Chapter 250: Challenged!

The trio had sat there and watched for quite a while, until the sun dipped low enough that the arena’s wards began to glow faintly against the darkening sky.

By then, the lesson had been made painfully clear.Ranks were no longer protection, they were targets for newer students to challenge.

Albedo leaned against the railing as another match concluded below, the defeated upperclassman sitting in stunned silence while a healer inspected him. The victor, a transfer with pale gold markings running along her arms, stood untouched, barely winded.

The crowd buzzed, excitement and anxiety intermingling like unstable reagents.

“This is the third confirmed displacement today,” Elara murmured, quietly tallying results in her notebook. Her Battle Map continued to adjust, redrawing power hierarchies in real time. “And that’s just the public matches.”

Morgana exhaled softly. “Then the private challenges must be worse.”

“Of course they are,” Albedo replied. “Anyone confident enough to challenge in private doesn’t want witnesses.”

Elara glanced between them. “Doesn’t that worry you?”

Morgana shook her head once. “No.”

Albedo smiled faintly. “If anything, it simplifies things.”

They watched one final bout, an upperclassman narrowly retaining his rank through sheer experience rather than raw power, before the announcer declared a recess. Slowly, reluctantly, the stands began to empty.

The Academy felt different as they left the arena.

The pathways between spires were crowded with murmured conversations and sidelong glances. Some students avoided eye contact entirely. Others watched Albedo and Morgana openly now, curiosity sharpened into appraisal.

Predators evaluating other predators.

Elara adjusted the strap of her bag. “They’re looking at you differently.”

Albedo hummed. “They always do.”

“No,” she said softly. “This time it’s… deliberate.”

Morgana’s gaze flicked briefly across a cluster of unfamiliar students lingering near a statue of the Academy’s founder. Their mana was quiet—too quiet—but coiled tight beneath the surface.

“They’re deciding who to climb,” Morgana said.

“And who to step on,” Elara added.

Albedo stopped walking.

Both girls halted instinctively.

“…Speaking of,” he said mildly.

He lifted his wrist.

The Academy-issued watch there pulsed once—then again.

A translucent projection bloomed above it.

Ranking Challenge Issued

Challenger:

Caelum Rivenhart

Affiliation: Rivenhart Ancient Line

Scheduled: Tomorrow, 14:00

Arena: Assigned

Elara’s eyes widened. “Already?”

Before Albedo could reply, Morgana’s watch chimed.

Once.

Then twice.

Her projection unfolded more slowly, darker in hue.

Ranking Challenge Issued

Challenger: Nox Ashen

Affiliation: Ashen Hidden Family

Scheduled: Tomorrow, 16:00

Arena: Assigned

For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause.

Then Elara laughed, short, incredulous. “They didn’t waste any time.”

Morgana studied the projection with a cool, unreadable expression. “Aurelion…” she murmured. “So they’ve decided subtlety is optional.”

Albedo tilted his head. “You know them?”

“By reputation,” Morgana replied. “They don’t issue challenges unless they’re confident of winning.”

Elara’s smile faded slightly. “Are you worried?”

Morgana finally looked at her.

“No.”

Albedo’s lips curved upward, something sharp and pleased glinting in his eyes. “Same.”

He dismissed the projection with a flick of his wrist. “Looks like tomorrow just got interesting.”

Elara hesitated. “You’re… excited.”

“Of course I am,” Albedo said easily. “I’ve been hearing about these Heirs to Ancient and Hidden Clans for weeks now.”

He started walking again, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed.

“Seems rude not to see what all the fuss is about.”

Morgana fell into step beside him, dark mana stirring faintly, like a creature stretching in its sleep. “Just don’t complain if they disappoint you.”

Albedo chuckled. “If they do, that’s on them.”

They passed beneath one of the Academy’s higher arches, wards humming softly overhead.

Around them, whispers followed in their wake and the next day arrived quickly.

The dueling arena assigned for Albedo’s ranking battle was one of the High-Tier Rings, a massive circular platform suspended between four spires, reinforced with layered suppression arrays and abyss-resistant wards.

The stands were already filling when Albedo arrived. Students from every year group sat in quiet clusters, their conversations hushed, eyes sharp, attention focused. Word had spread quickly.

Rank #1 was being challenged.

Albedo stepped onto the platform with his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed, expression calm.

“That’s him…”

“Confident as ever, I think he’ll win,”

“No way, Albedo’s strong, but all these new guys are crazy,”

Albedo ignored it all. Across the arena, a portal of pale silver light unfolded.

His opponent arrived.

Caelum Rivenhart.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Ash-blond hair tied back with a metallic clasp bearing the sigil of the Rivenhart Ancient Line, a coiled dragon wrapped around a star. His uniform wasn’t Academy standard; it was custom-forged battle attire, layered with ancestral runes and high-grade reinforcement enchantments.

His mana was dense and refined. The kind of power that came from generations of cultivation techniques, bloodline optimization, and inherited resources.

He looked every bit the Heir of an Ancient Clan.

Caelum’s eyes locked onto Albedo immediately with contempt.

He walked forward to the center of the arena, boots striking the stone with deliberate force, presence expanding as he released his aura.

Several weaker students in the stands flinched instinctively.

Caelum smiled.

A slow, superior smile.

“So,” he said, voice carrying easily across the arena, amplified by mana. “You’re Albedo Neverwinter.”

Albedo stopped a few meters away from him. “And you are?”

Caelum’s smile sharpened. “The one taking your rank.”

A ripple went through the stands.

Caelum raised his chin slightly. “Rank #1 doesn’t belong to a nobody. It belongs to bloodlines that built this world.”

His eyes dragged over Albedo, openly disdainful.

“You’re just a commoner who got lucky. You didn’t learn your place,” Caelum continued coldly. “So I’ll teach it to you. Today.”

Silence fell over the arena. Even the professors along the perimeter stiffened slightly. Albedo stared at him for two full seconds.

Then laughed. Just a soft, incredulous chuckle.

“…Wow,” he said. “They still teach that garbage?”

Caelum’s expression darkened. “What?”

Albedo tilted his head, eyes calm, unimpressed.

“Bloodline supremacy. Class hierarchy. ’Ancient family’ nonsense.” He shrugged. “In a place like Zephyr Academy, that mindset is almost embarrassing.”

His gaze hardened slightly.

“You’re standing in a school that was built to break that exact ideology.”

Caelum sneered. “Spoken like someone who doesn’t belong to anything.”

Albedo’s eyes glinted faintly.

“No,” he corrected calmly. “Spoken like someone who doesn’t need to.”

“You came here to prove you’re superior because of your name,” Albedo said. “Because of your blood. Because of your family.”

He took one step forward.

The arena wards flared subtly.

“I don’t care about any of that. I care about strength.”

He looked Caelum directly in the eyes.

“So here’s what’s going to happen.”

A faint glow began to form in Albedo’s pupils.

“Today, I’m going to beat you.”

“Not because I’m Rank #1.”

“Not because I’m special.”

“Not because of my Gift.”

“But because you’re weak in the only way that matters.”

Caelum’s aura flared violently. “Careful, commoner—”

Albedo interrupted him.

“Because you think your name makes you powerful.”

Silence.

Then Albedo smiled.

“And I’m going to teach you something your entire bloodline failed to.”

He lifted his hand.

Havoc and Ruin materialized in a soft hum of mana.

“You don’t inherit dominance.”

“You earn it.”

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