Luteo Hall, Building B, Room 105.
Shannon slowly stretched her body in the empty sand-covered arena.
Professor Winslet hadn’t arrived yet.
The audience seats were noisy, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. She was too focused.
Or maybe… too tense.
That was fine.
She couldn’t afford to waste energy on anything else right now.
Shannon closed her eyes, summoning the image of the man she would soon face.
Winter Winslet.
Thirty years old. A head taller than her.
A master of Ice Magic, recognized as a 7-class mage in Karaf five years ago.
Who knew how much stronger he had become since? But really—could anyone accomplish anything remarkable in this remote kingdom’s academy, so far removed from the mainstream magical world?
Why is he even teaching here?
If he had stayed in Karaf, he could have gained so much more.
The moment that thought crossed her mind, Shannon felt her concentration waver.
Once derailed, her mind unraveled like loose yarn.
Why are you doing this?
Aren’t you just pushing yourself into this?
It’s almost like you want to fight him…
Suddenly, Rita’s words came back to her.
At the time, she had been startled—as if her thoughts had been read.
She hated to admit it, but Rita was right.
She wanted to fight him.
But for what?
Even she didn’t have the answer.
She had come all the way from Karaf, taken his class, and finally challenged him to a duel, all to find that answer.
Because he insulted her school and her master?
That was only an excuse.
An excuse so perfect even Winslet—and she herself—might have believed it.
But even if he hadn’t insulted her, she knew she would have confronted him eventually.
Because of her own will.
This was personal.
Shannon Quinlivan’s long-standing resentment toward Winter Winslet.
Old grudges, jealousy, and anger.
The first time she met him was five years ago.
She was fourteen.
***
Winter Winslet had been a guest of the Tower.
Shannon was the tower master’s great-granddaughter.
Hosting guests had been part of her duties: preparing Winslet’s room, introducing him to the other residents.
Her great-grandfather, Benizelos, the founder and great master of their magical school, often welcomed visitors seeking magical knowledge.
But Winslet wasn’t just another guest.
He stood out immediately at conferences and seminars—
A genius whose talent pierced through everything like a needle hidden in a pocket.
Benizelos saw his potential instantly.
Ambitious as ever, he wanted to recruit Winslet as an official disciple of the school.
But Winslet refused.
He claimed there was nothing more to learn—everything had grown boring.
That rejection enraged Benizelos.
He developed a stress-induced illness and tormented his disciples even more harshly afterward.
And that was when Shannon’s life changed.
As if to fill the void left by losing a genius like Winslet, her great-grandfather became obsessed with her potential.
"Shannon, you must inherit the tower and carry on the prosperity of our school. You have talent. Wasting talent is a sin."
And she did have talent—enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with her great-grandfather’s adult disciples despite her young age.
At first, magic had been fun.
Each new spell brought praise and smiles, and she had loved learning more because of it.
But sometimes, her great-grandfather’s disappointed looks stabbed at her like shards of glass.
"We should have held onto that boy…"
"Winter Winslet—he’s a once-in-a-millennium genius…"
"Compared to him… even my great-granddaughter, hmm."
Eventually, he began handing her impossibly difficult tasks.
If she failed, he punished her.
The punishments started mild. At first.
"You must become a greater mage than that boy."
"This isn’t enough. Not enough! Ah, it had to be him… Not this useless child!"
"You carry my blood, and this is all you can do? No breaks or sleep this week."
Her father and mother, who once tried to intervene, soon disappeared from the Tower altogether.
And Shannon kept trying.
She believed that if she became a great mage, if she pleased him, things would return to the way they were.
But her great-grandfather’s obsession was madness.
"The Winter Winslet who became Benizelos’s official disciple and rose to greatness"—
That comparison existed only in her great-grandfather’s mind.
It was an impossible, unfair standard for a young girl still longing for her parents.
She endured beatings, nosebleeds, endless study, but she could never satisfy him.
Magic stopped being fun.
Misery replaced passion, and her progress stalled.
Her great-grandfather’s gaze grew colder.
The expectations of those around her became a weight of fear.
