Chapter 10: The Duel That Wasn’t Meant to Happen
The courtyard behind the main tower was buzzing with noise.
Students lounged on marble benches, clustered beneath shade-giving trees or around the practice dummies in the training circle. The air was filled with chatter, laughter, and bursts of mana flickering from casual spell practice.
Noel had just stepped out from the main hallway when he heard his name.
Loud.
Too loud to be coincidence.
"—so it's true, then? They actually let that guy into Class A?"
A few heads turned. A small group of students had gathered near the center path, their eyes locked on a tall boy standing with arms folded, voice sharp and smug.
Callen Draive.
Son of House Draive—a lesser noble house with a big ego. Black uniform worn a little too perfectly. Sword on his hip. Blond hair slicked back. And a smile that begged to be punched.
"I mean, everyone knows House Thorne fell off," Callen continued, loud enough to carry. "But putting someone like him here? What did you do, Thorne? Beg? Buy someone off?"
Noel didn't even break stride.