Senior Wing Corridor – Sol-Regis Academy. Lunch Break.
The corridor hummed with the arrogance of noble scions, their shimmering silk robes and gem-encrusted staves on full display. The cloying scent of expensive perfumes mingled with the hushed, frantic rumors regarding the upcoming mid-term exams.
Amidst the throng, Sir Roland was conducting his own brand of "Intelligence Operations." He leaned nonchalantly against a polished wooden locker, surrounded by three girls from the Literature Department who looked utterly spellbound. Roland twirled a small pocket mirror—the flagship product of Rumina's factory—between his nimble fingers.
"Observe," Roland said, his voice a smooth, captivating baritone. He angled the glass toward one of the girls. "Common market mirrors are often clouded and deceptive. But this Sudrath Glass... it is honest. It reflects your beauty exactly as it is—flawless."
The girl flushed, her cheeks blooming a soft pink. "Oh, Sir Roland... you have such a way with words. What price do you ask for such a beautiful thing?"
"For you? It is a gift," Roland offered with a wink. "Provided you're willing to share a little story... perhaps about the private gala Valerian Morvath is hosting this weekend?"
"Oh, Valerian's party?" she whispered, leaning in closer. "It's incredibly exclusive! Only the inner circle of the Student Council is invited..."
Bingo. Intel secured.
Suddenly, a heavy hand slammed into the locker door right beside Roland's head. Whack! Roland turned slowly, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his blazer's shoulder. Towering over him were three hulking seniors, still clad in their sweat-stained training plate. Leading them was Gareth, notorious for being Valerian's right-hand enforcer.
"Hey, Newbie," Gareth snarled, his breath reeking of stale ale. "What do you think you're doing, sniffing around my girl?"
The girls scattered in terror. "Gareth! Stop it!"
Roland straightened his posture, adjusting his slightly crooked navy collar. His face remained a mask of calm, though he shifted his stance subtly. "Easy there, friend. I was just offering a mirror. The lady approached me first, you know."
"Selling trash?" Gareth let out a mocking laugh, his voice gravelly. "Trust a Northern peasant to enter the Academy just to become a street peddler."
Gareth shoved Roland hard in the chest. Roland stumbled back a step, bracing himself to keep his balance.
"Listen, Northern scum," Gareth leaned in, the veins in his neck bulging. "There's a hierarchy here. Valerian is King. I am his shield. And you? You're just the filth stuck to the bottom of my boot. Stay away from my girl, or I'll snap those dainty hands of yours."
Roland's lips curled into a smirk—a diplomat's smile, dripping with condescension. "You know, Gareth? I actually pity you."
"What?!"
"You're proud to call yourself a 'shield'? Honestly, that's just a polite way of saying 'watchdog'," Roland said sharply, his eyes locking onto Gareth's. "Valerian doesn't even see you as a friend, does he? You're just expendable muscle to be tossed aside when the job is done."
Gareth's face went a violent shade of crimson. Roland had hit a raw nerve. "DIE!"
Gareth unleashed a right hook shrouded in the faint glow of Reinforcement magic. Roland squeezed his eyes shut for a fleeting second. I'm dead, he thought.
GRAB.
The pain never came. Roland opened his eyes to find a slender but iron-strong hand had caught Gareth's massive fist mere inches from his nose.
Lady Rhea.
Rhea stood there with a casual air, yet her aura was suffocatingly intimidating. She stared at Gareth with eyes as cold as a tundra. "Hey, Gorilla," Rhea greeted flatly. "Pick on someone your own size. My brother is in the Politics Department, not the boxing ring."
Gareth tried to wrench his hand away, but Rhea's grip was like a steel vise, locking him in place. "Let go! Who the hell are you?!"
"His sister," Rhea replied curtly. She then twisted Gareth's wrist with a sudden, violent snap.
CRACK.
The sound of shifting joints echoed sickeningly. Gareth shrieked, dropping to his knees on the stone floor.
"Listen closely," Rhea said, her gaze sweeping over Gareth and his two stunned lackeys. "If you lay a single finger on my brother again... I'll make sure you graduate from this place in a wheelchair."
