Chapter 25 – Crimson vs. Velocity
The courtyard of Aurelius Academy had not known peace since that morning.
What began as a simple training session turned into an uproar that spread through halls, dorms, and lecture wings. Magnus Nox D'ark, once dismissed as cold and unreachable, had carved something tangible out of Redmond's words. Where his constructs had been clumsy projections of hard-light schematics, now they flowed like living machines — gears meshing, wings folding, cannons manifesting midair before dissolving back into coded darkness.
The sight had shaken students to their cores.
"He really did it…!" one cadet whispered, eyes wide.
"That's not just a refinement. He reshaped his Origin Talent itself."
"No, not reshaped — he aligned it. Like he was born for it. Nox clan blood runs thick, huh?"
"But he never had a darkness type. How—"
"Redmond," another cut in, almost reverent. "He reminded him. Like he knew what Magnus had forgotten."
Their chatter wove through the plaza like a low storm, buzzing in every ear. Groups clustered, whispering and gesturing, their words all leading to a single point of gravity: Redmond Luxifel.
On the high terrace, members of staff exchanged glances heavy with meaning.
Dean Elias Ward's eyes narrowed as he stroked his chin. "That boy… he's not simply growing. He's unraveling things in others. That is far rarer — and far more dangerous."
Commander Maren Locke gave a humorless snort. "Dangerous? Or exactly what this generation needs? Half the brats here worship their Talents without understanding them. He forces them to confront their Origin itself."
Professor Ava Stroud leaned on the rail, gaze fixed on Magnus' new constructs still whirling faintly in the air. "A convergence of void and vermilion energy… no, not void. Something else. Adaptive. Alive. If he can trigger resonance in others by instinct, we might see multiple breakthroughs in a single year."
"And chaos," Doctor Cassian Holt added grimly. "Children chasing after mysteries they can't grasp often end up corpses."
The Dean's silence said enough.
Down below, Redmond stood apart, crimson energy flickering faintly across his arm before vanishing. He hadn't meant to draw attention, yet the gazes crawling over him were unavoidable. He heard every whisper, every speculation, every grasping attempt to define him.
He felt none of it. What lingered in his mind was the look on Magnus' face — a mixture of disbelief, relief, and hunger. A hunger Redmond recognized all too well.
Magnus, still trembling, exhaled hard as his constructs dispersed. "You—" he muttered, stepping toward Redmond, but words failed him. He clenched his fist, dark circuits glowing faintly along his wrist. "No. Not now. I… I'll refine this further. Then I'll—" He stopped, catching himself before pride swallowed gratitude. "…Thank you."
Redmond gave only a small nod. His crimson energy rippled like a heartbeat across his knuckles before subsiding. Living energy, he thought. Always restless. Always shifting. Fire. Water. Ice. Lightning. Crystal. Whatever form he willed, it mirrored back at him, as though eager to prove it could be anything. Or everything.
Mob voices rose again, louder this time.
"If Magnus could step forward just by hearing him… what if we try it too?"
"Are you crazy? His words aren't a manual. They're… something else."
"Still! You heard him — Origin isn't just what you're born with, it's what you shape. What if I can push my emitter flames into something more?"
"Or die trying," another muttered. "There's a reason elders don't hand out secrets lightly."
Excitement clashed with fear, and soon the courtyard was alive with students experimenting recklessly, small sparks of aura flashing, water droplets freezing in the air, stones cracking under density pressure.
The staff looked on grimly, and Locke finally barked an order: "Enough! Training grounds are not a playground for revelations. If you want to test yourselves, wait for the Supremacy Holder Tournament."
At once, every voice hushed.
The words hit harder than any reprimand.
"The Tournament?" someone whispered, almost giddy.
"It's official then? This year's date—"
"Yes. Two months from now," Locke confirmed, his voice carrying over the gathering. "Selection trials will begin in three weeks. Obstacles. Duels. Construct resistance. You think yourselves worthy? Earn it under the Academy's eye."
A ripple of excitement tore through the students. The Supremacy Holders — legends who stood as the peak of cadet hierarchy — were untouchable. To challenge for their ranks was a privilege, even if most failed.
And now, after witnessing Magnus' breakthrough, hope flared like wildfire.
Redmond remained unmoved. He had no intention of parading strength for recognition. Yet, as he turned to leave, a new voice rang out across the courtyard.
"Luxifel!"
The call was sharp, charged with youthful pride. Students parted, eyes snapping toward the source.
A tall boy with cropped black hair and silver eyes stepped forward. His uniform was cut lean, and faint ripples of distortion shimmered at his feet — as though space itself bent around his movements.
"Jarek Veylan," someone hissed.
"He's the one with the speed-type Origin Talent, right? They say he can break sound at semi-awakened stage."
Jarek's gaze locked onto Redmond, his voice firm. "I'll be blunt. You've stirred the Academy enough today. If your words can ignite others, then prove your strength in the arena. Duel me."
A hush fell.
Redmond stopped walking. He didn't turn immediately, crimson energy flickering once at his wrist like an irritated flame. When he finally looked at Jarek, his eyes were cool, unreadable.
"A duel?"
"Yes." Jarek's stance was confident, though his aura flickered with restrained nerves. "Your presence overshadows everyone. Even Supremacy Holders are watching you now. I won't stand aside and be just another whisper in your wake. Face me."
Murmurs exploded.
"He's crazy—"
"No, he's perfect! A speed-type against Luxifel's raw power? That'll shake the campus!"
"Or kill him."
Kael Stroud, who had been standing nearby, slapped a hand to his forehead. "Here we go again. First Magnus, now this guy wants a piece. Red, you're starting a trend and it's gonna give me gray hair before I hit twenty."
Selene Veyra folded her arms, eyes sharp. "No. He's not starting it. They are. They see a chance to measure themselves against something greater. And some can't resist chasing after it."
Tiran Voss shook his head slowly. "Still… a duel like this, if it's sanctioned, it'll attract everyone. Even Supremacy Seven."
Redmond said nothing for a long moment. His crimson energy pulsed once more, forming the faint shape of a blade before dissolving. Ever-changing. Ever restless. He wondered, briefly, if denying the duel would even matter. The tide had already shifted. His name was no longer just spoken. It was demanded.
He finally exhaled. "Fine."
The word struck like lightning.
Jarek's eyes sharpened, his aura distorting again as the ground cracked faintly beneath his feet. "Arena, then. At dusk."
The students roared.
A duel between Redmond Luxifel and Jarek Veylan was no longer just a rumor. It was the next event in the Academy's restless storm.
Up on the terrace, the staff exchanged another round of grim looks.
"First Magnus. Now this," Ava Stroud murmured. "That boy is a catalyst. Whether for growth or disaster remains to be seen."
Dean Ward's eyes lingered on Redmond's retreating form. He did not smile. "Catalyst, yes. But a catalyst cannot choose what reactions it triggers. The Academy must be ready for the explosion."