The sparring grounds were unusually crowded.
Rows of students gathered in loose clusters, their murmurs loud and buzzing with anticipation. The day's drills had been replaced with something far more entertaining.
"A special evaluation match."
That's what Instructor Draeven called it.
In truth, it was little more than a public display — a way to put promising students on show and let the nobles reaffirm their place atop the hierarchy. The academy called it tradition. Everyone else called it humiliation.
Kael stood near the edge of the ring, arms crossed, body still sore from the Ember Cave trial. His robes were damp with morning dew, his hair slightly tousled. He hadn't planned on being seen today.
But the moment Theron's eyes landed on him, Kael knew what was coming.
---
"Instructor," Theron said, his voice smooth and sharp, "I'd like to challenge him."
He didn't look at Kael. He said it like choosing a game piece.
Kael blinked once.
Instructor Draeven hesitated. "He's not registered for this round."
Theron smirked. "Surely we can make an exception for House Varelan's heir?"
The crowd chuckled — not at the joke, but at the power behind it.
"Let him fight," came another voice — Jerris, Theron's right-hand. "We all want to see what he's hiding."
Kael said nothing.
His body was still aching, but not weak. The power beneath his skin had grown quieter since the trial — not asleep, but waiting.
Like him.
---
Naya stood near the edge of the group, her brows drawn. Celaine whispered something beside her, but she didn't hear.
She wasn't sure what she wanted to see.
But something in her gut twisted when she looked at Kael's calm face.
---
Draeven sighed and waved his hand. "Very well. Kael versus Theron. No killing blows."
The circle cleared.
Theron stepped in first, loosening his shoulders with a lazy roll. He drew a slender blade — elegant, encrusted with a rune near the hilt. Expensive steel.
Kael stepped in opposite, unarmed.
The murmurs returned. "No sword?"
"Is he insane?"
"Maybe he doesn't even know how to use one—"
"Begin!" Draeven barked.
---
Theron moved like fire — quick, showy, precise. His strikes were wide but controlled, testing Kael's movement. He didn't want to win fast. He wanted to dominate visibly.
Kael dodged.
Not with speed, but instinct — like he'd danced this dance before. He pivoted, turned, sidestepped, his body light and reactive.
The crowd started to murmur again, this time with confusion.
Theron frowned. His blade came faster — a shallow slice meant for Kael's shoulder.
Kael ducked, then twisted in low, sweeping Theron's leg just enough to stagger him.
Laughter. Someone clapped.
Theron's face turned red.
Now he struck with anger.
---
This time, Kael felt it — the brush of steel across his ribs, barely avoided. He stumbled once, and the blade clipped his side.
A trickle of blood ran down.
Theron grinned. "Bleeding already? I expected more."
Kael stood still. The pain was real, but… dull. Like it barely mattered.
Then he looked up.
Just once.
And Theron faltered.
Kael's gaze was like ice — not cold, but ancient. It wasn't arrogance. It was restraint. Something more dangerous than rage.
Theron lunged — and Kael moved.
Not wildly. Not magically.
Just fast. Too fast.
His foot hit Theron's gut, knocking the boy back hard enough to skid across the dirt.
The crowd gasped.
Draeven raised a hand. "Match ends."
Theron coughed, red-faced and furious, as Kael walked calmly out of the ring.
---
But the damage was already done.
A noble heir had been made to look like a fool. And by someone who wasn't even using a weapon.
Not everyone clapped. Not everyone was pleased.
In the shadows behind the training hall, two students watched Kael go.
"He's dangerous," one whispered.
"No," the other replied. "He's just getting started."
---
Later that night…
Kael sat alone in the old library once more, fingers brushing across the ancient symbols he'd copied from the cave walls. There was something familiar about the one he'd seen burned into the beast's lair.
Something that called to him.
He stared long into the candlelight, a single word ringing in his ears:
Devourer.
He didn't know what it meant yet.
But the name was waking up inside him.