The training hall buzzed with excitement the moment Ember Valeflare stepped forward, flames curling around the edge of her sword like a living creature. Her fiery red eyes narrowed at the two brothers.

  “You two—prove you belong in the Elite Division,” she said sharply. “I won’t fight alongside weak men.”

  Lyra’s ears flattened. “Wow, someone woke up spicy.”

  Seraphine sighed. “Ember… we just formed the team.”

  Ember ignored them. Her boots cracked against the stone as she pointed her sword at Nexael and Elyon.

  “I will become commander of the Valtarian forces one day. When war comes, I’ll be leading our armies. And I refuse to have deadweight on my team.”

  Elyon stepped forward—calm, collected, unshaken.

  “No. I’m not interested in pointless duels.”

  Ember shoved him aside. “Exactly what a coward would say.”

  He didn't respond. He simply turned and walked away.

  That left Nexael.

  He stretched lazily, grin wide.

  “Alright, I’ll do it.”

  Elyon shot him a warning look.

  “Nexael—”

  Nexael winked.

  “Come on. Someone has to teach her a lesson.”

  Ember smirked. “Then prepare to lose.”

  “And to make this fun,” Nexael added, stepping forward with hands empty, “I won’t use a weapon. Or magic. Just me.”

  Gasps erupted around the hall. Ember laughed like she couldn’t believe her luck.

  “You’re foolish.”

  “Probably,” Nexael said cheerfully. “Let’s begin.”

  Ember struck first, sword blazing with heat.

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  She wasn’t holding back lightly—this was 85% of her power, strong enough to crush most Elite students.

  But Nexael blocked her attack with a bare hand, spinning away effortlessly.

  However—he made sure to look like it took effort.

  He narrowed his eyes, adjusted his stance, exhaled sharply… all acting.

  To Ember, it appeared he was barely keeping up.

  To the crowd, the match was equal.

  Only Elyon knew Nexael was pretending.

  Inside, Nexael was laughing.

  This is nothing, he thought. I could do this all day.

  Ember believed she had the advantage.

  She increased her speed, flames burning brighter, sweat rolling down her forehead.

  Nexael copied her intensity perfectly—matching her movement, mimicking her strain, creating the illusion that their powers were close.

  The longer the battle lasted, the more Ember pushed herself.

  From 85%… to 90%…

  Almost all her strength.

  Her footwork grew sharp, desperate.

  Her sword began leaving trails of heat across the arena.

  Still—she could not overpower Nexael.

  But Nexael made sure she didn’t realize it.

  He let her strikes almost land.

  He stumbled on purpose.

  He gritted his teeth at fake pressure.

  To everyone else, it looked like:

  Two warriors fighting evenly.

  Students gathered. Instructors paused their lessons.

  Even high-ranking guards watched.

  By evening, both Ember and Nexael were sweating, panting, exhausted.

  Ember’s flames flickered weakly.

  Nexael wiped fake sweat from his brow.

  She raised her sword one last time…

  Then slowly lowered it.

  “…Call it a draw?”

  Nexael stretched his arms. “Yeah. A draw.”

  Cheers erupted around them.

  To the crowd, Ember had fought a monster.

  To Ember, she believed she could beat him if she pushed just a little harder next time.

  To Nexael and Elyon?

  It wasn’t even a warm-up.

  Lyra bounced on her toes.

  “That was amazing! Nexael, you’re crazy strong!”

  Nexael laughed. “Eh, I tried.”

  Elyon gave him a sharp look.

  “You didn’t try. And you know it.”

  Nexael grinned but stayed quiet.

  Seraphine stood still, staff trembling slightly in her hand.

  Her expression was unreadable.

  She had studied ancient prophecies.

  A child born of shadow…

  A child born of light…

  Born in the same era, sharing the same bloodline bond.

  Together they could bring salvation… or ruin.

  No one knew which path was true.

  Some texts warned of catastrophic destruction—

  a heart unable to hold opposing forces would collapse into madness.

  Other writings suggested unity between Light and Darkness could bring a new era of peace.

  Seraphine didn’t know which version to believe.

  But after watching Nexael:

  His impossible stamina.

  His unnatural control.

  The way he concealed power effortlessly…

  She felt a chill.

  Could these brothers be the ones from the prophecy?

  She shook her head.

  It was only one match.

  Only one hint.

  Not nearly enough to be certain.

  But the fear—and the hope—stayed quietly in her heart.

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