Chapter 10 — The Duel: First Clash
---
The Spiral Duel Arena loomed before him.
Massive floating discs spiraled upward, glowing softly in the early morning light.
Magical stabilizers hummed beneath the platforms, holding them steady against the soft winds.
---
Students gathered around the edge of the platform stands.
Excitement buzzed quietly through the air.
---
> First public duel for the 'Aurelius orphan.'
> They hunger for spectacle.
---
Cyrus stood at the platform's center.
The arena floor beneath him was smooth obsidian — etched with faint, ancient runes that pulsed softly.
---
Across from him stood his opponent — Alric Dorne.
Tall, broad-shouldered.
Sharp eyes filled with arrogance.
Wearing the dark crimson robe of House Dorne.
A minor house, but with strong backing from House Valerius.
---
Alric cracked his neck and flexed his fingers, glowing with faint orange energy.
"I expected you to refuse, Aurelius."
His voice echoed faintly.
---
Cyrus remained still.
His eyes half-lidded.
Breathing calm.
---
"You chose poorly then," Cyrus replied softly.
---
The duel moderator, a faculty mage robed in deep green, raised his hand.
"As per Galactus Code, first blood decides victor. Begin when ready."
---
Silence settled.
Then—
"BEGIN!"
---
Alric moved first.
---
He surged forward like a bull, the ground beneath him cracking slightly under the force of his launch.
Fire burst along his arms — Molten Strike — a common but deadly close-combat enhancement.
---
Cyrus didn't flinch.
> Predictable.
---
He shifted his stance just half a step.
His right foot slid subtly across the rune-carved floor.
His center of gravity lowered — perfect timing.
---
As Alric's fiery punch flew toward his head, Cyrus rotated slightly—
letting the strike brush past his left shoulder with mere inches to spare.
The heat singed his coat sleeve, but missed flesh entirely.
---
WHOOOSH—!
The crowd gasped at the near miss.
---
Without pausing, Alric spun into a follow-up elbow strike aimed at Cyrus's ribs.
---
Cyrus anticipated.
He stepped into the strike, not away.
---
His forearm came up —
precisely at the last second —
catching the inside of Alric's elbow, redirecting the force sideways.
---
> Leverage. Timing. Flow.
---
Alric stumbled half a step, thrown off-balance by the unexpected counter-pressure.
Cyrus used that moment.
---
His palm struck forward, directly into Alric's exposed chest.
---
BOOM—
A focused shock traveled into Alric's body — not brute force, but a perfect application of center-line energy.
Alric staggered backwards, breath knocked out for a second.
---
The students murmured.
"He's fast…"
"How is he matching magic with no powers?"
---
Alric's face flushed in anger.
---
"ENOUGH!"
He slammed his palms together, summoning swirling molten orbs around him.
"Let's see you dodge THIS!"
---
Three flaming orbs shot forward like guided missiles.
---
Cyrus's eyes narrowed.
> Burn pattern. Fast, but imperfect.
---
Instead of running, he shifted his weight, spinning slightly —
his coat swirling behind him as the first orb grazed past.
---
BOOM—!
It exploded behind him in a burst of heat.
---
He ducked under the second orb, letting it fly over his head—
The final orb veered sharply, attempting to correct.
---
> Too late.
---
Cyrus threw a small metal shard — pulled from his inner pocket — directly into the orb's core.
---
PING—!
The orb destabilized mid-air, losing form—
BOOM—!
Another controlled burst safely away from him.
---
The audience roared.
Even some of the instructors leaned forward slightly.
---
Alric snarled.
---
"You fight like a coward!"
---
Cyrus finally moved fully forward.
His steps were deliberate, like a predator approaching calmly.
"I fight to survive."
---
Alric raised both hands, channeling a larger molten vortex.
> Desperation move.
Over-charging magic to compensate for lack of control.
---
The swirling mass above Alric pulsed dangerously.
If left unchecked, the blast radius could even reach audience platforms.
---
Cyrus's eyes cooled.
> Now you overextended.
---
As the vortex formed, Cyrus dashed —
perfect timing, perfect angle.
---
His foot landed directly on one of the minor rune points carved into the obsidian floor.
A stabilizing node used for arena balance.
---
With a twist of his ankle and momentum, he used the minor gravity fluctuations to sling himself forward—
faster than Alric expected.
---
CRACK—!
His palm struck Alric's wrist, breaking the casting posture.
The molten vortex wobbled dangerously.
---
Cyrus grabbed Alric's robe collar and pulled him forward off-balance—
In one smooth rotation, Cyrus slammed his knee into Alric's solar plexus.
---
THUMP—!
The breath fled from Alric's lungs.
---
The molten spell collapsed into harmless sparks, dispersing into the wind.
---
Alric dropped to one knee, coughing heavily.
His hand reached up to signal surrender.
---
The moderator raised his hand.
"First blood— Cyrus Aurelius is victorious."
---
The arena exploded with mixed reactions.
Some clapped.
Some whispered.
Others stared in quiet shock.
---
Cyrus stood still, breathing softly, his pulse calm.
> Observe. Adapt. Neutralize.
This... is how I survive.
---
As he walked off the platform, whispers followed him again:
"How is he so skilled without magic?"
"That precision... terrifying."
"He's dangerous."
---
From the shadows above, hidden among the upper spectator balcony — Adrien watched, smiling faintly.
"As expected..."
He whispered to himself.
---
End of Chapter 10