🌞 Ashenwell Courtyard – Midday
The courtyard buzzed with activity—students practicing spells, hovering glyph scrolls twirling through the air, nobles trying not to look impressed by commoner duels.
Grim didn't care for any of it.
He was walking back from Lume Theory when he saw Seth—standing calmly in the center of the training circle, sleeves rolled, sparring staff in hand.
Too casual. Too rehearsed.
"Here we go," Sparks muttered. "Courtboy wants to make a scene."
Seth raised his voice, loud enough to carry across the stone walls:
"Grim of Ashen—care to show me what made Serkane yield?"
Heads turned instantly.
Gasps.
Kerren stopped mid-punch in a nearby drill.
Lys—standing on a balcony above—leaned forward slowly, ice already crackling in her tea.
Grim didn't break stride. He stepped into the circle.
"You sure you want this?"
Seth smiled. "I just want to understand. And sometimes, to understand power, you have to feel it."
Grim dropped his bag.
"No Lume. No Sparks," Seth added. "Let's keep it old school."
Grim didn't say a word.
He just raised his fists.
🥊 Sparring Match
It began fast.
Seth was good—refined technique, graceful steps, precision blows. Court-trained.
But Grim was better. He fought like a storm—controlled, brutal, built from survival and sharpened rage. Every punch landed harder than it should. Every dodge predicted movement before it began.
Seth faltered, just once.
Grim swept his legs.
The staff clattered.
Grim's boot hit Seth's chest—hard—and knocked him flat.
The crowd erupted.
Grim turned and walked away.
But not before whispering, low and sharp:
"Next time you try to probe me, bring a better disguise."
Seth coughed, lips bloody—and smiled.
📜 Meanwhile – Deep Within Oruin
In a vast chamber lined with obsidian glass, a projection flickered to life.
A silver-masked figure sat in a throne of light and shadow.
Another robed official bowed before her, voice flat:
"Subject 04-A has surfaced at Ashenwell. Emotional resonance recorded. Unknown AI signature detected, possibly reactivated."
"He overpowered a probe. Publicly."
The masked figure tilted her head.
"Then the culling protocols failed."
"Yes, Grand Inquisitor."
"Then retrieve him," she said.
"Alive."
"Or broken."
The screen went dark.