Rhea released Gareth's hand, which was already beginning to swell. The big man whimpered, clutching his wrist. Rhea glanced at Roland, her voice softening for a heartbeat. "You alright, Roland?"
Roland nodded, wiping a bead of sweat from his temple. "Fine, Sister. Your timing is impeccable, as always."
Suddenly, slow applause drifted from the far end of the corridor. Clap. Clap. Clap. The crowd of students parted instinctively.
Valerian Morvath approached. He was strikingly handsome, his features symmetrical and cold, his silver hair shimmering under the crystal chandeliers. "Fascinating," Valerian remarked. "So this is the 'Wild Woman' who reportedly left Prince Cedric heartbroken?"
Valerian stopped directly in front of Rhea. "You possess impressive skills, Lady Sudrath. It's a pity you chose to stand on the wrong side of history."
"I don't take sides," Rhea retorted with a stiff, formal tone. "I just don't like trash blocking my path."
Valerian let out a soft laugh—elegant, yet hollow. "Gareth is trash. Thank you for teaching him a lesson."
He then glanced at Roland. "However, assaulting a member of the Student Council is a grave offense here. Unless..." Valerian pulled a gold emblem from beneath his cloak. "...unless we settle this according to Academy tradition. An Official Duel."
Valerian locked eyes with Rhea, his gaze a challenge. "Tomorrow at noon. The Grand Arena. If you win, I will overlook today's incident... and I will grant you one favor. But if I win... you both become my servants until graduation day."
Rhea stared at the emblem, then glanced at Roland. Roland gave a sharp, resolute nod. Rhea let out a predatory grin. "Fine. Just make sure you have the best healers on standby for yourself, Lord Morvath."
Student Dormitories – Sudrath Residence (VIP Suite). Late Afternoon.
"Are you serious, Rhea?!" Roland paced the room frantically. "Valerian has been the undefeated duel champion for three consecutive years! He uses an A-Rank magic blade!"
Rhea remained composed, sitting on the edge of the bed while cleaning her rapier with a soft cloth. Scrape. Scrape. "So? I was a gold medalist, Roland. My technique isn't just for show."
"This isn't a sports tournament! This is another world! He can literally shoot fire from the tip of his sword!" Roland was borderline panicked.
The door swung open. Rianor and Elara stepped in. "I've already heard the news," Rianor said calmly, adjusting his spectacles. "Tomorrow's duel is already the headline of the school paper."
"Are you sure you can win, Rhea?" Rianor asked seriously.
"In terms of pure technique? I'd win by a mile," Rhea analyzed. "But if he uses those cheap magic tricks... that's where the problem lies."
Elara placed a small silver bracelet on the wooden table. "Wear this. A Nullifier Bracelet. Its function is to disrupt mana circuits in close proximity. If Valerian tries to unleash fire as his blade nears your body, the spell will fizzle out completely."
Elara caught Rhea's hand as she reached for the bracelet, her expression turning grave. "But listen to me carefully, Rhea. This is a failed prototype. Its mana circuit is unstable. It can only withstand one high-tier magical assault. Once its capacity is breached, it will overheat and explode."
Elara looked deep into Rhea's eyes. "So don't just use it to parry minor sparks. Save it for the final, crucial moment. If you use it too early, the bracelet will shatter, and you'll end up as a burnt kabob for the rest of the match."
Rhea slipped the bracelet on, feeling the cold silver against her skin. "Cheating against cheating. I like your style."
"One more thing," Rianor added with his signature smirk. "I've placed a massive bet with the school bookie. I've put a thousand gold coins on Rhea's victory."
"Tch. You're using my life as gambling fodder?" Rhea glared at him.
"The money is for our telegraph parts, Sister," Rianor grinned shamelessly. "So, losing is forbidden by law. The family's entire economy is on your shoulders tomorrow."
Rhea let out a long breath, then stood tall, thrusting her rapier into the air. "Fine. Just watch me. I'm going to teach that noble brat some goddamn manners."