Chapter 19
The winds shifted over Aflety Magic Academy, carrying with them the scent of incense, steel, and foreign spices.
It was not an ordinary day.
Flags representing kingdoms far beyond the empire fluttered at the edges of the academy's expansive marble courtyard. The once serene academy, nestled in the heart of the Sorvalen Mountains, had become a confluence of cultures and magic. Exotic creatures perched on carriages. Armored beasts the size of wagons trudged across the stone bridges. Scholars in flowing robes discussed mana theory beside swordsmen cloaked in draconic armor.
Evan stood by the eastern tower, his hands loosely clasped behind him, his beast—now named Nox—coiled loosely around his shoulder like a sentient scarf, its glinting obsidian scales soaking in the early morning light.
His mind was quiet, but his heart was not.
The air had changed.
And it wasn't just the atmosphere—it was the way people moved. How the professors stood a little straighter. How his classmates whispered more quietly.
"They're here," came Silva Elowen's voice, calm but edged with tension.
She walked to his side, arms crossed, wind lightly brushing her silver hair. Her emerald eyes were fixed on the grand gates of the academy.
"Three academies arrived just this morning," she continued. "Xythra from the Eastern Colonies. Caelesthall from the floating archipelagos. And Lornvale…"
"The blood-drenched blades of Lornvale," muttered Gareth Ironfang as he stomped up beside them. "Their top student once cut through a Steelclad Golem with a training blade. Crazy bastards."
"And that was only last year," added Cassia Belvane. She approached with a book half-closed in her hand. "This year's batch might be worse."
"Stronger, you mean?" Evan asked quietly.
"Same thing," Cassia replied with a shrug.
The loud clang of ceremonial drums echoed across the courtyard. The sound alone sent waves through the gathered student body.
Then the gates opened.
First came Xythra Academy, their students robed in navy and sapphire. Their emblem—an open eye crowned by stars—glowed faintly with illusion magic.
At the front walked a boy with dark brown skin and white-gold hair tied behind him in a cascade. His golden eyes scanned the surroundings with deliberate slowness.
"Prince Uriel Vahn," murmured Silva. "Third son of the Seer Queen of Xythra. Elemental affinity: Wind and Time."
He gave a brief nod toward the crowd, his gaze briefly meeting Evan's. A soft smile tugged at his lips—cordial, but unreadable.
Next was Caelesthall Academy. Their arrival was far more dramatic.
Floating runes formed beneath their feet as they glided into the courtyard—not walking but hovering. Their uniforms shimmered like light on water, and each of them carried a crystal orb embedded in their chests like a badge of honor.
Leading them was a girl dressed in flowing sea-blue robes. She had no shoes and walked barefoot across the enchanted stone like she belonged to another world.
"Aelira Dawnspell," said Cassia. "Prodigy of the Isles. Rumors say she has Space and Ice affinity. Born during a rift storm."
"She doesn't look threatening," Gareth scoffed.
"She doesn't need to," Cassia replied with a knowing glance.
The final academy arrived last—Lornvale, and their arrival silenced even the wind.
Heavy iron boots hit the ground in unison. Their uniforms were made of reinforced leather and plated shoulder guards, marked with the crest of twin blades crossed beneath a wolf's skull. No magic surrounded them. No floating, no glowing.
Just presence.
Leading them was a tall youth with short crimson hair and eyes like molten amber.
"Kael Darnic," Silva whispered. "The Crimson Duelist. He's killed in real duels before. And he's only sixteen."
Kael didn't even look at the students. His eyes were fixed ahead—toward the central tower where the professors waited.
Evan's gaze lingered on Kael. There was something about him—an emptiness, a silence that wasn't born of ignorance but control. Power held back not because it was weak, but because it was dangerous.
"Lovely," Nox hissed softly in his ear. "Can I bite him?"
"No," Evan replied dryly. "Not yet."
Lilith appeared beside him, her raven-black hair tied elegantly behind her back, deep crimson eyes glowing faintly. "Such arrogant arrivals," she said. "I didn't know showing off was part of foreign etiquette."
Evan glanced at her. "You sound jealous."
"I'm not," she said too quickly. "Just bored."
Cassia smirked.
Professor Marrow approached the gathering. "Students," he announced, "the Inter-Academy Tournament begins in three weeks. This year, the Empire's throne demands more than a display of talent. This year… it demands unity and dominance."
Whispers erupted.
"Unity?" Silva echoed, skeptical. "What are they planning?"
Evan didn't answer.
Because at that moment, a royal messenger—clad in deep crimson and bearing the imperial insignia—stepped through the crowd.
His voice rang out like a bell: "Evan Rochel. A sealed letter from His Majesty, the Emperor of the Arkanthian Empire."
Everyone turned.
Evan blinked.
Even the foreign princes froze for a moment.
Lilith narrowed her eyes. "A letter from the Emperor himself?"
Evan stepped forward and accepted the scroll.
The seal was real. The Emperor's crest gleamed under the sunlight. But he didn't open it.
Instead, he placed it into the folds of his coat.
