CHAPTER 9: The Crimson Spark
The secondary training grounds of Aethelgard Academy, situated in the sprawling eastern backyard, were a jagged landscape of reinforced stone pillars and enchanted sandpits.
This was the "Shooters' Range," a domain specifically designed for mid-to-long-range combatants—those who specialized in projectile mana, elemental bursts, and rapid-fire kinetic energy.
The air here was perpetually ionized, smelling of ozone and burnt sulfur. On today's agenda: 1 v 1 Close-Quarters Duel Matchups.
Edna arrived at the edge of the arena with a bounce in her step that made her dark curls dance. Her excitement was a physical thing, manifesting as a wide, brilliant smile that she couldn't suppress even if she tried.
She had been itching to see how the "elite" handled their sparks, but as she slipped through the iron gate, she realized no one had noticed her arrival. The entire curriculum group was gathered in a dense, shouting circle around the primary dueling ring.
A fight was already in its crescendo.
Edna maneuvered through the crowd, her small frame allowing her to weave between the broad-shouldered nobles. She pushed to the front line and stopped, her breath catching in her throat.
In the center of the ring stood a girl who looked like she had been crafted from porcelain and summer rain. She was small, possessing delicate, pointed Elf ears that twitched with every surge of mana. Her hair was a soft, pale blue that fell like silk around her shoulders, framing a face dominated by large, watery blue pupils.
"I've seen her before..." Edna whispered, tapping her chin with a gloved finger. The memory clicked into place like a puzzle piece.
"Oh! Elisa! She's in my theory class." Edna's eyes narrowed as she scanned the other side of the ring. "I wonder who she's fighting..."
Her gaze landed on the opponent, and for a second, Edna's jaw dropped.
The girl was striking—blonde hair tied back in a fierce, high ponytail and eyes the color of molten gold. She moved with the predatory grace of a panther, her academy activity wear pulled tight against a lean, muscular frame.
"Wow, that girl is hot," Edna admitted to
herself, her eyes wide. Then, she shook her head vigorously, her loyalty snapping back into place.
"Buuuuuut... Elisa is so much cuter! She looks like a little blueberry!"
With a determined nod, Edna leaned over the rope, her heart racing as she watched the exchange.
Elisa, trembling slightly but standing her ground, pressed her palms together in front of her chest. A soft, vibrant green glow began to emanate from her fingertips—the unmistakable hue of Wind-Caste magic. With a sharp, melodic cry, she thrust her hands forward. The air itself shrieked as a localized tornado, nearly twice Elisa's height, spiraled into existence. It roared across the sand, heading straight for the blonde opponent.
The blonde girl didn't flinch. At the very last micro-second, she pivoted, her boots kicking up a spray of sand as she jumped to the left. The tornado missed her by inches, but the sheer vacuum pressure of the passing gust caught her mid-air. She stumbled as she landed, her golden-brown eyes widening as she nearly fell off-balance.
"Sorry!" Elisa yelled instinctively, her voice filled with genuine concern even in the heat of battle.
Edna clapped her hands together, a giggle escaping her.
"Uhhh, she even has good manners just like me! Go Elisa! Blow her away!"
But the blonde girl's stumble had been a ruse—a momentary lapse used to mask a high-speed mana burst. Before the word "Go" had fully left Edna's lips, the blonde girl vanished. She didn't just move; she flickered out of existence, reappearing directly in front of Elisa.
Elisa's eyes went wide. The air in front of her face distorted.
POW.
A brutal, snap-action uppercut caught Elisa right under the chin. The sound of the impact made Edna wince. Elisa was lifted off her feet, her blue hair flying wildly as she began to lose her balance, her head snapping back.
Her opponent was a shadow of efficiency. She didn't wait for Elisa to land. As the blue-haired girl tumbled backward, the blonde stretched out her hand. A sphere of crackling, violet energy materialized in the air—a "Delay" type mana trap. With a cruel smirk, the blonde girl used Elisa's own momentum against her, leaping over the falling girl with the agility of an acrobat.