She wondered if she had done something wrong, tried new methods, but only lost her way.
By the time she realized it, she was broken.
And all she had left were misery, jealousy, and resentment.
She hated the man she was compared to.
She envied his talent.
She resented him.
If only he had stayed.
If he had remained her great-grandfather’s disciple, maybe the old man wouldn’t look at her with such cold eyes.
Maybe she wouldn’t have been so miserable.
Maybe she would have had family she could trust.
Maybe she wouldn’t have been so lonely.
If only. If only. If only…
Those thoughts only made each day more bitter.
Then, one day, she heard the news.
"Special Guest Professor Winter Winslet at the Royal Academy of Lorencia."
The announcement was practically shouted to the world.
For some reason, Shannon was furious.
Or rather—she didn’t understand the reason yet.
That news crushed the only hope she had clung to.
So he threw away the future of our school… just to become a mere teacher?
He ruined my life for THIS?
Shannon stormed out of the Tower.
She applied to study abroad in Lorencia.
She had to see for herself.
How great a mage was Winter Winslet, really?
Was her great-grandfather’s obsession justified?
If he turned out to be nothing special, if he was just mediocre, maybe she could finally feel at peace.
But if he truly was as great as everyone said…
Then she would prove herself.
She would prove that she surpassed him.
That the great-granddaughter of Benizelos was greater than Winter Winslet.
Even if it meant risking her life.
As she reaffirmed that vow, she noticed something strange.
The noise around her had vanished.
Was she simply calm now?
No.
The duel arena had genuinely gone silent.
Because the man of the hour had arrived.
Professor Winter Winslet.
***
Silence.
The moment I entered, the gymnasium went dead quiet.
If stares had weight, my body would be riddled with holes.
The sharpest gaze came straight from the front.
Shannon Quinlivan.
Her bold eyes showed not the slightest hint of fear.
Not for a second did she seem to think she could lose.
Good. That was exactly what I wanted.
I had pushed for this duel to make my superiority absolutely clear.
The more effort Shannon put in, the better for me.
Only by shattering her pride could I recruit her as an ally.
“Hmm, both of you arrived on time. I am Jonathan Kingfisher, your duel’s official witness.”
The Dean appeared right on cue.
Standing in the center of the arena, he flashed me an obsequious smile.
“Good afternoon, Professor. Have you eaten? Oh, yes, of course—shut up and start already? Yes, sir, right away.”
The witness’s role was to explain the circumstances, the rules, and the conditions for victory.
Kingfisher read from his prepared script.
Neither Shannon nor I objected.
The rules were basic.
Leave the arena or kill your opponent—automatic loss.
“Once again, taking a life is against the rules. But!”
“…?”
I turned sharply to look at him.
Why “but”?
The Dean, ignoring my glare, hurried on.
“But accidents happen in fierce battles, yes? If anyone dies, I, Jonathan Kingfisher, will personally handle the aftermath. So please, fight fairly and give it your all. Understood?”
Murmur, murmur.
The audience buzzed.
And somehow, even though the Dean had spouted nonsense, I was the one getting all the blame.
“That lunatic professor is really planning to kill someone in the Academy!”
“He even bribed the Dean! How terrifying is this guy?”
“No, he must’ve blackmailed him. Rumor says Winslet’s actually a big shot in the underworld…”
Apparently, in everyone’s mind, I was now the root of all evil.
And sure enough, when I looked forward, Shannon was glaring at me too.
Her expression practically screamed, Of course. I should’ve known.
“Pathetic. Really.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Did you think I’d be scared by this?”
…I didn’t.
“I’m not afraid of you. Not one bit.”
I turned my head in disbelief, only to see the true culprit wink at me.
The wink said, I did well, right?
Jonathan Kingfisher.
I’ll deal with you later.
“Both sides, take your positions. The duel will begin when this tuning fork rings.”
The magically tuned fork acted as a delayed timer.
The oval-shaped arena had us standing at opposite ends, with the Dean charging mana into the fork.
The wait was short.
One second. Two… Three.
Booong.
The duel began.
And immediately—
Boom!
An explosion erupted against my face.