The Golden Tree Academy's dining hall buzzed with the usual morning commotion, a blend of lively conversations, the clatter of cutlery against plates, and occasional bursts of laughter. The long tables were occupied by students from all walks of life, each wearing the Academy's blue and gold uniform, embroidered with the emblem of the Lumen.
Gaël and Kaëlan, still groggy from their abrupt awakening, were trying to eat in peace, but the atmosphere felt heavy. From the moment they had arrived, they had felt the stares, heard the murmurs, sensed the judgment that was anything but subtle.
They didn't belong here.
Or at least, that's what some seemed to think. Not among the warriors, who shared a certain camaraderie through their rigorous training, but among the Blessed of the Lumen.
"Look at these Kernéval bumpkins."
The voice was loud, deliberately meant for everyone to hear.
Kaëlan, mid-bite into a piece of bread, froze. Gaël, on the other hand, clenched his fists ever so slightly.
A group of first-year students sat at a nearby table, a small circle of well-dressed youths with refined manners. At the center, lounging casually on the bench, was a blond-haired boy, his hair neatly combed, a smug smile on his lips.
His uniform was immaculate, pristine, with a silver brooch pinned to his collar, a mark of the Academy's most promising students in Lumen mastery.
"Word has it the Academy took these poor lads in out of pity," he continued, amusement curling at the corners of his mouth. "After all, they had to save face after the attack on their little town, right? What luck, huh? No need for talent, just let the Umbra destroy your home, and voilà, free entry into the elite."
Laughter rippled through his group.
Kaëlan slowly set his bread down.
Gaël remained silent, his jaw tight, shoulders tense.
The blond boy, noticing their reaction, leaned in slightly, savoring the moment.
"I wish my town had been attacked too. My parents wouldn't have had to pay for the Academy. Such injustice, don't you think?"
This time, Kaëlan shot up from his seat.
"Say that again."
The arrogant young man straightened slightly, feigning surprise.
"Oh? Touchy, are we, little farmer?"
His mocking tone, his amused gaze… everything about him was begging for a fight.
Gaël, still seated, placed a hand on Kaëlan's forearm, a silent warning.
But he too was trembling with anger.
"You should watch what you say," Gaël said, his voice measured.
The blond boy raised his hands in a mock gesture of innocence.
"Watch what, exactly?" His grin widened. "You're not seriously thinking of hitting me, are you? Me, Lucian Valchor? And right here, in the Academy's sacred halls? You wouldn't want to get expelled after all the strings your little benefactors pulled to get you in, would you?"
The laughter of their peers swelled, echoing off the stone walls of the dining hall like a mocking tide, rising and crashing, relentless. Humiliation hung thick in the air, fed by the amused voices that mingled with the clatter of dishes and the hushed conversations brought to an abrupt halt.
Kaëlan was fuming.
Gaël, however, didn't react immediately. He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs and temper the quiet fury threatening to surge within him. Then, with deliberate slowness, he rose, his gaze locking onto the arrogant blond whose smug smile was practically begging to be wiped away.
Without a word, without the slightest smirk of provocation, he reached for his bowl of water. And in a single fluid motion, simple yet utterly resolute, he tipped it over, dousing his adversary's head.
In some cities, duels were declared with the snap of a glove against the cheek. Here, Gaël had no glove. He used what was at hand.
A frozen silence crashed down upon the room, smothering whispers, suspending every movement in its wake.
The boy with meticulously styled hair remained motionless at first, shock flashing in his wide eyes as water trickled slowly down his face.
Then, as reality hit him full force, his jaw tightened, his nostrils flared with a sharp intake of breath, and his eyes burned with a fierce light, the golden shimmer of awakening Lumen.
"You'll regret that." His words came out in a low hiss, laced with the promise of retribution.
Gaël didn't flinch.
He merely held his gaze with an unsettling calm, as if the looming duel had nothing to do with him.
Kaëlan, on the other hand, grinned.
"Oh, buddy…" he murmured, amusement lacing his tone. "You really picked the wrong day to act tough."
Tension exploded. The dining hall buzzed with hushed whispers from those who had witnessed the exchange.
A duel felt inevitable.
The Lumen wielder, soaked from head to toe, clenched his fists, fury burning in his eyes. His wounded arrogance demanded an answer, swift, immediate vengeance for the public humiliation he had just endured.
Gaël, still standing, stared him down without blinking. He had no regrets.
Kaëlan stood by his side, ready to jump in the moment the first move was made.
But just as Lucian prepared to unleash his power, as energy crackled along his forearms, a presence, ice-cold and razor-sharp, sliced through the tension like an invisible blade.
"Enough."
The command wasn't shouted, yet it struck like divine decree. It cut through the air like the keen edge of a blade gliding over taut fabric, cold, unyielding, absolute. The silent wave it sent rippling outward crept into every corner of the hall, smothering every held breath. A shiver ran through the gathered students, an instinctive reaction to an authority that permitted neither defiance nor reply.
All heads turned, drawn as if by an unseen force.
