The next few days passed quietly.
For Garry, it almost felt strange.
No sudden trouble. No unexpected events. Classes continued, training continued, meals came and went. Slowly, the lingering awkwardness from that Sunday faded, and Garry returned to his usual self—focused, curious, and restless when left idle for too long.
He trained as he always did.
Morning classes. Afternoon practice. Evenings spent refining mana flow until his body ached just enough to remind him he was improving.
Then, one afternoon, something different happened.
"Hey."
Garry turned around.
A boy stood a few steps away from him on the training grounds, wooden staff resting casually on his shoulder. He had short, dark hair and sharp eyes that didn't bother hiding their confidence.
"You're Garry Latherm, right?" the boy asked.
Garry nodded. "Yeah. That's me."
"I challenge you to a duel."
For a brief moment, Garry simply blinked.
A duel.
It was the first time anyone had directly challenged him.
Excitement stirred in his chest before he could stop it. "Sure," he replied almost immediately. "I accept."
A faint blue light blossomed between them.
Mana gathered, shaped, and solidified into a familiar form—the owl, hovering calmly between the two students.
"Challenge accepted," it announced.
"I will oversee this duel."
Students nearby noticed instantly. Conversations stopped. Practice slowed. A small crowd began to form.
"Killing is prohibited," the owl continued. "The duel ends upon surrender or incapacitation. Rewards will be issued based on performance."
It floated higher.
"State readiness."
The boy twirled his staff once and smirked. "Ready."
Garry drew his sword, the metal whispering softly as it left its sheath. "Ready."
"Begin."
The fire-user moved first.
He lifted his staff and twisted it sharply—mana surged, and a fireball burst forward, blazing bright orange as it hurtled toward Garry.
Fire element.
Garry didn't panic. He sidestepped quickly, the heat brushing past him close enough to sting his skin.
"Aren't you fast," the boy laughed.
He didn't wait.
This time, he formed several smaller fireballs, launching them in rapid succession.
Garry's mind raced.
Dodging everything isn't enough.
Stone responded as he spread mana outward. Walls of earth rose in uneven angles around him. Fire slammed into rock, exploding into sparks and smoke. The remaining fireballs slipped past—
—and Garry cut them down midair, blade flashing.
The fire-user frowned.
Again, more fireballs—faster, denser.
Garry repeated the pattern, blocking, cutting, advancing slowly. The heat was building now. Sweat dripped down his neck.
I can't reach him like this.
Then, as Garry finally closed the distance—
The boy dropped his staff slightly and pointed it straight at him.
A beam of fire erupted.
Garry's eyes widened.
There was no space to dodge.
Instinct took over.
He raised his sword.
The beam slammed into the blade, the impact sending a violent shock through his arms. Pain exploded through his hands as he was launched backward, skidding across the ground.
Laughter followed.
"That's all you've got?" the boy sneered. "Just running around?"
Garry groaned and pushed himself up.
A small grin crept onto his face.
The boy froze. "What are you smiling at?"
The ground shifted.
Rocks burst upward around the boy's legs, twisting and locking together like chains. Before he could react, the stone wrapped tightly, pinning him in place.
"Cheap tricks!" the boy shouted. "Coward!"
Garry exhaled slowly.
"There's no such thing as cheap tricks," he said calmly.
"If it works, it's just using what you have."
The truth was simple.
Garry hadn't only been dodging.
Each time he moved, he'd brushed small stones with his mana—nudging them backward, sending them in wide arcs behind his opponent. Quietly. Gradually. Unnoticed amid the fire.
Now—
They struck.
The fire-user roared and unleashed hundreds of small fireballs, flooding the space between them.
Garry moved.
Walls rose. Steps formed. Platforms collapsed behind him as he climbed, dodged, slid, and redirected himself forward. Fire scorched stone. Stone shattered. Dust filled the air.
Step by step, he closed the distance.
Finally, he stood directly in front of his opponent.
Garry raised his sword and pressed the blade gently against the boy's neck.
"Surrender."
The boy's face twisted, jaw clenched.
"I… surrender."
The stones released him.
"You'll pay for this," the boy spat. "Using tricks like that."
He turned and walked away.
Garry didn't respond.
The owl reappeared.
"Winner of this duel: Garry Latherm," it announced.
"Reward issued: 700 points."
The owl vanished.
Garry stared at his palm.
870 points.
A slow smile spread across his face.
His first duel.
His first victory.
Around him, whispers rose.
"Cheap tactics…"
"That was smart…"
"He used the terrain…"
Garry didn't care.
The crowd slowly dispersed after the duel.
Some students returned to their practice as if nothing had happened. Others lingered, whispering in small groups, occasionally glancing in Garry's direction. A few looked impressed. A few looked irritated. Most looked uncertain—unsure what to make of a win that hadn't come from raw power.
Garry didn't linger.
The adrenaline from the duel still buzzed through his body, but his arms ached, and the lingering heat from the fire magic left his skin sensitive. Instead of continuing to train, he wiped the dust from his clothes and headed toward the academy library.
The building was cool and quiet, thick stone walls muting the noise from outside. Rows of shelves stretched far into the interior, filled with everything from spell theory to old travel journals. Garry picked a random novel and sat near a window, letting his body relax.
He didn't read much.
Mostly, he let his thoughts settle.
I won.
Not because the other boy was weak.
Not because of luck.
Because he'd thought it through.
By the time evening came, the lingering tension had drained away, leaving behind a calm, satisfied exhaustion.
The dorm room was dim when Garry returned.
Acarme was already there, as usual, seated on his bed with his eyes closed. The faint, familiar pressure of circulating mana filled the room.
Garry dropped his bag near the door and walked over quietly.
Without warning, he slapped Acarme lightly on the back.
Acarme jolted. "—What the hell?"
He opened his eyes, then frowned. "Oh. It's you. What now?"
Garry grinned wider than he had all day. "Guess what happened."
Acarme sighed. "Let me guess. That red-haired girl dumped you again?"
"Hey—!" Garry protested. "That means— never mind."
He held up his palm instead.
"Look."
Acarme leaned forward.
The mark shimmered faintly as the numbers displayed themselves.
870 points.
"…Not bad," Acarme said after a moment.
Garry stared at him. "That's it?"
"I mean," Acarme shrugged, "for a first duel? Yeah. Not bad."
Garry clicked his tongue. "I won my first duel and got seven hundred points, and all you say is not bad?"
He dismissed the display and crossed his arms. "Fine. Then you show me yours."
A slow grin spread across Acarme's face.
He turned his palm upward.
The number appeared.
5,300 points.
Garry froze.
"…You're joking."
Acarme shook his head.
"How did you even get that many so fast?" Garry demanded. "We're not that far apart in age!"
"I mostly win my duels," Acarme replied casually. "Last year would've been more, but I got sick. Spent a lot of time stuck in bed instead of training."
Garry fell silent.
Acarme glanced at him, then added, "Don't look like that. You'll get there too—if you train every day."
Then he smirked. "Also, you owe me a treat. First duel win and all."
Garry laughed. "Fine, fine. But with that many points, shouldn't you be paying?"
Acarme shrugged. "Maybe. But tradition is tradition."
They practiced mana flow afterward, sitting cross-legged on opposite beds. Garry followed Acarme's instructions carefully, guiding mana through his body in steady, controlled patterns. It wasn't flashy. It wasn't exciting.
But it worked.
Later, they ate dinner, talked about nothing important, and eventually lay down to sleep.
As Garry stared at the ceiling, his palm rested against his chest.
870 points.
It wasn't much.
But it was real.
And for the first time since entering the academy, Garry felt certain of one thing.
He was moving forward.