Chapter 275: Formal Duels!
The Academy didn’t waste a single second enforcing the new hierarchy.
When the morning bells chimed, signaling the start of the new academic block, I walked into the newly assigned lecture hall for the Advanced Arcane Theory class.
The mid-term results had completely restructured our schedules. They had taken the top fifty students from the entire first-year batch and crammed us all into one class.
I made my way to the middle row.
Kyle was already sprawled out in a chair to my left, and Sira, who was sitting just behind him was laughing. Down in the absolute front row, Tobias had already claimed a seat perfectly centered to the podium.
A moment later, the distinct, sweet scent of floral shampoo drifted into the air next to me.
Emma slid into the empty chair on my right. She was humming that exact same light, bouncy melody from last night. She offered me a bright, flawless smile before opening her leather satchel, neatly taking out her heavy theoretical textbooks and arranging them on her desk with delicate precision.
I just gave her a curt nod, trying to ignore the faint, phantom stinging on my neck beneath my uniform collar.
Leaning back in my chair, I let my gaze sweep casually across the room and immediately locked onto two distinct pairs of eyes glaring absolute daggers at me.
The first was Torren Graves. He was seated near the front, flanked by his usual entourage of high-ranking nobles.
He was staring directly over his shoulder at me, his dark eyes burning with cold, unadulterated fury.
The second pair of eyes belonged to a sharp-featured girl with dark hair sitting two rows down, Elaria Kall, Eighth ran.
She was one of the aristocratic purists whose squad Emma and I had completely ambushed and robbed blind in the final hours of the exam. She looked like she wanted to set my desk on fire with her mind.
I didn’t break eye contact, nor did I offer them a reaction. I simply blinked slowly, letting my expression remain completely flat and entirely unbothered, before turning my attention down to my blank notebook.
Aggression without action was just a waste of energy. Let them glare.
I rested my chin on my hand, completely ignoring the burning hostility from the front rows, and waited in silence for the professor to walk in and start the class.
The heavy oak doors at the front of the class slammed shut with a resounding thud, instantly killing the low chatter in the room.
A tall man with sharp, battle-hardened features and a slightly disheveled dark coat strode down the center aisle. He didn’t carry a book or a theoretical staff. He moved with the quiet, balanced grace of a seasoned fighter.
He stopped behind the marble podium, bracing his hands against the edges, and swept his piercing gray eyes over the fifty students.
"Settle down," he ordered, his voice was gruff and carrying enough authority to immediately silence even the most entitled aristocrats in the front row.
"I am Professor Logan Mikensy. I will be your instructor for Advanced Arcane Theory and Combat Application for the remainder of this semester."
He paused, letting his gaze specifically drag over the students sitting in the center rows.
"You’re all sitting here because you survived the mid-terms," Professor Mikensy continued, his tone entirely devoid of praise. "You proved you have teeth. You secured the top fifty spots, which grants you the premium dorms, the high-tier dining hall, and priority access to the restricted archives."
He leaned forward slightly, a grim, wolfish smile touching his lips.
"But do not get comfortable. The Academy does not reward complacency. Your mid-term rankings are a baseline, not a permanent title."
Mikensy tapped a thick, calloused finger against the podium.
"Starting tomorrow, the formal dueling rings will open. Any student in this room, or from the lower brackets, has the absolute right to officially challenge one of the top ten ranked students. You win the duel, you take their spot. And all the privileges that come with it."
The room instantly erupted into a low, buzzing wave of murmurs.
Almost immediately, I felt the collective shift in the room’s attention. One by one, heads began to turn. Eyes flicked away from the podium and drifted straight toward the middle row. Toward me.
Oh... so you all think I am a easy target, huh?
If a student wanted a top-five spot, who were they going to challenge?
Rank 1, Torren Graves, the undisputed genius with lethal elemental control? Rank 3, Lyra Silverwood, an untouchable elven prodigy with a century of latent mana? Rank 4, Zhakhel Ironstone, a literal seven-foot-tall Lion-Kin juggernaut carrying a war hammer?
No. They were going to look directly at Rank 2. Jin Raith. The talentless, who managed to secure second place by sheer luck. To them, I wasn’t a threat; I was a glitch in the system. I was a free ticket to the top floor of the Elite Dormitory.
I kept my face perfectly blank, staring straight ahead at the chalkboard.
Just great, I thought, suppressing the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m going to spend the next three months fighting off every desperate, glory-seeking brat in this academy.
To my right, Emma let out a soft, highly amused hum. She didn’t look worried at all. In fact, she slowly turned her head, offering a bright, sweet smile to a group of upper-classmen glaring at us from the row ahead. They immediately flinched, unnerved by her complete lack of fear, and quickly turned their heads back around.
"Settle down!" Professor Mikensy barked, slamming his palm against the podium. The sharp crack of sound snapped the room back to attention.
"The dueling rings open tomorrow. Until then, you are here to learn how not to blow yourselves up. Open your textbooks to Chapter four. We are covering the volatile nature of dual-elemental compression."
The murmurs died instantly as fifty leather-bound books flipped open in unison.
The professor turned his back to begin writing complex, multi-layered formulas on the chalkboard, and the first official class of the new semester brutally dragged us back into the grind.