Chapter 73: The Return
The sky above the academy pulsed with shades of deep amethyst and bruised lilac, painted in colors that whispered of Aether storms long faded. Beneath that purple canopy, the coliseum stirred with life.
A broad circular field of pale crystal stretched at the center—flawless, gleaming, and cold. Intricate lines etched into its surface pulsed faintly with Aether, reacting to the tension that always preceded a duel. The platform was surrounded by sleek, soft seats arranged in high tiers, each one cushioned and enchanted for comfort, embedded in the crystal walls with impossible grace.
Nearly the entire academy had gathered.
They lounged in floating rows of gold and silver, gossiping behind hands, pointing down at the arena, making silent bets with gleaming coin slips that represented the academy credits. Some laughed. Others whispered. Everyone watched.
From one end of the arena, a boy stood motionless beneath the purple sky.
His hair was red—not the dull copper of rust, but the sharp, vibrant hue of burning embers—and it curled slightly at the edges like a flame losing patience. His eyes were the same shade, blood-red and glowing faintly, but void of passion. His expression was bored, as if he’d been dragged out of bed for this and hadn’t quite forgiven anyone yet.
Earl Demios.
One of the child of the crownkin of Demios, the audience’s favorite to win.
He flexed one hand, lazy, absent. The other stayed at his side, fingers drumming against his hip like he was keeping rhythm with a song no one else could hear.
Off to the side, lounging across two seats she had clearly claimed as her own, sat a girl with murky yellow hair that clung to her shoulders in untamed strands. She held a thin stick in one hand, lazily picking at her fingernails with its tip. Every so often, she’d glance at the field with a crooked smirk, then go back to grooming herself like a bored cat.
Vida Vermilion.