Arena Three was carved into the bedrock beneath the school—a circular pit fifty meters across, reinforced with essence-infused stone that could withstand attacks from even the strongest students. Tiered seating rose around it in concentric rings, and this morning, every seat was filled.
Official matches were mandatory viewing.
Silver sat in the middle section, Ada standing precisely two steps behind his right shoulder. Her posture was perfect, hands clasped in front of her, expression neutral. The picture of a professional servant.
"Young Master should be careful not to strain himself after yesterday's... incident," Ada said, her voice carrying just far enough for nearby students to hear.
Silver resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm fine, Ada."
"Of course, Young Master."
The formality grated on him, but he understood why she did it. Appearances mattered. A special entry student with a capable maid was one thing. A special entry student with a maid who treated him like a younger brother would raise questions.
Still didn't mean he had to like the "Young Master" nonsense.
Around them, students buzzed with conversation. Most were discussing the match, laying bets, speculating on how long Prince would last. A few glanced at Silver—the cripple who'd somehow survived Prince's flames yesterday—but most ignored him.
Good.
One seat in the upper tier remained conspicuously empty.
Milim Grey hadn't bothered to attend.
The arena floor shimmered as Ann-Katrin descended the stairs, her presence silencing the crowd instantly. She stepped into the center of the pit, Russian accent cutting through the space like a blade.
"Official match. Prince Zopf versus Mary Black." She gestured to opposite sides of the arena. "Rules: Fight until one cannot continue, surrenders, or dies. Use everything at your disposal. No outside interference."
Her eyes swept the crowd. "Any violation of these rules will result in immediate expulsion and formal challenge from me personally."
Nobody moved.
"Combatants, enter."
Prince emerged from the eastern tunnel, blue flames already flickering across his skin. He'd discarded his uniform jacket, fighting in just the shirt and pants, both already scorched from how hot his flames burned. His expression was set—determined, angry, humiliated from yesterday and looking to reclaim some pride.
Mary entered from the west, wearing her full uniform, not a hair out of place. She walked like someone going to a lecture, not a fight. Calm. Unhurried.
Bored, almost.
They stopped ten meters apart.
Ann-Katrin raised her hand. "Begin."
She vanished from the arena floor.
Prince didn't wait. Blue flames exploded from his body in a massive wave, surging across the arena toward Mary like a tsunami of fire. The heat hit the crowd even in the reinforced seating—students flinched back, throwing up essence barriers instinctively.
The attack was meant to overwhelm, to end the fight immediately.
Mary raised one hand.
The flames split around her, diverted by nothing visible, carving paths to either side before dissipating against the arena walls. She hadn't moved. Hadn't even reinforced her essence visibly.
The fire just... avoided her.
Prince's eyes narrowed. He compressed the flames, shaping them into dozens of lances that shot forward from multiple angles—high, low, curved trajectories designed to deny escape routes.
Mary walked forward.
Each lance evaporated before reaching her, as if hitting an invisible wall of force. She didn't dodge, didn't block. Just walked through the barrage like it didn't exist.
"Stop ignoring me!" Prince roared. He slammed both hands together, and the blue flames coalesced into a massive serpent—ten meters long, wreathed in fire so hot the stone beneath it cracked and melted. The construct lunged, jaws wide enough to swallow Mary whole.
Mary stopped walking.
She clenched her fist.
The flame serpent... collapsed. Not extinguished. Not dispersed. It just stopped existing, as if the energy holding it together had been crushed out of reality.
Silver leaned forward slightly. That wasn't just essence reinforcement. That was something else. Mary had done something to the flames themselves, but he couldn't see what. No visible technique, no obvious affinity marker.
Just control.
Prince stumbled back, breathing hard. Creating that construct had taken significant essence, and watching it die without touching his opponent was rattling him.
"You're not even trying," Prince accused.
"No," Mary agreed. "I'm not."
His face flushed red. Blue flames erupted again, hotter now, fueled by rage and desperation. He wasn't holding back anymore—this was everything he had. The flames took shape: spinning wheels of fire, compression spheres that detonated on impact, streams of cutting flame that could slice through steel.