The moment Elisa's back touched the hovering sphere, the air ignited.
BOOM.
A small but vicious explosion erupted against Elisa's spine.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!" Elisa shrieked in agony.
The force of the blast sent her skidding across the grit, her small hands clutching at her chest as she tried to find air. She was sobbing now, the "innocent" aura she carried completely shattered by the violence. As she tried to crawl away, she moved directly into the path of a second sphere the blonde had planted earlier.
Another explosion. Another scream.
The crowd of noble students began to roar, their voices unified in a bloodthirsty chant. They weren't looking for a fair fight; they were looking for a spectacle.
Elisa lay on her stomach, her blue hair matted with dust and sweat. She raised one trembling hand, her voice a broken whisper.
"I... I give up."
Their instructor was nowhere to be seen—likely called away to the Headmaster's office—leaving no authority to call off the match. The blonde girl heard the forfeit. She simply didn't care. She walked toward the fallen Elf, her golden eyes cold and hollow.
She raised her hand again. Another violet sphere formed, pulsing with twice the power of the previous ones. She dropped it directly onto Elisa's legs.
The explosion was deafening. Elisa's body was jerked upward by the force, then slammed back down into the dirt. She was barely conscious, her lips moving in a silent, desperate plea.
"I... gi... ve... u... p..."
The blonde girl let out a loud, mocking laugh that cut through the sound of the wind. "Wait, what was that? I didn't really get that," she mocked. She stepped forward and placed her heavy black boot directly onto the side of Elisa's head, grinding her face into the sand.
"What was that I didn't get that"
The crowd went into a frenzy, pumping their fists into the air.
"STORM! STORM! STORM!"
"That's our Storm!" a group of girls near the front yelled in unison, their faces twisted with arrogant pride.
"Show her the hierarchy, Storm!"
Inside Edna, something broke. The bright smile was gone, replaced by a cold, white-hot fury that made her vision blur. She didn't think about the rules. She didn't think about her commoner status. She vaulted over the arena rope, her boots hitting the sand with a heavy thud that echoed in the sudden, confused silence of the crowd.
She ran straight to Elisa, kneeling in the dirt.
"How could you be so cruel?" Edna yelled, her voice vibrating with a power that made the students in the front row flinch.
"To do this to such a girl when she already surrendered!"
Edna gently hooked her arm under Elisa's, helping the sobbing girl to her feet.
"It's... cough... it's okay," Elisa managed to stammer, her blue eyes clouded with pain.
Storm, the blonde girl, stood back, her boot hovering in the air as she stared at the intruder. Her golden eyes narrowed as she processed Edna's appearance—the lack of a noble crest, the defiant stance.
"Who are y—" Storm paused, a look of realization dawning on her face. A sneer curled her lip.
"Oh. You're one of those. The Commoner I've heard about."
"Yes," Edna snapped. She stood tall, her jaw set in a fierce, cute frown that carried the weight of a storm cloud.
The murmurs returned, but this time they were hushed and uncertain. The legend of the five commoners had already begun to spread through the school like a fever.
"Listen, kid," Storm said, her voice dripping with an icy, aristocratic pride. She began to pace around Edna like a wolf circling its prey.
"This is a school where only the best of the best are forged into legends. Weaklings like you and this blue-haired mistake aren't allowed to take up space. I had no problem with one Commoner , but five? Five of you? It's a nightmare. It's a stain on Aethelgard's history."
"You are heartless," Edna said, her voice dropping into a low, frustrated growl. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides.
"Oh yeah?" Storm turned around, tossing her blonde ponytail over her shoulder as if she were finished with the conversation.
"And what are you going to do about it?"
Storm stopped and looked back over her shoulder, a devious, devilish glint in her golden eyes. She sensed the mana—or lack thereof—radiating from Edna, and it made her hungry for another easy kill.
"You want to fight me?" Storm asked, her tone mocking and sweet.
"You want to be the hero? Well your already in the ring."