Blood and Authority

The soft tap of polished boots echoed against the obsidian floor.

Viella D'Arceon descended from Solaria's ranks, clad in a black mantle laced with silver and long gloves that reached past her elbows.

Her movement was calm, deliberate the stride of someone who already knew how this would end.

All eyes followed her.

She was the daughter of one of the Empire's most powerful noble houses.

And one of the rare few who stood without needing a man's shadow behind her.

Across the arena stood Thorne Helbrecht, son of an eastern border captain.

Broad-shouldered, quiet, wielding a two handed axe that looked more fit for war than a duel.

He nodded once respectful, but not submissive.

Magister Rusk raised his staff.

"Begin."

Thorne advanced first.

His movements were unrefined brute force, no pretense.

Viella remained still.

The air shifted around her colder, damp.

She raised her hand. From the obsidian beneath her feet, a pale mist rose, curling like silver fog.

Illusion magic?

Thorne swung. The mist parted no body.

Viella stood behind him, a thin blade in her hand, not cutting but brushing against the side of his neck.

"Too slow," she whispered.

Thorne spun, catching the next strike. Steel met steel with a sharp crack.

He fought harder now angrier.

Viella did not retreat.

She danced forward, blade slicing through air with deadly elegance.

No hesitation. No fear. No wasted movement.

She wasn't a caster hiding behind spells.

She was the storm walking into the heart of the fight.

Thorne tried to force close-range a mistake.

She stepped in.

A sharp knee to his ribs.

Then her blade precise, surgical slid into his shoulder.

Blood. Not fatal. But decisive.

"You are strong," she said quietly.

"But strength without thought is a beast waiting to die."

He roared, charging one last time but his arm shook. His breath hitched. He dropped to one knee, pain overtaking will.

Magister Rusk raised his staff.

"Enough.

Victor: Viella D'Arceon."

Viella turned her head slightly.

Not proud.

Not smug.

Only as if she had brushed dust from her shoes.