Chapter 80: Chapter 80 : The fairy twins.

The sun bathed the Zenith Academy training grounds in a warm glow as two classes gathered around the central dueling platform—Class 1-A and Class 1-B seated together, eager to witness the next showcase.

A hush of anticipation rolled through the crowd, then broke into loud cheers—especially from the girls—as Thalor Sylven Eveglade, the Fairy Prince of Class 1-A, stepped gracefully onto the dueling platform.

With lustrous blue hair, piercing yellow eyes, and an ethereal glow that clung to his tall, broad-shouldered frame, Thalor moved like the breeze—elegant yet solid.

His long coat fluttered behind him, wings invisible for now, but power shimmered subtly beneath his skin.

In his hand rested a heavy, rune-inscribed warhammer—an unusual but fitting weapon for the strong, combat-ready fairy.

As a fairy, he possessed the ability to create illusions so realistic they could confuse even trained warriors.

He also had innate healing capabilities that rapidly sealed minor wounds at the cost of stamina.

His wings—currently invisible—could appear at will, granting him the gift of flight.

Whistles and cries erupted from the stands.

“Go, Thalor! Show them what you got!”

“He’s so dreamy!”

Across from him, his opponent appeared with calm, silent steps. The crowd’s tone shifted into gasps of recognition as Luke Grave—the calm and dangerous second-year student from Class 2-A—walked onto the stage.

With short brown hair, smoldering amber eyes, and a faint cloak of shadow trailing his movement, Luke exuded quiet menace.

He wore black gloves over lean fingers, and his movements were razor-sharp yet composed, like a predator biding its time. His dual affinities were well-known—Darkness and Earth—and his style mimicked that of an assassin.

The duel overseer raised his hand.

“Next match: Thalor Sylven Eveglade of Class 1-A versus Luke Grave of Class 2-A.”

The rank difference between them was as obvious as night and day.

Thalor was an Advanced (low) rank, and Luke was an Expert (mid) rank.

After witnessing many such duels, everyone was sure who was going to win.

But still, they cheered.

Luke raised a single hand, and the cheers stopped as if everyone’s instinct told them to obey. A sly grin formed on Luke’s face.

“You’re pretty good looking—as expected from the fairy race,” Luke said casually. “But it’s a shame I’m going to humiliate you in front of your fan club.”

Thalor twirled his hammer. “And here I was hoping for a friendly spar.”

“Friendly?” Luke raised an eyebrow. “Alright, I’ll be generous. You get three free hits. After that, I go all in.”

He raised a hand. “Don’t worry—I won’t use my best techniques.”

Thalor’s smile sharpened slightly. “How noble of you.”

Luke chuckled, stepping back slightly. “Oh, I hope you surprise me.”

With a flap of his now-visible glowing wings, Thalor surged forward. He swung his hammer with shocking speed—enhanced by his wind affinity—toward Luke’s chest.

Luke slid back, letting the impact crash into the platform, sending up shards of stone.

Thalor’s wings shimmered, and illusions burst forth—copies of himself appearing around Luke. The crowd gasped.

“Tch. Illusions?” Luke whispered, voice dry. “Fairies and their tricks.”

Thalor’s illusions moved in a coordinated charge as his real self launched a water-enhanced strike, droplets forming sharp arcs with each swing.

But Luke, ever composed, activated umbral dissolution—his body vanishing into darkness, slipping between the illusions and countering with an earth spike that cracked the ground.

“Not bad,” Luke muttered. “I didn’t expect real offense from a fairy prince.”

“Keep talking, senior. It distracts from how slow your strikes are,” Thalor grinned.

Luke’s expression darkened slightly—not with anger, but intrigue.

“Hmm. You used wind for speed, water for flow, and illusions to cover movement. You’re not dumb. But let me show you what precision looks like.”

Luke vanished.

A flicker of shadow—then Thalor stumbled back as three quick slashes of darkness grazed him.

Cuts appeared on his shoulder and thigh. They healed within seconds, sparkling slightly—fairies have higher healing rates than any other race, though it drains their stamina quickly.

“Tch…!” Thalor hissed. “Fast…”

“Lesson one,” Luke’s voice echoed, disembodied. “Don’t rely on flight in close quarters. It just makes you a target in three dimensions.”

Luke appeared behind him—and Thalor barely blocked a knife of compressed earth before retaliating with a wind blade that Luke easily dodged.

Thalor created a wall of water, using the splash to blur vision—only for Luke to punch through with an earth-shrouded fist.

“Darkness isn’t just concealment—it’s pressure,” Luke said. “Feel it.”

Luke surged forward with renewed speed, now using both affinities. Shadows wrapped his arms as his fists became weapons of darkness.

Thalor blocked, struck back, even landed a minor blow—his hammer grazing Luke’s ribs.

Luke stepped back, impressed.

“That one cut,” Luke admitted, backing off. “Not bad. But…”

The ground exploded beneath Thalor as shadow vines laced with earth energy erupted, snaring his legs mid-air.

Luke appeared above him, palm glowing with compacted darkness.

“Lesson two: If you can’t adapt quickly—”

Luke’s palm slammed down.

“You lose.”

A dark shockwave blasted Thalor downward. The platform cracked, and the Fairy Prince lay still, breathing hard, aura dimmed.

The match was over.

The audience murmured. While the winner was clear, many were impressed by Thalor’s resilience.

Luke turned away but paused.

“Not bad, junior. Keep pushing—you’ve got talent.”

Thalor, still lying down, managed a chuckle. “Noted… senior…”

As the duel concluded and Thalor knelt at the edge of the platform, bruised and breathing hard, a blur of green sprinted from the sidelines.

“Thalor!” a voice cried out.

Aurelia Sylven Eveglade—his younger sister—rushed to the platform, her short green hair fluttering behind her and yellow eyes wide with worry.

She knelt beside him without hesitation, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“You’re hurt,” she said, voice trembling.

Thalor managed a faint smile, though his lips were cracked. “I’m fine, Aurelia. It was… enlightening.”

A few of his classmates followed close behind—friends from Class 1-A. One offered him a potion while another cast a minor healing spell.

“You were amazing, Thalor!” one of them exclaimed. “No one expected you to last that long against someone like Luke Grave.”

Aurelia glared at them all, still worried. “Amazing or not, he should rest!”

As Thalor stood with her help, the crowd gave a light round of applause.

As Thalor was walking away from the platform, two figures arrived.

It was Alistar and Alicia.

Professor Alistar gave a small nod of approval from the sidelines.

“Well fought, Thalor,” Alistar said, his voice firm but encouraging. “You held your ground with discipline and poise. That hammer work—solid fundamentals, clever illusions, good judgment.”

Thalor gave a respectful bow. “Thank you, Professor.”

Alicia von Crestvale, standing nearby with her arms crossed, gave a soft chuckle.

“Not bad for a first-year. That was more impressive than half the second-years I’ve seen. You’re calm, focused… a real knightly type.”

Thalor blinked, caught off guard by the compliment.

“Keep training,” Alistar added. “With your temperament and talents, you’ll rise quickly.”

“Understood, sir,” Thalor said with a determined smile.

—

A/N:

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