The training grounds buzzed with cruel anticipation as students packed the observation stands. Word had spread like wildfire—**Ethan Gale**, the academy's resident failure, had actually accepted Rolan Veyne's duel challenge.
"Twenty silver says Rolan burns him to a crisp in under ten seconds," a third-year student chuckled, passing coins to his friends.
"I'll take that bet," another sneered. "Five seconds. Maybe less."
At the center of the arena, Rolan stretched his arms with exaggerated nonchalance, the embroidered sleeves of his noble's robes shimmering in the afternoon sun. His two lackeys—Garreth and Silas—stood at the sidelines, already celebrating their friend's inevitable victory.
Professor Dain, his scarred face unreadable, marked the combat boundaries with a wave of his staff. "Standard duel rules apply," he intoned. "First to yield or be rendered unconscious loses. No lethal force." His eyes lingered on Rolan as he said the last part.
Ethan stood motionless at his designated mark, the morning's discoveries thrumming through his veins. The **Holy Knight Shield** and **Heaven's Descent** spells hummed in his mind, their arcane matrices polished to perfection by the Infinite Point System.
Rolan cracked his knuckles. "Last chance to kneel and beg for mercy, Gale. I might go easy on you." His lips twisted into a smirk. "Might."
The crowd tittered.
Ethan said nothing. His stillness seemed to unnerve Rolan, whose smirk faltered for half a heartbeat before he covered it with a derisive snort.
Professor Dain raised his hand. "Begin!"
---
### **First Strike**
Rolan moved instantly, his hands weaving through an elaborate fire sigil. "**Inferno Burst!**"
The air itself screamed as a **swirling orb of white-hot flames** erupted from his palms. The spell—a full tier above what apprentices should be capable of—streaked toward Ethan with terrifying speed.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"That's a third-circle spell!" someone shouted.
"He's trying to kill him!"
The fireball **detonated** against Ethan's position with earth-shaking force. A mushroom cloud of flame and debris bloomed upward, the shockwave knocking several spectators off their feet. Heat rolled outward in visible waves, forcing even Professor Dain to raise a protective ward.
Silence.
Then—laughter.
Rolan brushed imaginary dust from his sleeves. "Pathetic. I told you it would be—"
A collective gasp cut him off.
---
### **The Golden Miracle**
The smoke cleared in ragged patches, revealing a **ten-foot-tall golden knight** kneeling at the explosion's epicenter. Its glowing greatshield remained planted firmly in the scorched earth, its ornate armor untouched by the inferno.
And behind that divine protection—**Ethan**, standing perfectly unharmed.
The crowd **erupted**.
"That's the **Holy Knight Shield**!" a senior mage screamed, nearly toppling over the railing in his shock. "A fifth-tier defensive spell!"
"Impossible! Even professors can't cast that without preparation!"
Rolan's face drained of color. His lips moved soundlessly before he managed a strangled, "H-how...?"
Ethan stepped forward. The golden knight dissolved into swirling motes of light as he raised his right hand toward the cloudless sky. His voice, when he spoke, carried across the suddenly silent arena:
"Your turn."
---
### **Heaven's Judgment**
The air itself seemed to **hold its breath**.
Then—
**"Heaven's Descent."**
A **deafening crack** split the world as a **column of blue-white lightning** thicker than an ancient oak **slammed down from the heavens**. The bolt struck Rolan dead-center, its brilliance forcing everyone to shield their eyes. The ground **shattered**, jagged chunks of stone hurled upward by the impact.
When the afterimages cleared, Rolan lay in a **smoldering crater three feet deep**, his expensive robes reduced to blackened rags. His body twitched violently, steam rising from his blistered skin.
**Silence.**
Then—**pandemonium.**
Students screamed. Several fainted. Professor Dain sprinted toward the crater, his protective wards flaring to life as he checked for a pulse. "MEDICS! NOW!"
Ethan lowered his hand. The smell of ozone clung to him as he turned toward the stands—where dozens of faces stared back in **abject terror**.
Garreth and Silas had pissed themselves.
Slowly, without hurry, Ethan walked toward the exit. The crowd **parted before him like wheat before a scythe**, some students actually tripping over themselves to get out of his path.
At the edge of the field, a lone figure stood apart from the chaos—**Lirien Veyne**, Rolan's elder sister. Her silver eyes tracked Ethan's every movement, her expression unreadable.
For the first time since his transmigration, Ethan felt the **weight of true danger**.
Then she was gone, vanished into the shadows between one blink and the next.
---
### **The Aftermath**
Ethan's dorm room door **splintered inward** before he'd even sat down.
Headmaster Aldric stood framed in the wreckage, his storm-gray robes crackling with restrained power. Behind him, six senior professors formed a half-circle of grim-faced judgment.
"Ethan Gale," the Headmaster's voice boomed, "you will explain **exactly** what happened today."
Ethan met his gaze without flinching. "I won a duel."
"With **two Supreme Tier spells**," hissed Professor Yvrelle, the academy's foremost authority on defensive magic. "Spells that require **decades** of study!"
The Headmaster's staff glowed ominously. "We will have answers, boy. One way or another."
Ethan smiled.
This was going to be **interesting**.