Preparation for the Duel

  The preparation for the duel didn’t take long. Hiro hadn’t expected things to move so fast—but by five in the evening, he was already summoned. The sun hadn’t yet dipped below the horizon, its golden rays illuminating the Academy’s stone walls, and the air buzzed with anticipation.

  The arena was far larger than Hiro had imagined: a wide space covered in sand, surrounded by stands. A massive field, comparable to a football pitch, felt like a place where not just students fought, but future mages and adventurers whose actions could shape the kingdom’s fate.

  Students and teachers already filled the stands, curiosity burning in their eyes. It was rare to see a newcomer from Omega-1 face Rosaline herself, the head of the student council.

  At the far end of the arena stood Rosaline. She wore a tight black leather fencing outfit—practical yet accentuating her figure. In her hands were two identical swords, forged in the same smithy they had seen earlier that day.

  She stepped closer, about twenty meters away, and with a light flick, tossed one sword to Hiro. He caught it easily in midair, slowly inspecting the blade.

  “…As expected,” he muttered under his breath. “It’ll crack with a single strike.”

  He lifted his head slightly, sizing up his opponent, then lazily dropped the sword into the sand. The blade sank deep, leaving a jagged mark.

  “Giving up already?” Rosaline asked with a smirk, lifting her chin.

  Hiro looked at her with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, tilting his head.

  “No. I’ll just fight with my bare hands.”

  A collective gasp and murmur rose from the stands. Some laughed, others gasped.

  Rosaline’s eyes widened—momentarily, she was struck by shock. For an instant, Hiro’s figure merged with the image of the Void God—the S-rank adventurer she idolized—and her heart skipped a beat. She shook her head sharply, and the vision vanished.

  “Fool,” she whispered to herself.

  Gathering herself, Rosaline raised her sword, taking a stance: right hand diagonally up, blade aimed at Hiro. She looked focused, resolute, and cold.

  Hiro smirked faintly.

  “She’s a girl… and she wants to challenge a man in swordsmanship… Well then. Respect is due.”

  He assumed a combat stance: feet planted firmly in the sand, left foot forward, right foot back. Hands positioned before his chest: left extended, right closer to his body. Fingers relaxed, not clenched—like he was holding an invisible weapon.

  At that moment, Rosaline felt a strange ringing in her ears. It grew, like a bell splitting her skull. She clenched her teeth, the pain pounding in her temples, as if someone were hammering nails into her head. Instinctively, she pressed a hand to her temple and squeezed her eyes shut.

  “What… is this?”

  Her consciousness filled with white. Before her stood a shadow of a person—a figure mirroring Hiro’s stance. His voice echoed, soft yet oppressive:

  “Come on, I’m ready. Attack.”

  His face was obscured, blurred like mist, but the overwhelming sense of power pressed down on her chest, undeniable.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  Rosaline tried to step forward—and suddenly everything cracked. The white world shattered like glass, and the headache vanished abruptly.

  She opened her eyes.

  Before her stood Hiro, slightly frowning. One brow was raised, his expression showing mild confusion.

  “Are you okay?” he asked calmly. “Something wrong?”

  The stands buzzed: some shouted support for Rosaline, others teased Hiro. The teachers observed with stoic faces, trying to understand what had just happened.

  Rosaline inhaled sharply, lowering her hand from her temple and straightening her posture.

  “Nothing. Just… the light hit my eyes.”

  Hiro’s concern deepened.

  “If you’re not feeling well, we can postpone the duel.”

  Her cheeks flamed, but she gritted her teeth and raised her sword higher.

  “Not a chance!”

  And the duel began.

  ---

  Rosaline swung her sword sharply, blade aimed straight at Hiro.

  A smile appeared on his face—not arrogance, not mockery, but pure battle thrill, the very reason he lived.

  “Here we go,” he said quietly.

  Rosaline lunged, her feet cutting through the arena sand, her body moving lightly as if the wind itself followed her. Her sword gleamed in the setting sun—a downward strike, lightning-fast, aimed at Hiro.

  But for him, time seemed to slow.

  Hiro raised his right hand and lightly tapped the blade from the side, redirecting it. Simultaneously, his left hand sent out a short wave of mana, invisible to the eye but carrying immense force.

  Rosaline was thrown several dozen meters back. She flipped in midair, landing heavily, raising a cloud of sand. Gasping, she still stood.

  The stands went silent.

  Her sword had flown from her hand and lay in the sand, but Hiro lightly nudged it with his foot, kicking it back into her palm. He did the same with his own sword, which had been lodged in the sand nearby.

