"Shut up," I replied silently, though a faint smile lingered reluctantly on my lips.
The moment passed like a breath fragile, brief, barely real. By the time the afternoon sun poured through the Arcanum's long stained-glass windows, throwing fractured color across the courtyard stones, that strange moment of almost-friendship had faded beneath the usual rhythm of structured chaos.
It was Duel Day.
Or as Riven called it The Annual Parade of Fragile Egos.
The practice field outside the eastern wing had been cleared for the occasion, runes carved into the flagstones glowing faintly to ensure no one left permanently broken. Students gathered along the perimeter, their voices hushed with anticipation as pairs were called forward one by one. Magical duels at Arcanum weren't optional. They were tradition. A training exercise disguised as entertainment. A way to weed out the weak, test the reckless, and humiliate the overconfident.
Guess where I fit in.
