The morning light spilled lazily through the arched windows of the classroom as Eris took her usual seat near the back.
But then, all chatter died instantly.
A towering figure filled the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the frame. He had silver rings adorning his knuckles, and the scar running from his left eyebrow to his cheekbone twitched as his gaze swept the room. Behind him, a small entourage of similarly rough-looking students lingered.
Eris didn't bother looking up from the book she had borrowed from the library, "Theoretical Applications of Mana Compression", though she noted the sudden tension in the air.
"Who here is named Eris Yuvathar?"
The voice was deep and rought.
Eris sighed, marking her page with a finger. What now?
Reluctantly, she raised her hand without glancing up. "It's me."
Boots thudded against the stone floor as the giant of a man approached. He stopped just short of her desk, looming like a storm cloud.
"My name is Aztor Honcrauz," he said. "I'm here because you severely hurt two of my men."
Eris finally looked up, her expression blank. "I know nothing about that."
Aztor's jaw tightened. With a sharp gesture, he beckoned two figures forward, the same boys from yesterday. Their faces were still pale with lingering pain.
"Oh. Them." Eris closed her book with a snap. "Yeah, they were being an annoyance, so I taught them a lesson."
A muscle in Aztor's cheek jumped. For a moment, the room was so silent that the rustling of parchment sounded deafening.
"I see you are new around here, so let me make things clear." he said with a dangerously calm voice. "Messing with my crew is to mess with me. You've indirectly ruined my image, so you need to know your place. Eris Yuvathar, I challenge you to a duel. At the courtyard, beginning of afternoon."
A collective gasp rippled through the classroom.
Duels weren't uncommon, sanctioned by the academy as a means of settling disputes or testing skill, but never to the death. The rules were clear: no lethal spells, no permanent injuries. Yet everyone knew that rules bent in one way or another when someone like Aztor was involved.
Eris leaned back in her chair, tilting her head as if considering the offer. Then, with a dismissive flick of her wrist:
"You have quite the courage to challenge me." She met his glare with a bored stare. "Fine. I'll promise to only use one finger to give you a chance."
Aztor's face darkened. For a heartbeat, it looked like he might lunge at her right then—but he mastered himself with visible effort.
"You are funny, but let's see how long your ignorance will last", he says, walking out of the class. "You better pack your things before the match, because it will be your last day at this academy."
The door slammed shut behind him.
The classroom erupted.
"Did she just...?"
"Aztor's surely going to kill her."
"Even if he doesn't kill her, he will definitely make her a cripple!"
Eris ignored them all, reopening her book as if nothing had happened.
The whispers around her painted a clear enough picture.
Aztor Honcrauz. Combat Magic specialist. Leader of a small but feared gang of enforcers who "handled" problems for the right price. His father, a wealthy noble and major financial backer of Valandias, ensured that many of his son's more questionable activities or wrongdoings were quietly overlooked or met with a slap in the wrist.
"He once put a mage in a coma," someone whispered. "The teachers called it an 'accident.'"
"I heard he fought ten veteran mages at once and won."
Eris tuned them out.
Aztor was dangerous, certainly, for a student. But Eris couldn't care less about how dangerous he was said to be. For her, he was nothing more than a peeble in her way.
Still, she couldn't deny the small thrill at the thought of putting him in his place.