The ultimate one of Gaia

"Okay, this is striking," Martin muttered to himself as he inked the edge of a mana circle in his notebook. The lines pulsed faintly, taking shape in the margin beside a series of complex equations related to combustion compression in sealed glyph-chambers.

Then the book was snatched from his hands.

Martin looked up slowly, already annoyed.

Three students stood before him, a little too well-groomed, their Varncrest uniforms tailored with that crisp arrogance only nobles carried. One of them—tall, with a jawline carved for smugness—thumbed through Martin's notebook like it was a peasant's journal.

"You know," the one in the center drawled, "for someone so 'famous,' your notes are surprisingly primitive."

Martin leaned back on the bench, legs crossed, blinking once. "And for someone so irrelevant, your voice is impressively grating. Now, give that back."

The noble's smirk twitched, not expecting pushback so soon.

"I'm Gareth of House Albrecht," he said grandly. "My family sponsors a quarter of Varncrest's shielding towers. Without us, this academy would've been vaporized a dozen times over."

Martin nodded solemnly. "Congratulations. You must be the heir to the world's most expensive umbrella. Now, give my notebook back."

Gareth scowled, but tried to recover. "And these," he gestured to the two flanking him, "are Lady Kyliss of Norsen and Sir Dentra of Pelk."

"We're representatives of the—" Kyliss began, her voice dipped in diplomatic polish.

"I don't care," Martin interrupted, eyes still flat. "Give. Back. The notebook."

"Watch your tongue, worm," Dentra snapped, stepping forward.

"Why?" Martin said, his voice softening into something far more dangerous. "Do you think you can cut it off?"

There was a moment of stillness. The nobles tensed slightly, sensing something slip beneath the calm.

Martin stood and stepped forward, gaze unfaltering.

"You're all so used to status shielding you from consequence," he continued. "You see someone without your family name, without funding or fanfare, and it bothers you that I'm doing more than survive. That I'm thriving."

"You act like rules don't apply to you," Kyliss said sharply.

"They don't," Martin said flatly. "Rules exist to protect those too weak to shape the world without them."

Gareth sneered. "Then why are you afraid of us reading this?" He held up the notebook like a prize.

"I'm not afraid." Martin raised a hand casually.

The notebook flared with violet glyph-light, levitating out of Gareth's hands before slamming neatly into Martin's palm.

"I just don't like wasting time on weaklings."

Kyliss' lips curved into a smile just a touch too sharp. "And yet here we are. Three 'weaklings' standing before you, and not one of us bleeding."

"Oh, don't misunderstand," Martin said, slipping the notebook under his arm. "It's not that you're brave. It's that I'm busy. But if you're feeling left out, I can make time."

A pulse of mana flared at his hip. Each noble's handbook vibrated softly as a message was burned into their duel registry.

Sanctioned Challenge: 1v3. No restrictions. No disqualifications for critical or crippling damage. Time and location at challenged party's discretion.

"No pretense, no politics," Martin said smoothly. "You want to see if the rumors are true? Accept the duel. Let's skip the foreplay."

Dentra smirked. "I like beating arrogance while it's still fresh." He tapped his handbook, accepting the duel.

Kyliss followed a second later, her eyes never leaving Martin's face.

Gareth hesitated.

The growing crowd, however, didn't.

Whispers were already passing through the courtyard like wind over dry leaves. Several students pulled out scry-globes, others recorded the challenge through mana mirrors. One of the Independent student forums was already live-streaming it under the caption:

"MARTIN KAISER VS THREE NOBLES — BLOOD OR GLORY?"

With a disgusted sneer, Gareth finally tapped his handbook.

Challenge accepted.

Later that afternoon...

Roen was crouched on the floor outside the medical annex, bandaged like a training dummy and munching morosely on a skewered mana-fruit.

"Belisarius beat you again," Martin remarked as he landed lightly beside him.

"Shut up," Roen grumbled, gnawing on the fruit. "That man is a monster. His sword weighs as much as I do and moves like a hummingbird. What brings you down to the loser's lounge? Trouble?"

"Not yet," Martin said. "But it's scheduling itself."

Roen chuckled weakly before the weight of the day returned. "I heard about the nobles."

"This place leaks faster than a stitched golem with stage fright," Martin muttered.

"They cornered you?"

"Tried to. Took my notes, tried to poke the beast. So I gave them an invite."

Roen raised an eyebrow. "You challenged all three of them? At once?"

"They made it easy."

"You know they'll try something dirty, right?"

"I hope they do," Martin said with a grin. "If they try to play clean, it'll be boring."

Roen sighed. "So what's your strategy?"

"I don't need a strategy. I need an example."

Roen tilted his head. "Of what?"

"Of what happens when you challenge the system and lose. These three nobles are walking structure. Entitlement. Predictable responses." Martin looked down at his notebook, tapping the cover thoughtfully. "I need to remind the academy that bloodline and bankroll don't mean much if your bones can still be broken."

Roen grunted, leaning back. "You know, one day someone's gonna bring a whole house down on you."

"They can try," Martin said. "But houses burn."

Elsewhere, inside the administrative building…

Letra Marlo sat beside a floating interface of data, her eyes scanning dueling logs, political charts, and reports on recent incidents. Across from her, Prince Cordovan sipped a chalice of something orange and sparkling.

"He's making waves again," she said without emotion.

"Martin Kaiser?" Cordovan asked. "I like him. Sharp tongue. Explosive aftertaste."

"He's a destabilizing element."

"That's why he's here." Cordovan grinned. "You don't break stagnation with policy—you drop wolves into the sheepfold and see what survives."

Letra didn't respond.

Outside, the dueling schedule had already updated.

Martin Kaiser vs. Albrecht-Norsen-Pelk. Three-on-one.

Location: Arena Delta. Time: Sundown.