The capital greeted me with noise, stone, and movement—layers of life stacked atop one another without pause.

  Whatever questions teleportation raised, I pushed them aside. This was neither the place nor the time to examine them.

  I had arrived for a reason, and that reason lay ahead.

  The gatherings would begin soon.

  A carriage was already waiting for me.

  I stepped inside without comment.

  As the carriage rolled forward, the capital slipped past the window in measured fragments—avenues giving way to broader streets, crowds thinning, guards growing more numerous.

  After traveling for a while,The carriage gradually slowed, the steady rhythm of hooves fading.

  Beyond the window, the venue for the gatherings came into view.

  The Silver Floret Hall was vast, but not ostentatious. Pale marble pillars lined the walls, each engraved with floral patterns so delicate they looked grown rather than carved. Soft mana-lamps floated near the ceiling, their light warm and steady, illuminating the polished floor without casting harsh shadows.

  Young nobles were already gathered inside, clustered in small circles. Some laughed too loudly, others spoke with rehearsed politeness, while a few stood apart, observing—measuring. Silk dresses and tailored coats hid nervous fingers and restrained excitement. This was not a battlefield, but it was still a test.

  At the center of the hall, an open space had been left deliberately clear. Not a stage—just room. For introductions. For conversations that would be remembered. For duels that might or might not happen.

  I felt it then—the subtle pressure of attention. Not focused yet, but present. New faces were always noticed. Especially ones that arrived late to a gathering like this.

  I straightened my back, steadied my breathing, and stepped further inside.

  This was my first Silver Floret.

  And first impressions, I knew, would echo far longer than words.

  The moment I stepped into the hall, the atmosphere shifted.

  Conversations didn’t stop—but they softened, thinning into careful murmurs. I could feel eyes on me, not openly curious, but assessing. Names mattered here. Houses mattered more.

  I followed protocol, returning greetings as they came. A nod. A polite exchange of names. Nothing excessive. Nothing familiar. Just enough to be remembered without standing out.

  As the initial formalities settled, the flow of the gathering moved naturally toward the center of the hall.

  Magic duels.

  They were one of the most representative ways to demonstrate one’s achievements—especially at gatherings like this. Talent, control, growth. All of it could be conveyed in a single exchange.

  A step echoed against the marble floor.

  Kyle Voltrien moved first.

  There was no announcement, no flourish—just confidence sharp enough to cut through the murmurs. Lightning-aspected mana flickered faintly around him, restrained but unmistakable.

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  “Raine Aquilon,” he said, voice steady. “Care to settle it again?”

  A ripple passed through the hall.

  Again.

  That single word carried weight. It meant history. It meant precedent.

  Raine stepped forward a moment later.

  Unlike Kyle, she drew no attention to herself. No outward surge of mana. No display. Yet the moment she entered the dueling space, the temperature dipped—just slightly, just enough for my skin to notice.

  This would be their third.

  Kyle had lost the last two.

  She stepped into the ring without a word.

  Training weapons were arranged along the edge—swords, staffs, bows, spears—each enchanted to blunt lethal force. Raine didn’t hesitate. Her hand closed around a spear, smooth and familiar, as if the choice had been made long before she entered.

  Of course. That was her main weapon.

  A moment later, Kyle entered from the opposite side. He paused—only briefly—before selecting his own spear. Lightning matched best with a thrusting weapon. Straight, fast, decisive. There was no reason for him to handicap himself.

  They moved to their positions, weapons in hand, facing one another across the ring.

  Someone approached without drawing attention and took the seat beside me.

  “Who do you think will win?” she asked quietly.

  I turned my head just enough to look at her before shifting my gaze back to the ring.

  The familiar eyes. The same shade I’d seen across the dining table countless times.

  “Raine,” I answered without hesitation.

  She tilted her head. “You know about her?”

  “Of course,” I said. “Who doesn’t? The prodigy of House Aquilon, born with the rare ice attribute.”

  There was a brief pause before she spoke again.

  “Isn’t the same true for Kyle?”

  I nodded. “It is. The genius of House Voltrien, lightning attribute. Rare, powerful, and perfectly suited for combat.”

  She tilted her head slightly.

  “Then?”

  “You already know the answer, Aria,” I said.

  She smiled, unbothered. “I wanted to hear how you’d justify it.”

  I looked back toward the ring.

  “Just intuition.”

  She clicked her tongue.

  “How boring.

  Here I thought you were supporting her just because she was cute.”

  I let out a short breath, almost a laugh.

  “In your imagination.”

  She grinned, clearly satisfied she’d gotten a reaction out of me.

  A clear voice cut through the hall.

  “Begin.”

  The last traces of chatter vanished instantly.

  Raine and Kyle moved at the same time, spears lifting as mana surged to the surface. Frost crept along the marble while lightning snapped sharply through the air.

  I leaned forward slightly.

  The duel had begun.

  Kyle moved first.

  A thrust—clean, direct, lightning threading along the spear’s length.

  Raine answered in kind.

  Her spear met his head-on, ice reinforcing the point as the weapons rang sharply.

  They separated and advanced again.

  Another thrust.

  Another clash.

  Lightning and ice collided in near-perfect symmetry, neither yielding ground.

  Around them, frost traced the floor while static crackled in the air.

  From a distance, they looked evenly matched.

  Up close—

  Raine’s breathing never changed.

  Kyle was the first to change.

  His movements accelerated, lightning flaring brighter as he closed the distance again and again. Each thrust came faster than the last, the pressure mounting.

  Raine responded by conjuring ice.

  Not a wall—just enough to reinforce her guard. The spear in her hand absorbed the impact, frost spreading along the shaft as she held her ground.

  Then she moved.

  Her counter came immediately—a sharp thrust that forced Kyle to twist aside. She followed it with a kick aimed at his abdomen.

  He narrowly dodged.

  But the evasion left an opening.

  Raine stepped in and checked him with the back end of her spear, a short, controlled strike to his side.

  His balance broke.

  Kyle fell to the ground, the impact echoing faintly through the hall.

  Before he could recover, ice crept beneath him, locking his movement in place.

  Raine stood over him, spear leveled at his throat.

  “You lost.”

  Kyle exhaled slowly, then gave a small nod.

  “…Yeah.”

  A beat of silence followed.

  Then the tension dissolved into low murmurs.

  “Winner, Raine Aquilon,” a calm voice announced.

  She hadn’t won by overpowering him.

  I exhaled slowly.

  She had ended it the moment he chose speed over balance.

  Applause rose softly as the duel concluded, then faded back into conversation.

  Aria glanced at me sideways.

  “So,” she said, “your intuition was right.”

  I nodded once.

  “It usually is.”

  She studied the ring for a moment longer.

  “Kyle really gave it his all this time.”

  “He did,” I said. “That’s why the outcome mattered.”

  Aria looked at me again, eyes narrowing slightly.

  “You didn’t hesitate,” she said. “When I asked who would win.”

  I leaned back.

  “The moment he chose speed over control, it was already decided.”

  She was quiet for a heartbeat.

  “You say things like that,” she murmured, “as if you’ve seen it before.”

  I didn’t answer.

  My gaze drifted to where Raine stood, calm even after the duel.

  Some truths were better left unsaid.