Some things weren't meant to be read in front of others.
Cassia was staring at him. "You're not surprised."
"I am," Evan replied calmly. "I'm just used to surprises."
Gareth grunted. "This year's tournament is going to be a bloodbath."
Nox hissed softly. "We should sharpen our fangs."
"Already working on it," Evan muttered.
As the foreign academies mingled with the local students, the sparks of rivalry—old and new—began to flare.
And soon, the Fourth Spark would ignite.
A few hours after the arrival ceremony, Aflety's grand dining hall had been transformed into a banquet chamber. Golden chandeliers flickered with starlight-infused mana, and long tables were set with the finest dishes from across the Empire and beyond—roast wind-beasts, glacier trout, sunfruit wine, and sparkling silverbread that shimmered like frost.
But while the food dazzled, the air was anything but light.
Evan leaned against one of the arched windows near the side of the hall, absently watching the guests move like pieces on a chessboard. Lilith stood near him, sipping blood-infused tea from a crystal goblet, her expression unreadable. Nox curled around Evan's shoulders like a living scarf, occasionally flicking his tongue out toward plates of food he couldn't reach.
"Stop staring at the flame-roasted wyvern, Nox," Evan muttered. "You're not eating that."
"But it smells divine," the Basilisk whispered in mock sorrow. "Besides, that boy from Caelesthall stole two of them already."
"That boy," Lilith said, nodding toward a pale-skinned youth with ethereal blue hair, "is named Iscerian Velth. He's Caelesthall's runeweaver—top of his class."
"He eats like he's been cursed with hollow legs," Nox said.
"Maybe he has," Evan said dryly.
Across the hall, Silva Elowen sat at one of the long tables, locked in a silent, sharp-edged conversation with Prince Uriel Vahn from Xythra. Their expressions were polite, but their eyes glimmered with subtle challenge.
"I don't trust that smile of his," Gareth Ironfang grunted as he flopped into a chair beside Evan with a plate stacked high with roasted beast ribs. "Too polished."
Cassia Belvane joined them shortly after, setting down a glowing tome instead of food. "He's dangerous," she murmured. "People like Uriel see ten moves ahead. And he's not here just for honor or alliances. He's looking for pawns."
"Or partners," Lilith said, eyes narrowing.
Cassia smirked. "Not a difference, to someone like him."
Suddenly, a loud clang drew the room's attention. A duel had erupted in one of the smaller courtyards beyond the banquet hall.
"Already?" Evan asked, eyebrows raised.
Kael Darnic—the Crimson Duelist—stood in the center of a dueling ring, blade drawn, his opponent crumpled on the ground, magic armor cracked.
Whispers shot across the room like wildfire.
"He challenged one of Aflety's second-years," someone muttered.
"Won with three strikes," said another.
"He wasn't even serious."
The tension spiked.
"Ego flares early this year," Cassia murmured.
"They want to intimidate us before the tournament begins," Lilith said, her voice growing cold.
Nox shifted on Evan's shoulder, eyes glowing faintly. "Let me fight him, Evan. Just once. One venom sting—"
"Later," Evan said. "Much later."
A gong rang out—soft but resonant. The center dais of the banquet hall shimmered, and an illusionary projection of the tournament layout appeared above it.
Professor Marrow took the stage, joined by three foreign deans—one from each of the visiting academies.
"This year's tournament," Marrow began, "will not follow traditional brackets. Instead, it will be held in phases. Twelve elemental trials. One for each of the Twelve Elements."
The projection shifted—twelve ancient ruins appeared, each glowing with a specific elemental hue.
"The teams must compete in six trials—randomly assigned—each tied to one or more elemental fields. Combat, strategy, survival, and team synergy will be tested."
Cassia's eyes flickered with sudden interest. "Elemental Labyrinth challenges?"
"Exactly," Marrow continued. "Teams will be comprised of five students each. You may only use your beast companions, natural magic, and one relic per member."
Evan stiffened slightly. He hadn't yet claimed a relic, but Lord Gawain had hinted one would come soon enough.
"The top four teams will proceed to the final round," Marrow finished, "which will be… a team-free-for-all. Last team standing takes the crown."
"And the Emperor's favor," added the dean from Lornvale, a skeletal man wrapped in black furs and silver tattoos. His voice was a growl.
There was silence for a moment—then the murmurs began again, louder, more intense.
Silva approached the group again, eyes sharp.
"Looks like we need to finalize our team," she said.
"You assume we'll work together?" Gareth asked.
She raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to lose?"
He shut up.
Evan exhaled. "We'll figure it out."
Lilith looked at him from the corner of her eye. "And what about the Emperor's letter?"
Evan's gaze drifted to the inner pocket of his uniform, where the letter still lay, untouched.
"I'll open it when it matters most."
"Let's hope that's not too late," Cassia said quietly.
Then, at that moment, Kael Darnic strode into the hall, blood still drying on his blade. His eyes swept across the room—and stopped on Evan.
Their gazes met.
No words passed.
But in that silence, something ignited.
The Fourth Spark.
Chapter End
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