  He stepped forward, arms outstretched like a predator widening his silhouette, appearing larger and more threatening.

  “Let’s continue,” he said calmly, almost challengingly.

  Anger surged in Rosaline’s chest. She gritted her teeth and attacked again—two fast, precise strikes. Hiro dodged, moving as if time itself had slowed. Then he tapped her blade lightly.

  Rosaline prepared to counter, but noticed Hiro hadn’t attacked seriously—he had only grazed her sword.

  “What is he doing…?”

  She tried to counter, but Hiro raised his hand and took the strike directly on his palm. The metal shattered with a crack, scattering like glass.

  Rosaline’s eyes widened.

  “T-This…” she exhaled.

  Before she could finish, a kick landed squarely in her stomach. The air burst from her lungs; she flew back, landing in the sand. Her second sword spun into the air and soared upward.

  Gasping, she turned her head. Against the blinding sun, Hiro’s figure seemed almost divine. He calmly reached up and caught the falling sword. Lightly, as if it were a mere stone, he broke it in half and dropped the pieces beside her.

  “I told you,” he said evenly, “swords aren’t worth a single strike.”

  He paused briefly, adding:

  “But you fought honorably.”

  The crowd erupted in cheers, laughter, and applause.

  Hiro didn’t look back. Turning, he calmly walked off the arena.

  Rosaline lay for a few moments, clutching the sand. Then she slowly rose, brushing off her outfit. Her entourage rushed to her side, but she barely listened.

  Her gaze was fixed on Hiro’s departing figure. Her face burned with anger, but in her eyes lingered something else—confusion and interest, feelings that unsettled even her.

  “What was that…?”

  ---

  Nightfall

  Hours later, night had fallen. Darkness enveloped the Academy. In the female dormitory, behind thick stone walls, Rosaline lay on her bed in a thin white nightgown, not bothering to cover herself. The day had been exhausting, her body still aching from the duel.

  A quiet knock echoed at the door.

  “Rosaline…” came a timid voice.

  The door cracked open slightly, revealing a girl with dark hair. She cleared her throat, speaking more formally:

  “Princess Rosaline de Lacour. How are you?”

  Rosaline smiled, sitting up and tossing her hair over her shoulder.

  “Anna, come in.”

  Anna entered cautiously and sat beside her. Her voice was tinged with guilt:

  “Princess… today is your birthday, sixteen years old—it’s important. And I couldn’t be with you earlier, I had… family matters. But I heard about your duel… are you alright?”

  Rosaline touched her stomach and nodded.

  “All good. Almost no pain now.”

  Anna looked down, a little saddened:

  “It was your sixteenth birthday… you’re growing up. And today, no one properly congratulated you…”

  Rosaline gently patted her head:

  “It’s fine. What matters is that you’re here.”

  Anna smiled for the first time that day. Suddenly, a muffled pop sounded outside. She jumped and ran to the window.

  “Rosaline! Look! Fireworks!”

  Rosaline stood beside her. Outside, fiery streaks shot into the night sky, one after another, exploding in brilliant red, gold, and blue.

  Her face lit up.

  “For… what occasion?” she whispered.

  Anna laughed brightly:

  “Well! It’s all for you, Princess. Today’s your celebration! The Academy decided to congratulate you like this.”

  Rosaline glanced at her friend, then back to the window. The sky reflected in her eyes, shimmering with colors.

  “Do you think…?” she said softly. After a short pause, she added even more quietly:

  “How beautiful…”

  ---

  Meanwhile, in the Academy Tower

  At the same time, in one of the Academy’s high towers, in a small dark room by the window, Hiro stood.

  Dozens of translucent blue circles, covered with ancient symbols, floated before him. They spun, shifted shapes, and glyphs flickered and vanished, replaced by new ones.

  Hiro moved his hands with focus, controlling their rhythm.

  “Speed up… Reduce the radius… Increase temperature… Keep range constant…”

  The circles gradually merged into a point. A translucent cube formed in his palm, trembling as if made of light. Hiro clenched his hand, and the cube vanished.

  He extended his right hand to the window.

  Three fireballs shot out: one flew straight, two curled around it like fiery serpents. They soared into the sky, bursting into a red-and-gold fireworks display.

  Hiro watched for several seconds, then waved his hand, and new bursts colored the dark sky.

  “Good enough,” he said coldly, closing the window.

  For him, it was just another mana experiment. But for someone else—it was a celebration.