I was still watching the ring when Aria stood up.

  “Your turn,” she said.

  I blinked. “What?”

  She stepped forward, already rolling up her sleeve as if this had been decided long ago.

  “Duel me,” Aria said lightly. “If you win, I’ll introduce you to her.”

  I finally looked at her properly.

  “You’re using Raine as bait?”

  She smiled, unapologetic. “Motivation.”

  I sighed. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

  “Obviously,” she said, turning toward the ring. “So? Are you scared?”

  I stood.

  “You know I can’t say no after that.”

  Aria’s grin widened.

  “Good. I’d hate to explain to her that you lost your nerve before even saying hello.”

  She was misunderstanding things.

  It wasn’t that I was into Raine. Not in the way Aria clearly thought.

  But… that didn’t really matter.

  I had planned to introduce myself anyway. Doing it through someone she was already familiar with was simply more efficient.

  Less awkward. Less resistance.

  And if indulging Aria’s imagination was the price for that—

  I could live with it.

  We stepped into the ring together.

  The training weapons were still arranged along the edge, undisturbed since the last duel. I scanned them briefly this time.

  This time, Aria paused.

  Her gaze passed over the bows before stopping. She exhaled softly, then reached for a slender wand instead.

  “Not ideal,” she muttered.

  I knew what she meant. A bow needed distance. The ring wouldn’t give her that.

  She tested the wand in her hand, mana stirring as faint currents of air gathered at its tip.

  Wind bullets. Simple, precise, and fast.

  I turned to the weapons beside me and chose a sword.

  Balanced. Familiar. Close enough to force the issue.

  We returned to our positions, weapons ready.

  "Begin.”

  The word echoed once through the hall.

  Aria moved first.

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  A compressed burst of air tore toward me. I shifted aside and stepped in at the same time, sword cutting down in a swift diagonal arc.

  She didn’t block.

  Wind reinforced her movement as she slid out of range, the blade passing through empty space.

  I pressed forward.

  Another slash followed, faster this time, my footing light as wind carried me in. Aria retreated again, wand flicking as a counter burst of air slammed toward my chest.

  I braced and let it wash over me, boots skidding back half a step before I recovered.

  That pressure—

  It wasn’t raw force.

  It felt closer to gravity magic. Not equal, not absolute, but heavy enough to disrupt balance if taken head-on.

  I moved again.

  Hayakiri carried my blade in clean, swift arcs, each slash chaining naturally into the next. Aria responded in kind, evasion and counterattack flowing seamlessly as wind reinforced her steps.

  The exchange quickened.

  Steel cut through air. Wind bullets snapped past. The distance between us shrank and widened in rapid succession.

  She was smiling now.

  Not amused—curious.

  I felt it a moment later.

  My next slash slowed. Just slightly.

  My sword came down in a clean diagonal slash.

  It should have connected.

  It didn’t.

  The blade passed just short of her, the edge losing its bite at the final moment.

  I frowned and adjusted my footing, turning the missed strike into another. Wind followed my movement, sharpening the arc as I pressed forward.

  Again—

  Nothing.

  Not a block. Not a dodge. Just a narrow miss, as if something invisible had nudged my blade aside.

  Aria retreated lightly, wand lifting as another bullet of air formed.

  I deflected it and advanced, slashing horizontally this time, wind reinforcing my momentum.

  The edge dulled just before impact, my strike slipping past her guard by the smallest margin.

  She noticed the shift the moment I closed the distance.

  Aria flicked her wand downward.

  An outward surge of air erupted between us, a sudden pressure wave that slammed into my chest and hurled me back.

  I slid across the floor, boots grinding as I barely kept my footing.

  She didn’t chase.

  That was when the pattern became impossible to ignore.

  Aria wasn’t reacting to my sword.

  She was interfering with the flow of wind around it, disrupting the pressure just enough to ruin every strike.

  I exhaled slowly.

  Fine.

  I sheathed my sword.

  Aria blinked, then tilted her head slightly.

  “Giving up already?”

  Her tone was light, almost teasing—but her grip on the wand didn’t loosen.

  I met her gaze.

  “No,” I said calmly.

  “Just adjusting.”

  Wind bullets followed immediately.

  I moved forward through them, dodging rather than deflecting. Each time compressed air skimmed past me, I steadied my footsteps with earth, anchoring myself to the floor so my balance wouldn’t be taken.

  Aria retreated, firing again and again, her timing precise.

  I kept advancing.

  Slowly.

  Then the wind bullets vanished.

  The air surged outward instead.

  A heavy pressure slammed into me, a broad push meant to throw me back and reset the distance.

  I smiled.

  That’s what I was waiting for.

  Dark flowed through me, increasing my weight in an instant. The force struck head-on—and failed to move me.

  I stepped through it.

  Aria’s eyes widened, just a fraction.

  Her guard was open.

  Only then did my hand settle on the sword’s hilt.

  For a single, precise instant, I let the wind answer me.

  Quick draw.

  The blade rose in a clean vertical arc—

  Bonk.

  I tapped the flat of the sword gently against her head.

  “I win.”

  For a second, Aria didn’t move.

  Then she reached up and rubbed the spot where the sword had tapped her head.

  She clicked her tongue, then sighed.

  The corner of her mouth twitched despite herself.

  “Fine. You win.”

  A brief pause followed.

  Then the referee cleared his throat.

  “The duel is concluded,” he announced.

  His gaze moved between us before settling on me.

  “Victory to Lucian Aurelian.”

  Applause spread through the hall, restrained but sincere.

  Beneath it, murmurs followed.

  Quiet surprise. Quick reassessments.

  Aria Zephyros had always stood just behind Raine Aquilon and Kyle Voltrien.

  Third, by common consensus.

  And she had just lost.

  I ignored the whispers and stepped back, letting the ring fade behind me.

  As I stepped away from the ring, the noise of the hall faded to the background, a thought surfaced unbidden.

  I had crossed blades with Lyra before.

  She’d faced my sword head-on, countered my movements—but she’d never disrupted the wind itself. Never interfered with the flow I relied on.

  Had she seen it and chosen not to interfere?

  Had she simply allowed me to remain ignorant a little longer?

  Or had she left it for me to realize on my own?

  I didn’t know.

  But one thing was clear now.

  Technique alone wasn’t enough.

  Knowing how to fight mattered.

  But knowing who you were fighting mattered just as much.

  It was about reading the person standing in front of you—and deciding how to fight them.