The gates of Crown's Academy loomed ahead, their towering bronze frames catching the pale light of the early afternoon sun. The twin lion engravings on the gate glared outward as though judging every soul who dared to pass beneath.
Edran stepped through without hesitation.
The stone path beyond stretched like a spine through the Academy's sprawling grounds, the warm breeze stirring the rows of emerald-leafed trees to a gentle whisper. But it wasn't the rustling leaves that reached his ears. It was the people.
Students, instructors, servants—everywhere, eyes turned toward him. Some parted instinctively, creating an unspoken corridor as he walked. Others didn't move but stared openly, their expressions heavy with curiosity, awe, or envy.
> "That's him. Edran Teyren."
"The one who crushed three Foundation seeds in the tournament…?"
"I heard he was only at Qi Condensation, early stage… before."
Edran kept his gaze forward, letting their words wash over him without acknowledgment. He'd heard enough of these whispers during the tournament itself. The awe was… irrelevant. The envy? Expected.
But still, he noticed.
The boy with sharp features who glanced away the moment their eyes met — fear.
The group of older students in white-silver uniforms leaning in to murmur to each other — measuring him.
And somewhere in the shifting sea of faces, a presence lingering just out of sight, watching for too long.
The faintest smile tugged at his mouth. Not all the whispers were harmless.
His boots thudded against the stone with measured rhythm. One step after another, until—
A shadow slid into his path.
Cain Fall.
The man's posture was perfect for the stage he had chosen — one boot casually forward, hands clasped behind his back, expression tilted somewhere between amusement and mockery. Around them, students slowed their steps, some outright stopping to form an eager half-circle.
> "Well, if it isn't the tournament's newest star," Cain drawled, voice carrying just enough to invite attention. "What an honor it must be… to bask in such undeserved glory."
Edran stopped. His gaze traveled from Cain's smug eyes down to the polished silver clasp on his Academy robe — a subtle symbol of his faction's influence — before meeting Cain's stare again.
"Undeserved," Edran repeated, his voice flat.
Cain's smile widened. "Oh, come now. You can't expect everyone to believe that the boy who spent years unnoticed has suddenly become a prodigy. People talk, you know."
The whispers in the crowd sharpened like the air before a storm.
Edran tilted his head. "You're blocking my path."
"Oh, am I?" Cain stepped closer. "Then why don't you move me?"
A low hum of anticipation rolled through the spectators. A duel on Academy grounds wasn't rare, but one between the freshly crowned tournament victor and a peak Qi Condensation cultivator—especially one like Cain—was a spectacle too delicious to miss.
Edran's eyes narrowed slightly. "You're sure?"
Cain smirked. "Absolutely."
The fight began without ceremony.
Cain's right palm blurred upward, Flame Serpent Palm, a skill known for its swift, burning strikes. A serpent of shimmering fire hissed into being, coiling toward Edran's chest.
Edran didn't step back. His body tilted sideways, the serpent sliding past by the width of a hair. His left hand rose, fingers curling into a claw—Azure Fang Grip—snapping toward Cain's exposed side.
Cain twisted away, but not fast enough. Pain flickered across his face as Edran's grip dug in, forcing him off balance.
They moved like two dancers locked in a deadly rhythm — Cain unleashing bursts of flame and sharp footwork, Edran responding with controlled, precise counters. Every strike from Edran carried weight, his movements cutting away Cain's momentum piece by piece.
Cain's smirk faltered. He leapt back, gathering spiritual energy at his palm, the air shimmering with heat. "Let's see you dodge this—Flame Burst Lotus!"
Three fiery blooms erupted from his hands, each spinning outward before converging toward Edran in a deadly spiral.
Edran exhaled. The azure hue of his Qi flared briefly, a ripple of dragon-like intent whispering through the air—gone as quickly as it came. His stance shifted.
> Azure Flow Step.
He moved once. Just once. And Cain's attacks sailed harmlessly past him, crashing into the training wall behind and scattering embers across the ground.
By the time Cain registered the miss, Edran was already in front of him.
A single open-palm strike to the chest—controlled, precise—sent Cain skidding backward across the courtyard stones. He stopped just short of the crowd's feet, coughing, the front of his robes scorched from his own rebounded flame.
Silence. Then whispers, sharper and louder than before.
> "He didn't even break a sweat…"
"Cain's famous Flame Serpent got dismantled in seconds."
"What is he?"
Cain's faction members glared at Edran, hands twitching, but none stepped forward.
Edran didn't even look back. He simply turned and walked away.
---
The Dean's study smelled faintly of old parchment and sandalwood incense.
Dean Harrow sat behind his broad, darkwood desk, fingers steepled, watching Edran with eyes that missed nothing.
"You've made quite an impression," Harrow said, voice calm but laced with meaning. "But you've also drawn attention — not all of it welcome."
"I noticed," Edran replied evenly.
Harrow leaned back, gaze narrowing slightly. "There are movements… subtle for now. Threads being pulled by hands we can't yet see. Be wary of those eager to 'befriend' you in the coming weeks."
Edran said nothing, but the faint tension in his shoulders deepened.
The Dean reached into a locked drawer, producing a slender, frost-rimmed vial. The liquid within shimmered in hues of deep blue and silver, like liquid moonlight.
"This," Harrow said, sliding it across the desk, "is Azure Dragon Dew. A rare alchemical elixir. Take it when you're ready — it will greatly refine your Qi and strengthen your meridians. But be warned: it will also… awaken things, if they lie dormant within you."
Edran's fingers closed around the vial. The faintest tremor of something ancient stirred in his blood. He didn't show it.
"I understand."
"Good." Harrow's eyes held his a moment longer. "The Academy will need every sharp blade it can keep."
---
That night, in the quiet edges of the Academy grounds, Cain sat alone, the humiliation of the afternoon replaying endlessly in his mind.
"You look… unsatisfied," a voice murmured from the shadows.
He turned sharply. A woman stepped forward — her face half-hidden by a dark veil, her presence pressing against his senses like a heavy mist.
"Who are you?" Cain demanded.
"Someone who can give you what you want," she replied, her tone smooth, coaxing. "Power. Enough to burn through Edran Teyren and anyone else who stands in your way."
Cain hesitated, pride warring with caution. "…And what would you want in return?"
Her smile was faint but chilling. "Only your loyalty. To a cause greater than this Academy."
In the darkness behind her veil, her eyes glinted like steel.
Cain's jaw tightened. "I accept."
And just like that, another thread was tied into the shadow's web.