Academy Arena — Tournament Day
The banners were up. Mana screens shimmered across the sky like floating runes, projecting scores and match-ups to every corner of the campus. Professors, nobles, scouts, and visiting dignitaries filled the stands—eager for blood, talent, and future pawns.
The Dueling Tournament had begun.
Officially called the Crown Proving Series, it was a battle bracket for prestige. For students, it meant reputation. For noble houses, it meant dominance.
For Kain?
It was a chance to play god in front of an audience.
⸻
Round One: Kain vs. Artus Belrow
"Combatants, step into the ring."
Artus Belrow was a second-year, a hothead with a background in kinetic earth magic. He was from a mid-tier house, but with deep military roots. Built like a warhorse, scarred hands, cocky eyes.
Kain stepped into the ring quietly.
Same black and silver robes. No fanfare.
The crowd barely reacted to his name.
But in the high seats, some eyes were fixed.
Lucas.
Rhiannon.
Eliette.
And a shadow among the professors.
⸻
The Observer — A Nameless Blade in Disguise
She wore the form of a school archivist. Old, forgettable, gray-robed. But no one noticed how she never blinked. How her eyes tracked every twitch of Kain's body with surgical precision.
She was called Whispers—one of the Nameless Four.
And she had come to watch the one who survived the execution order.
He doesn't look like much, she thought.
But her instincts whispered otherwise.
⸻
The Match Begins
Artus raised both arms, the arena floor rumbling beneath him.
Stone spikes jutted upward—controlled, precise. He surged forward like a charging bull, blade in one hand, geomancy in the other.
"Yield early, bastard! I don't feel like burying you!"
Kain didn't reply.
He vanished.
Shadow Step.
The crowd gasped.
He reappeared behind Artus in less than a blink, palm extended.
Burst spell: Shadow Bloom.
Black tendrils of solid mana erupted from the floor, coiling around Artus's ankles and wrists, locking him mid-motion.
Artus shouted and triggered an earth shockwave, freeing himself.
But by then Kain was already moving.
He drew no weapon.
He didn't need one.
Instead, he ducked under the blade, slid to Artus's right flank, and slammed an open palm into the joint of his opponent's sword arm.
CRACK.
Bone snapped.
The scream was instant.
Artus swung his left fist—clumsy, heavy.
Kain grabbed it, spun, and drove a knee into the man's gut.
Then, with perfect calm, he activated Ogre Fleshbind.
His skin hardened to gray, his muscles swelled, and he lifted Artus by the neck—just long enough to slam him down into the stone with shattering force.
The entire arena flinched.
Artus didn't move.
⸻
Silence. Then Chaos.
"Winner: Kain Norigusho."
No cheers. Just stunned silence.
Then whispers.
Even among the professors.
"What was that technique?"
"That wasn't Norigusho style."
"He looked like a monster."
"…He didn't use a weapon."
Above them all, Whispers narrowed her eyes.
That wasn't a fight. That was a message.
⸻
Post-Match — The Princess Confronts the Villain
Kain was washing his hands in the private hall basin when he heard soft steps behind him.
He turned, slowly.
Rhiannon.
Still in disguise, but her aura leaked through. She'd dropped the commoner mask just enough for him to feel the weight of her bloodline pressing into the air.
Her tone was quiet. Sharp.
"You've been hiding something."
"I've been hiding a lot of things."
Her gaze didn't waver.
"You could've killed him."
"I didn't."
"You fought like an assassin. You used transmutation magic. And that shadow step—"
"Is illegal in most dueling circuits. Yes. You going to arrest me, Your Highness?"
She said nothing.
Kain stepped closer.
"Everyone here is playing dress-up. Nobles pretending to be warriors. Prodigies pretending to be humble. Heroes pretending they're not murderers."
He leaned in, voice just above a whisper.
"I'm the only one honest enough to admit what I am."
Rhiannon's eyes glinted. "And what is that?"
He smiled—cold, elegant.
"A man who writes the script, not follows it."
Then he walked past her, vanishing into the corridor shadows.
⸻
Eliette Watches. Always.
She hadn't missed a moment.
She was there, in the upper deck, hand resting on her jaw.
There was something about the way Kain moved now.
Not just physically.
Socially.
Every encounter was like a chess move. Every silence, a calculated pause.
He was writing events in real time.
And she?
She was watching the birth of something terrible.
And she wanted to be close when it bloomed.
⸻
A God's Inner Monologue
That night, Kain returned to his dorm and stood at the window, watching the glowing towers of the Academy pulse like spires of thought.
He whispered to himself.
"They're all beginning to notice. Lucas. The princess. The Guild. Eliette."
He smiled faintly.
"Good."
His body thrummed with power—Ogre blood strengthening his regeneration, the assassin's instincts refining his reflexes, and now magic coursing like oil through gears in his bones.
He conjured a small flame in one hand, and shadow tendrils in the other.
Power, he thought. But still not enough.
There were more enemies to deal with.
Lucas, who would one day gain divine blessing.
The Church, who would bring war.
The Demon God, who would descend in fifty chapters.
He had time.
And with time…
He could replace the world.
One death at a time.
He opened his notebook and wrote two words:
"Rewrite Fate."
Then he underlined it in blood.