A week had passed since the end of the tournament, but the echoes of that final day still lingered in every corner of the Academy.
Conversations paused when Eryon walked into a room. Students glanced over their shoulders when Alice passed in the halls. The duel that had never happened became the most talked-about moment in years—what had been said, why Eryon surrendered, why Alice had reacted the way she did. Theories ran rampant.
Officially, the Academy celebrated the three champions equally. Ceremonies were held, accolades distributed, and resources divided. But no one was fooled. The student body had formed its own opinions.
Some considered Eryon honorable, others foolish.
Some saw Alice as proud and noble, others called her cold.
And Vaen, though silent, remained distant and unreadable, the weight of his first defeat sharpening his already deadly aura.
Eryon sat in the training fields early each morning, sparring alone or with Kael and Ryn. His movements were sharper, more focused. The week of rest had healed his wounds, but not the question that haunted him.
Why did I give up?
Kael threw a padded punch toward his ribs.
Eryon blocked, countered, and exhaled. "Still thinking about her," Kael muttered.
Eryon didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Meanwhile, Alice trained with silent intensity. Her strikes were faster than ever, her aura colder. But her concentration broke more often now—her sword lingering just a moment too long, her gaze wandering toward the path where Eryon often walked.
One night, while standing alone on the balcony of her dormitory tower, Alice stared up at the moonlit sky.
Why did he do that?
And why did it bother me so much?
She scowled and turned away, her heart pounding in ways she didn't understand.
Elsewhere, Professor Kaelen and a council of instructors gathered in a quiet hall, scrolls and reports scattered across the table.
"The next phase should begin," one said. "They've earned their placements."
"We need to test how far these flames can go," another agreed.
Ardan Dawnmere folded his arms. "Then send them out. Let the Empire itself test them."
And so, without warning, letters began to arrive in the hands of the top students.
Each one stamped with the golden seal of the Academy.
A single message:
"Your field mission assignment will begin in three days. Report to the southern gate before dawn."
Alice received hers with a frown.
Eryon read his in silence.
Neither knew yet—
That they would be sent on the same mission.