The arena's marble pillars gleamed under the midday sun, their surfaces etched with runes that pulsed like a heartbeat.
The crowd murmured restlessly, eyes darting between the two most anticipated names on the roster: Marcus Valen and Augustus Glem.
Marcus stood at the edge of the battlefield, his robes simple, his posture relaxed—deceptively so. No one noticed the flicker of shadow curling from his sleeve, nor the soft hum beneath his breath as he activated the Shadow Codex.
A single page glowed faintly within its obsidian-bound form, the ink shifting to reveal new lines of text:
Target Identified: Augustus Glem
Current Fate Stolen: 4.5% | Next Threshold: 5% (Unlock New Historical Recall)
Recommended Action: Initiate Stage One – Silent Drain
He exhaled slowly, masking his smirk behind a courteous nod toward the judges' platform.
Aelia Serin sat there, her crimson robes stark against the pale stone, watching him like a hawk circling prey.
Marcus raised a hand in mock greeting. She didn't return it.
Back in the dormitory the night before, Lena Sering had slipped into his room like smoke—silent, precise. He'd felt the subtle shift in air pressure before she even stepped over the threshold.
Another puppet, Marcus mused, not moving from his meditation circle. His breathing remained steady, but inside, the Codex flared with predictive algorithms. It mapped out possible scenarios, overlaying them onto reality like translucent threads.
Lena approached, her hands weaving a delicate illusion rune. A wave of heat rippled outward—his mind's firewall would have been overwhelmed if not for the preloaded counter-seal embedded in his personal ward.
Instead of resisting, Marcus let the illusion take root. The world around him blurred, replaced by a vivid memory—only it wasn't his own.
In the illusion, he was younger, sweating over a forbidden scroll in the archives. The title read: Resonance Fracture Technique — Breakthrough Method for Flame Cores.
Lena lingered just long enough to absorb the details before retreating into the shadows.
Perfect.
Now, under the blazing sun, Marcus allowed himself to falter. He misfired an ice lance, letting it crack against the ground instead of hitting his opponent.
Aelia's voice cut through the noise like a blade. "Still clinging to childish tricks, I see," she sneered. "Some things never change."
A few spectators chuckled. Augustus smirked from across the field, confident in the stolen knowledge Lena had delivered. He believed he now held the key to Marcus's hidden strength.
But they all underestimated the Codex.
Each 'mistake' Marcus made during the match was calculated. Every time his hand brushed an opponent's skin—even briefly—it triggered a passive effect of the Codex: Fate Leak Detection. If successful, it initiated a slow drain of the target's luck and potential.
By the end of the first round, Marcus had silently skimmed away 0.7% of Augustus's fate.
Total stolen: 5.2%
New Ability Unlocked: Historical Recall – Flamebinding Rite (Duration: 10s)
Use Limit: Once per match
His smile this time was genuine.
In the second round, the battlefield transformed into a floating array of elemental rings—fire, water, wind, earth—each rotating independently. Contestants were tasked with navigating through the chaos without touching the unstable cores.
Marcus moved last. The others dashed forward with precision, using advanced levitation glyphs or wind-step techniques.
But Marcus simply walked—no runes, no flashy spells. He stepped onto the fire ring.
The audience gasped. Aelia leaned forward. "Does he think this is some kind of joke?"
But the flames did not burn him. Instead, they parted like a curtain drawn back by invisible hands.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but those who knew how to look saw it: the flame core's pulse slowed slightly when he passed. As if… yielding to him.
Behind the judge's podium, Simon Hurst narrowed his eyes. A quiet alert chimed in his earpiece—a magical resonance anomaly detected near Marcus. He tapped his slate and began recording data points.
Valk Taron, sitting alone in the stands, clenched his fists. There was something off about this boy, something he couldn't yet name—but it smelled of power. Real power. The kind that could tear kingdoms apart.
And it wasn't being used recklessly. It was being hoarded.
When the semifinal bracket was announced, the crowd buzzed with anticipation.
Marcus vs. Augustus.
The final test would be a live combat simulation within the Veil Rift Chamber, a relic-enchanted arena that pulled fragments of past battles into the present—forcing duelists to adapt to unpredictable variables while battling each other.
As the names were called, Marcus met Augustus's gaze across the arena. There was no bravado, no showmanship. Just a quiet understanding passing between them.
Augustus thought he knew the game. Marcus had already won it.
That night, as students prepared for the final round, Marcus returned to his dorm and opened the Shadow Codex.
A new entry had unlocked after reaching 5% fate stolen:
Historical Recall Triggered: Veil Sundering Rite (Partial Fragment)
Vision Activated:
A hooded figure standing before a mirror-like veil. Their reflection moves differently.
The words echo: "Truth is a weapon only when wielded by the unwavering. Beware the light that blinds you."
Marcus stared at the vision until it faded. Then he closed the book.
Tomorrow, the mask would begin to slip. But not for him.
"Fate is not a river. It is a thread—woven, frayed, and sometimes, stolen."