The tournament arena buzzed with noises and chants. Every student in the Academy had gathered for the mid-semester rankings. Wooden scaffolds surrounded the central fighting circle where students sat to watch the fate of their rankings.
Ethan sat in the Silver section, watching the early matches. His stomach twisted with each bout. Today would test everything he'd learned about hiding in plain sight.
"First match," Master Donovan announced. "Combined arms and magic. Victory by submission, disarmament, or magical incapacitation."
The rules were simple. Each fighter got a practice sword and could use whatever magic they possessed. Most duels lasted under five minutes.
Ethan's name was drawn for the seventh match. Against Giles Galline.
A Silver-ranked merchant's son. At least it's not nobility.
"Nervous?" Kaleb asked. His own match was later, against another Bronze-ranked student.
"Terrified," Ethan said honestly.
Maya caught his eye from across the arena. She nodded once. They'd talked strategy last night. Win, but not too well. Advance, but don't dominate.
The first six matches went as expected. Nobles beat commoners. Higher ranks crushed lower ones. The natural order maintained itself.
Then Maya stepped into the circle.
Her opponent was Mark Morvan, ranked thirty-eighth. Minor nobility with decent sword work and basic fire magic. He should have won easily.
"Begin!" Donovan called.
Morvan opened with a flame spell, sending a bolt of fire toward Maya's chest. She sidestepped and shadows erupted around her feet. Not the wild darkness from her entrance exam - controlled tendrils that moved with purpose.
The crowd went quiet.
Maya's blade work was flawless. Each strike precise, economical. When Morvan tried another fire spell, shadows snuffed the flames like water on a candle.
"Impossible," someone whispered.
Shadow magic didn't counter fire. It absorbed light, created darkness, fed on fear. It didn't extinguish other elements.
Unless you knew how to use it properly.
Maya drove Morvan back with a series of cuts that would have been lethal with a real blade. When he stumbled, shadow tendrils wrapped around his ankles.
"Yield," she said quietly.
Morvan dropped his sword.
The arena erupted. A Silver-ranked commoner had just destroyed a Silver rank noble. Maya walked back to her section with composure while whispers were flowing among the students.
Ethan felt pride and terror in equal measure. She was magnificent and now everyone would be watching her.
Three more matches passed in a blur. Then his name echoed across the arena.
"Ethan Cole versus Giles Galline."
Ethan walked to the circle on unsteady legs. Giles was already there, practice sword in hand. Earth magic flickered around his fingers - not much, but enough to give him an edge.
"Good luck," Giles said. He seemed genuine about it.
"You too."
They circled each other. Ethan fell into a basic guard position, deliberately loose and uncertain. Giles attacked first, testing with a simple thrust.
Ethan parried clumsily, stumbling back. The crowd murmured. This looked like it would be over quickly.
Giles pressed his advantage with earth magic. Small stones formed in the air, then shot forward like arrows. Ethan dodged most of them, took one in the shoulder that sent him spinning.
Come on. Make it look good.
Giles closed distance, sword work clean and efficient. Ethan gave ground, blocking desperately. To the crowd, it looked like fear. In reality, he was reading Giles like an open book.
The merchant's son favored his right side. Left shoulder dropped before each thrust. Footwork was textbook perfect - which made it predictable.
When Giles committed to a finishing strike, Ethan moved.
What looked like a panicked dodge was actually a perfect counter. His blade slipped past Giles's guard and tapped him lightly on the chest.
The arena went silent.
"Lucky," Ethan said, loud enough for the judges to hear. "I just... moved without thinking."
Giles stared at him for a long moment. Then he smiled. "Very lucky. Well fought."
They shook hands to polite applause. Ethan had won, but barely. The perfect result.
As he walked back to his seat, he caught Master Donovan's eye. The old instructor was watching him with that same calculating expression from their first class.
He knows. Not what I am, but he knows I'm more than I pretend.
The matches continued. Prince Alexander stepped into the circle for his bout against Raymond Blackthorn. Two future heirs, both with noble bloodlines and years of training.
It should have been spectacular.
Instead, it was terrifying.
Alexander moved like liquid shadow. His sword work was flawless, but wrong. Too fast. Too precise. When Raymond tried to match him, the prince's blade was already there.
Then the shadows came.
Not Maya's controlled tendrils. This was something else entirely. Darkness that moved with malevolent intelligence. It wrapped around Raymond's sword arm, his legs, his throat.
Raymond couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. The shadows were strangling him.
"Yield!" he gasped.
Alexander stepped back. The shadows vanished. He looked confused, like he'd just woken up from a dream.
"I... I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what happened."
The crowd was dead silent. Shadow magic from a Valorian prince? Impossible. The royal bloodline carried light magic, had for centuries.
Master Donovan stepped into the circle. "Medical attention for Lord Blackthorn. Prince Alexander, please remain available for questioning."
Alexander nodded numbly. As he walked past Ethan, their eyes met for just a moment. Behind the prince's violet gaze, something else looked out. Something hungry.
The tournament continued, but the mood had shifted. Students whispered about shadow magic and impossible victories. By the time the final match ended, everyone was on edge.
Results were posted an hour later.
Ethan had jumped from thirtieth to twentieth. Maya from fifty-fifth to forty-second. Both massive improvements that would be hard to explain.
"Congratulations," Lydia said, appearing beside him as he studied the rankings.
Ethan nearly jumped out of his skin. "Where did you come from?"
"I've been watching you fight. Interesting technique." Her amber eyes studied his face. "Very advanced for someone self-taught."
"I got lucky."
"Did you?" She smiled. "To understand. You and Maya both fight like you've done this before. Like you know exactly what you're capable of." She paused. "Like you're holding back."
Around them, students celebrated or commiserated their new rankings. Normal Academy life continuing while Ethan felt the walls closing in.
"I should go," he said.
"Of course. But Ethan?" Lydia's smile was sharp as winter. "Whatever game you're playing, remember that other people are playing too. And some of us have been at it much longer than you think."
She walked away, leaving Ethan alone with his new ranking and the growing certainty that he was running out of time.
Later that night, he lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Kaleb was asleep, exhausted from his own victory against another Bronze student. His roommate had earned his jump to seventy-third place honestly.
Unlike Ethan.
Every choice felt like walking a tightrope. Win too much, draw attention. Lose too much, fail to protect anyone. And somewhere in the balance was Maya, trusting him to know what he was doing.
The tournament had changed everything. New rankings meant new opportunities. New dangers.
And somewhere in the Academy, Prince Alexander was fighting a battle against the darkness inside his own mind.
A battle Ethan wasn't sure anyone could win.