The academy courtyard simmered with tension.
Students gathered quickly, their curiosity feeding on the promise of spectacle. The center of attention was familiar Tori Reglard and Issac Reevire, standing face to face beneath the gray morning light.
Issac's posture was that of one accustomed to command. His expression was polished calm, but his words carried the weight of scorn.
"Apologize for your mistake, commoner," he said lightly. "And I'll consider it settled a simple misstep."
The crowd murmured.
Tori didn't answer right away. His golden eyes reflected the stillness before a storm. This wasn't new. He and Issac had been orbiting each other for years rival stars destined to collide.
His mind flickered back, unbidden, to a memory three months old.
"Another win for Issac Reevire!" The referee's voice had echoed through the training field.
Tori had lain face-down in the dirt, lungs heaving. Issac stood above him, blade resting casually against his shoulder.
"That makes it two hundred and thirty-four to zero," Issac had said. "Just give up. You've been chasing a ghost for two years."
Tori had spat dirt from his mouth, his pride burning more fiercely than his body's pain.
"I won't," he'd said, steady and quiet. Then, with a small, insolent smile: "In fact, why don't you lick the dirt off your own boots?"
He'd brushed his foot against Issac's shoe and walked away.
For a heartbeat, it had almost felt like victory.
Then the air had turned heavy.
Issac's mana flared, thick and oppressive. The pressure struck Tori like an invisible wave.
"You've tested my patience," Issac growled. "I, Issac Reevire, challenge you 'dirt' to another duel. And once again, you will lose."
Tori had met his gaze, unyielding. "If I'm dirt, then you're garbage. Fine. Let's duel. I'll defeat you this time."
Golden mana had sparked around him, faint but alive.
The gathered students had gone silent.
Issac's tone had been cold as forged steel. "Tomorrow. After school. Three forty."
Then he had turned and left.
The announcement spread like a contagion. Posters appeared, rumors bloomed, and half the academy began choosing sides.
When Sunless heard, he'd buried his face in his hands. "You're an idiot," he said flatly. "Picking fights right before we leave? Then again…" He sighed. "Maybe this will prove something. Just don't embarrass yourself."
Tori smiled faintly. "I won't. This time, I intend to win. Maybe I'll even awaken my Authority."
He trained harder than ever that day. His thoughts circled endlessly around Issac's Authority Atmospheric Pressure.
Not mere weight, but command over the very air shaping its density, direction, and force. The range varied, but Tori had been under its crushing grip more times than he cared to count.
Issac's strength wasn't just his Authority. His swordsmanship was sharp and precise, honed through privilege and talent both. His rare Attribute Balanced Stats allowed every aspect of his body to grow evenly.
Tori shared that same Attribute. His numbers were even higher: 120 to Issac's 108.
But numbers weren't everything.
He needed more.
Training consumed the week. Sunless assisted where he could, though his technique lacked the instinct of their father's. Eric Reglard tall, calm, and sharp-eyed was a man forged by countless battles.
"Take your stance," Eric said one evening, tying back his black hair. The faint glow of blue in his eyes hinted at the Authority beneath his control.
Tori raised his wooden sword. "Why's it called the Reglard Flame Sword Style if none of us can use fire?"
Eric blinked, then smiled ruefully. "Because it sounded cool back in the day."
Tori barked a laugh and lunged. His blade caught Eric across the cheek before his father even reacted.
"You shouldn't drop your guard, old man."
Eric's brows lifted. "Playing dirty, are we?"
He vanished. The next moment, Tori was flat on his back, the world spinning.
Tori grinned despite the pain. "Okay… point taken."
Then, suddenly, a weight like an invisible hand pressed him into the ground. The air thickened.
"What?"
He looked to the side.
Sunless sat cross-legged nearby, eyes glowing faint blue. His Authority pulsed faintly, invisible currents distorting the air around him.
"If you're going to fight Issac, get used to his presence," Sunless said, voice calm. "Consider this… exposure therapy."
The pressure lifted.
Tori pushed himself upright, breathing hard. "Right. Thanks."
He lunged again at Eric, and this time, the two moved like mirrored flames. Their blades struck, deflected, and rejoined in a rhythm that bordered on ritual.
From the side, Sunless hurled bursts of condensed pressure, simulating Issac's attacks. Tori dodged, rolled, struck back learning, adjusting, adapting.
The training lasted two hours. Two long, punishing hours.
When it ended, Tori lay sprawled across the dirt, drenched in sweat.
"How did I do?" he asked, voice faint.
Eric wiped his brow, smiling. "Better than yesterday."
Sunless, pale and drained, gave a lazy thumbs-up. "Good enough."
They showered, ate, and collapsed into sleep.
It was Thursday. The duel awaited tomorrow.
The next afternoon, the air in the academy seemed heavier.
Issac approached him quietly in the hallway. "Tori. We should talk."
Tori raised an eyebrow but followed. They stepped into the narrow alley behind the school a place away from the noise, from the eyes.
"Let's call this off," Issac said suddenly. His tone wasn't mocking this time. It was… tired.
Tori frowned. "Why? You've never backed out before."
"We're graduating," Issac replied. His voice was steady, but softer than usual. "We're leaving this place behind. Why keep fighting? It's pointless now."
For a moment, Tori saw not the rival, but the boy behind the title someone just as uncertain about what came next.
"Sorry," Tori said quietly. "It's not about reason anymore. It's pride. After losing to you two hundred and thirty-four times, I think I've earned at least one win. You're my rival."
Issac studied him for a long time. Then he sighed. "Suit yourself."
He turned to leave then stopped.
"I'm not going easy on you," he said without looking back. "You want to be an adventurer? Then don't show up tomorrow unless you're ready to see how small your dreams really are."
He walked away, his silhouette framed by the fading light.
Tori stood there, silent. The word rival lingered between them heavy, uncertain, and almost human.