The morning sun beat down on the Class S eastern training grounds, sending a sharp, dry heat across the wide dirt track. Instructor Luke stood at the center with his arms crossed and his scarred jaw set.
"Move! Ten laps around the perimeter, right now!"
Fifteen cadets surged forward in a disciplined jog. Ciel fell into step beside Iver, her stride light and even. For a few laps they ran in silence. As they rounded the western curve, she turned her head and studied him with sharp, analytical black eyes.
"Something changed about you," Ciel murmured, her breath steady. "I can’t say what. But you look different."
Iver kept his eyes on the track and held his calm fa?ade. ’Is it that visible?’
He knew his frame and muscle density had shifted after his Tier 3 breakthrough with Myrra. He hadn’t expected anyone to notice so fast.
Before he could think of a vague answer, Ansel chimed in from his other side, blue eyes bright with curiosity as he matched their pace. "I noticed it too. Your breathing is perfectly even, and your posture is sharper than it was on our mission. Did you take a high grade elixir or something?"
"No," Iver said smoothly. "You’re imagining things."
He had no intention of admitting he’d reached Tier 3 Spirit Manifestation. A twelve year old at a realm that eluded most adults would turn the Academy upside down. He had lived twenty four years in his past life, but that didn’t count here. If the truth got out, he would become the center of a political firestorm. Silence was safer.
He kept his steady pace, not noticing until that moment that the others were sweating under the sun while his face remained completely dry.
When the final whistle blew, Luke dismissed the track and ordered them to grab training weapons for individual sparring.
"No spirit energy!" Luke roared, pacing the line. "This is a test of pure swordsmanship and weapon handling. Pick a weapon and find a partner!"
The cadets scrambled to the rack for wooden or blunted steel weapons. Iver stood holding a standard practice blade when a familiar figure stepped into the open dirt ring across from him. Ansel spun his ivory-hilted blade in a smooth, effortless flourish.
"Sure."
Word of a spar between the Second Prince and the mysterious Tier 2 commoner drew the rest of Class S into a wide circle. Ciel crossed her arms at the edge of the crowd. Adela watched closely from across the ring.
"Begin!" Luke barked.
Ansel moved first, closing the distance with fluid footwork. His blade swept in a bright diagonal arc at Iver’s shoulder. Iver stepped inside his guard and raised his sword to parry.
CLANG.
Careful, he thought. Holding back Tier 3 strength while matching Ansel’s refined royal fencing demanded micro adjustments every second. Too much force and he’d knock the prince’s weapon away or hurt him. Too little, and he’d look clumsy.
Clang! Clash!
Ansel pressed with a flurry of elegant thrusts. Iver parried each one with calm precision, matching him step for step without overcommitting, answering every attempt to slip past his guard with a neutral block.
The exchange stretched past three minutes, a high-level display of balanced footwork and clean parries that drew murmurs of appreciation from the circle.
Long enough to look like a real contest, Iver judged. He let Ansel’s final sweeping strike meet his blade with a balanced clatter and stumbled back half a step to feign exhaustion.
Ansel checked his momentum gracefully and lowered his sword with a satisfied grin. "Hah. Good match. You’re tough to crack, Ares."
"You as well, Your Highness."
"Call it a draw!" Luke declared, stepping between them. "Reset, both of you."
The remaining bouts played out quickly. Gideon fought a minor noble and vented his lingering frustration in a brutal series of unrefined strikes, winning messily. Sitri dismantled her opponent in total silence with cold, precise daggers. Read this novel at novelping dot com for the best experience.
Once every round was done, Luke called the class to the center. "That’s enough physical training for today. Before you go, sit where you are. Cross your legs, close your eyes, and meditate on the field. I want zero movement. Feel your internal spirit control and stabilize your core. Dismissed!"
The cadets dropped onto the grass and settled into silent meditation. Iver crossed his legs on the warm earth and closed his eyes. Beneath his skin, the vast, harmonious web of Tier 3 energy hummed through his pathways, stable and fully under his command. He let out a slow breath as the lesson drew to a close.
...
Later that afternoon, in his private room on the upper terrace, Gideon sat at his desk when a sharp tap sounded at the window. He spun to find a dark, sealed messenger envelope on the stone sill. He grabbed it, broke the wax seal, and unfolded the parchment.
A manic grin spread across his face and became a booming laugh. "Hahahaha! Let’s see how you deal with this!"
The humiliation at the hands of that commoner still burned. He had convinced himself that the boy had survived only because the Prince’s presence kept shielding him, and that the night of their secret clash had been a fluke.
Let’s see how you enjoy things now, Gideon thought, eyes gleaming.
A week ago, he had written a detailed letter to his family’s main estate in Requiem, informing his mother of the insolent commoner who had dared defy House Vorne. This was the confirmation he’d been waiting for. The family’s enforcers were on their way.
"I’ll finally be rid of that eyesore," he muttered, picturing Ciel smug and loving at the commoner’s side, and tsk’d bitterly. "And then she’ll be mine."
...
High above the central administrative spires, three shadowy figures crouched in absolute silence along a dark slate ridge. Their stealth mantles bent the surrounding light until they blended into the night.
"We need to finish this quickly and get out," the lead assassin whispered through a muffled receiver, scanning the campus below.
"Relax," the second murmured, adjusting a concealed blade at his wrist. "It’s a targeted hit on a stray commoner. Five minutes."
The third shook his head, breathing tight. "You both know that thing is here. If we linger, it might notice our signatures and come for us. Strike fast, confirm the kill, and get out of the Empire."