Twenty three days until the duel the morning sun barely crested the academy walls when Ryker arrived at the outdoor training grounds. The grounds were packed with students filling the observation stands, all facing a single dueling platform at the center.
Zayne Corvus stood at the platform's center, surrounded by elite companions. Behind him, a large banner hung from magical supports: "DEMONSTRATION: THE PRICE OF ARROGANCE."
This was a trap.
"Ah, here he is!" Zayne's voice boomed across the grounds, magically amplified. "The dead man who thinks he can challenge his betters! Come up here, Ryker Vale. We've arranged a special training session. Since you claim to have lost your abilities, I thought it only fair to show everyone exactly how far the mighty Sword Master has fallen."
Every head turned toward Ryker.
He assessed the situation calmly, public venue, maximum witnesses the perfect opportunity to humiliate him before the actual duel. The smart move would have been to walk away.
But walking away meant confirming their belief that he was powerless so Ryker climbed onto the platform.
"Excellent!" Zayne grinned. "I've been authorized by the academy to conduct live combat demonstrations. Today's lesson: what happens when someone without mana faces someone with proper training."
Zayne's mana flared, visible to every witness. Tier 2 peak aura rippled across his body.
"Don't worry, I'll be gentle."
Zayne moved fast, mana enhanced speed blurring his form.
Ryker sidestepped, minimal movement, perfect timing.
The strike missed by inches.
"Lucky," Zayne snarled, attacking again.
Ryker dodged three more strikes, each missing by an inch. The fourth punch finally connected, staggering him.
The crowd gasped.
"There it is!" Zayne announced triumphantly. "The great Sword Master, reduced to dodging like a frightened rabbit!" He turned to the audience. "This is what happens when you rely on reputation instead of real strength!"
Laughter scattered through the crowd. Ryker straightened, wiping blood from his split lip. His expression remained calm.
"Are you finished?"
"Finished? I'm just getting started. By the time I'm done, you'll be begging me to cancel our duel."
"Then let me save us both some time."
Ryker picked up a practice sword from the weapon rack. "I'm going to show everyone exactly what the Sword Master's techniques were worth."
The crowd went silent.
Ryker's stance shifted. Fluid, precise, perfect form that made even the professors sit straighter.
"Impossible," someone whispered. "That's the Crimson Moon stance."
Zayne's confidence flickered. "Doesn't matter what stance you use without mana—"
Ryker moved.
Not enhanced by magic. Just pure technique buried in muscle memory.
The wooden sword blurred.
Three strikes. So fast most witnesses couldn't track them.
The first disarmed Zayne.
The second struck his chest, disrupting his mana flow.
The third stopped a hair's breadth from his throat all in 2 seconds
Every where was silent as Zayne stood frozen, mana flickering and dying around him as his breath refused to return.
"The previous Ryker Vale trained for ten years to perfect seventeen sword forms," Ryker said quietly. "He earned the title Sword Master not because of power, but because of technique so refined it didn't need power. I may have lost my mana. I may have lost my memories but my body remembers"
He lowered the sword.
"So yes, I accepted your challenge. Because even without mana, the Sword Master's techniques are more than enough to defeat someone who relies solely on enhancement."
The crowd exploded with awe.
Zayne collapsed to his knees, gasping. "Impossible... you can't..."
"Can't win? I just did."
Professor Thaddeus stood. "Ryker Vale, that was the Crimson Moon technique followed by the Seven Stars finishing strike. Only three people in academy history have mastered that combination."
"The previous Ryker was one of them."
"And you claim you don't remember learning it?"
"I don't remember consciously but my body does."
Zayne struggled to his feet, face red with humiliation. "This proves nothing! In the actual duel, with preparation"
"You'll lose even faster."
"Lord Corvus."
The voice cut through the grounds like a blade.
Marcus Corvus stood at the entrance, flanked by two imperial observers. His expression was cold fury barely contained.
"Father, I was just"
"Embarrassing our family in front of three hundred witnesses," Marcus finished. "Damien, escort your brother to my office. Now."