She stood there, motionless at the edge of the circle that had formed around Gaël and his opponent. Her silhouette was neither massive nor overtly intimidating, yet it carried an overwhelming weight, an aura of absolute calm that commanded silence and respect. The very space around her seemed to shift, as if the light of the Lumen itself bent slightly under her presence.
Even the Lumen wielder, who had been ready to unleash his fury just moments earlier, hesitated. He knew exactly who he was dealing with.
Sélène de Valmire.
Her posture was relaxed, her expression unreadable, but in her eyes, pure white, flecked with gold that shimmered like distant fire, burned an icy determination. She slowly swept her gaze over Gaël, then the blond, and finally the entire gathering, brushing over each face with silent judgment.
"Do you truly believe the Academy is a place where disputes are settled like drunken brawls in a tavern?"
Her tone wasn't scolding, nor was it laced with anger. It was calm, so neutral, so sharp in its detachment that it was more threatening than any shout could ever be.
No one answered.
A suffocating tension hung in the air, each student caught between the shame of being caught and the inability to look away.
Then, like a storm creeping closer, a laugh shattered the silence.
"Oh, but I find the idea of a duel rather intriguing."
The assembly tensed.
All eyes turned toward the one who had spoken, and the reaction was immediate, sharp intakes of breath, bodies freezing in place, gazes darting away as if avoiding his attention might somehow shield them from something far greater than themselves.
Hector Dicon.
He stepped forward at a measured pace, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor. His movements, fluid, assured, belonged to someone who feared neither battle nor judgment. His face, youthful yet carrying an air of confidence no first-year student could ever hope to replicate, bore that signature half-smile of his, one that was impossible to decipher.
A smile of a man certain of his own strength.
He stopped just a few paces away, arms crossing over his chest, his unreadable gaze sweeping over the gathered students, assessing the situation with a detached amusement.
"So this is the famed noble spirit of the Ardentis? Big mouths drowning in cafeteria squabbles?"
A fleeting smile crossed his face. Hector thrived in this kind of atmosphere.
He let the silence stretch for a moment before shrugging, feigning an easygoing air.
"But then again, maybe I misread the situation. Maybe this is just a little misunderstanding between some tired students…"
"He attacked me!" the blond suddenly shouted, regaining some of his composure. "That deserves punishment!"
"How convenient to twist the truth!" Gaël shot back indignantly.
"Well then… perfect… If you're both so sure of yourselves, why not make it a real demonstration?"
A heavy silence fell once more.
Sélène, still impassive, fixed him with a steely gaze.
"You're not seriously going to let them fight over something this ridiculous, are you?"
Hector turned his head toward her, amusement gleaming in his eyes, before raising his hands in a mock gesture of innocence.
"Ridiculous? Perhaps. But a fight, even one driven by pride, is still a fight. And what is the Academy, if not the place where we learn how to battle? If these ego clashes exist, it means there's something deeper underneath. Tension. A need to prove one's worth. And what better way to silence doubts and settle things once and for all than through combat?"
He arched an eyebrow, a smirk flickering at the corner of his lips.
"But obviously, not here. Not like this. That would be a waste."
Gaël felt a bad premonition creep over him. A strange sensation, as if he had just stepped onto a steep slope without knowing where it would lead.
Beside him, Kaëlan tensed as well, sensing the dangerous anticipation lacing Hector's voice.
"What do you mean?" Sélène asked, her voice edged with suspicion.
Hector's smile widened, turning almost predatory.
"The Lumen Arena."
The words fell like a thunderclap.
A collective shiver ran through the crowd. Every professor, every student in the Academy would be able to witness the match. This could spiral into something far bigger than anyone had expected.
'What is he trying to do?' Gaël wondered. 'Is he with us or against us?'
Even the arrogant blond, who had been burning with anger just moments ago, faltered for an instant.
Hector noticed.
"Oh? So you're not that confident you're better than them after all?" he teased, his grin sharp. "I mean, I trained them personally!"
The blond's head snapped up, his pride stung.
"Of course I am!"
Hector raised his hands in a falsely placating gesture.
"Then prove it."
He let the challenge hang in the air for a moment before adding, almost nonchalantly:
"This will be excellent training for our new recruits. No more cafeteria squabbles, no more empty words… Fight where it matters. Where there'll be no doubt about who is truly the strongest."
His gaze slid toward Sélène, who had remained silent.
She was thinking. Weighing her options.
He didn't press her. Then, as the murmurs around them grew louder, the excitement of the students took over.
Hector burst into laughter.
"That's the spirit I like to hear!" He clapped his hands, as if sealing the inevitable conclusion. Then, with a smooth pivot and a theatrical flourish, he gestured for the group to follow.
"Come on, let's go. The Arena awaits."
The crowd slowly began to disperse, whispering about the upcoming duel.
Gaël and Kaëlan exchanged glances, one concerned, the other slightly resigned.
What had begun as a simple clash of pride was now turning into a true battle of honor.
Under Hector's lead, the group left the dining hall, making their way toward one of the most feared sections of the Academy. The anticipation was tangible, whispers multiplying among the students trailing behind.