The following week marked the dawn of the final test—The Duel.
A deep, resonant toll of bells and horns tore through the dorms, rolling like thunder across the academy grounds. It was the long-awaited day, the day that would separate pretenders from true nobles.
Eran was already awake, sitting on the edge of his cot, uniform crisp and perfectly aligned. His gaze was steady, calm, while outside, the corridors came alive with sound... footsteps, hurried voices, and laughter.
Doors slammed open as nobles spilled out of their chambers, their finely tailored uniforms and embroidered robes sweeping along the marble floors. Every movement, every shimmer of cloth was a reminder of lineage, of pride, of houses sworn to glory.
Their laughter echoed down the halls.. sharp, and confident, almost arrogant—carrying the same song of certainty: victory already written.