Marcus walked onto the platform, each step measured. He stopped before Ryker.
"Impressive display, Mr. Vale. You've reminded everyone why you were once feared."
"Your son challenged me publicly and I responded."
"Indeed." Marcus's smile was cold. "Which brings me to an announcement. The duel will proceed as scheduled. However, I've requested that the imperial observers remain to witness the match officially."
Imperial observers meant this was no longer just an academy duel. It was a legal proceeding.
"Additionally, I've petitioned the academy council to classify this duel as a Trial of Merit. The victor will be formally recognized by the empire, while the loser will face consequences appropriate to their failure."
Ryker understood immediately. If he lost, the consequences could range from expulsion to far worse.
"I accept the terms."
Marcus's eyes narrowed. "You don't wish to know what the consequences might be?"
"No. Because I'm not going to lose."
"Very well. The terms are set." Marcus turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Mr. Vale? That technique you demonstrated. My researchers tell me that combination was created by Sword Saint Aldric himself. Interesting that a student with amnesia can perform a technique that requires explicit instruction from a master."
He walked away before Ryker could respond.
The crowd began dispersing. Ryker stood alone on the platform, mind racing.
Marcus had just implied he suspected Ryker wasn't who he claimed to be.
As students congratulated him, Ryker noticed Aurora Lysander watching with clinical interest. Beside her, two figures in dark robes.
Conclave observers.
They'd seen everything.
[System Notification: Major exposure event detected]
[Multiple high level observers now tracking host]
[Recommendation: Accelerate training. Conflict escalation imminent]
Ryker left the grounds as quickly as possible. That evening, after training with Miss Calia, Ryker returned to his dormitory exhausted. He'd barely closed his door when he felt it.
That presence. The one he'd sensed before but never seen clearly.
A figure materialized from the shadows in the corner of his room. Cloaked, and hooded. The same one who'd disposed of Javi.
"Who are you?" Ryker demanded, hand instinctively moving toward his practice sword.
"Someone who has been waiting for this conversation." The figure's voice was hollow, empty of warmth. "You've been performing admirably, vessel much better than anticipated."
"Vessel?" Ryker's jaw tightened. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't play ignorant. You know you don't belong in that body. You know you were pulled from another world." The figure stepped closer. "We summoned you. We placed you in the corpse of Ryker Vale. We gave you the Devourer System."
Ryker's blood went cold.
"Why?"
"That's not your concern. Your concern is simple: grow stronger. Master the Devourer. Survive the duel and whatever comes after." The figure's tone darkened. "Because if you prove inadequate, if you fail to meet expectations, we will dispose of you and find a more suitable vessel."
"You're threatening me?"
"I'm informing you of reality." The figure turned toward the window. "You have twenty three days until the duel. Use them wisely. The master is watching and he does not tolerate failure."
"Who is this master?"
"Someone who knows you better than you know yourself." The figure dissolved back into shadow. "Grow strong, Ryker Vale. Or become nothing."
Then it was gone.
Ryker stood alone, heart pounding. They'd summoned him. Given him the Devourer deliberately and now they were watching, judging, waiting to see if he was worth keeping.
He had to know more.
Far beyond the academy, in that space between realities, the cloaked figure reappeared before the impossible window.
"The vessel has been informed," the figure reported. "He knows he was summoned deliberately. He knows he's being evaluated."
"Good." The presence in the deeper shadows stirred. "Let him feel the pressure. Let him understand that survival isn't guaranteed."
The presence moved closer to the window, and for the first time, part of a face became visible in the dim light.
Sharp features, white hair. Eyes that seen too much..
A face that looked exactly like Ryker Vale.
But older and colder.
The figure bowed and returned to its vigil, watching as far below, Ryker sat on his bed, mind racing with the revelation that he'd been summoned deliberately.
Twenty three days until the duel.
But the real countdown was how long Ryker had before he understood what he was truly becoming.
A weapon forged in his own image.
By a monster who wore his face.