He threw all of it at Mary.
She moved then. Not away from the attacks—through them.
Her essence flared visible now, a subtle shimmer around her body. Each attack that came close simply... failed. Flames guttered out. Compression spheres lost cohesion. Cutting streams bent away at impossible angles.
And Mary walked closer.
Prince created distance, launching himself backward with flame propulsion, putting twenty meters between them. He needed space, needed time to think. Mary was doing something to his flames, neutralizing them before they could land, but he couldn't figure out how.
"Blue Flame: Extinction Burst."
It was his strongest technique. All of his essence poured into a single point between his palms, compressed until it was barely visible—a marble of blue-white fire that contained enough heat to vaporize steel. He released it.
The marble shot forward, leaving a trail of molten stone in its wake.
Mary didn't try to neutralize this one.
She caught it.
Bare handed.
The explosion should have leveled half the arena. Instead, it detonated in her grip, contained completely within her essence-reinforced hand. Blue flames washed over her arm, her shoulder, her torso.
And did nothing.
When the light faded, Mary stood unmarked. The marble had been crushed to nothing in her fist.
Prince fell to one knee. That technique had taken everything he had left. His essence reserves were nearly empty, flames sputtering out across his body.
Mary walked up to him, stopped just outside arm's reach.
"You're strong," she said quietly. "For your age, for your family, you're talented. But you're also arrogant. You see someone without essence and assume they're weak. You see someone stronger and assume you can catch up with raw power."
She crouched down to his eye level.
"There's a difference between strength and power, Prince. You have power. You don't yet have strength."
She tapped her knuckles lightly against his forehead—not a hit, just a gesture. Gentle, almost sisterly.
"Surrender."
Prince's jaw worked. His pride screamed at him to keep fighting, to push beyond his limits, to prove something.
But his body was done. Essence depleted. Flames extinguished.
"I..." He swallowed hard. "I surrender."
Ann-Katrin's voice echoed through the arena. "Match concluded. Winner: Mary Black."
The crowd erupted in noise—cheers, groans from those who'd bet on Prince, discussions of what they'd just witnessed.
Silver sat back, processing what he'd seen.
Mary hadn't used whatever her true affinity was. She'd won with pure essence control and... something else. Some kind of force manipulation that he couldn't identify. She'd neutralized Prince's strongest attacks without breaking a sweat, and then ended it with kindness rather than humiliation.
Strong. Controlled. Merciful.
No wonder Milim hadn't bothered watching. The outcome had never been in question.
"Young Master appears thoughtful," Ada murmured from behind him.
"Just learning," Silver replied quietly.
"And what has Young Master learned?"
Silver watched Mary help Prince to his feet, watched her say something that made his expression shift from humiliation to something more thoughtful.
"That I need to be more careful about who I let see me move," Silver said.
Because if Mary had really been paying attention yesterday—if she'd seen past the burns and the desperate dodging—she might have noticed the same thing Silver just confirmed about her.
They were both hiding something.
After the Match - Hallway
"Young Master, a moment."
They'd stepped away from the crowd, finding a quiet alcove near the training halls. Ada dropped the formal posture slightly, though her voice remained measured.
"What Mary did," Ada said, her dark eyes serious. "Did you see it?"
"She neutralized his flames," Silver replied. "But I couldn't tell how."
"Essence hijacking," Ada explained. "She sent her own essence between Prince and his flames—a trojan, essentially. Severed his control over his own attacks before they could land. When she caught that final burst, she'd already intercepted its essence structure. It never had a chance to detonate properly."
Silver's eyes widened slightly. "That requires..."
"Surgical precision. Split-second timing. Complete confidence in your essence control." Ada's expression was grave. "I've seen maybe five people who could do that consistently in combat. Mary Black is one of them, and she's only eighteen."
"She didn't even use her affinity," Silver murmured.
"No. She didn't need to." Ada glanced back toward the arena. "Young Master should be aware—if she can thread her essence through Prince's flames that precisely, she could do it to your techniques as well. If you're ever forced to fight her..."
"I know." Silver's jaw tightened. "Don't rely on pure essence attacks. She'll just hijack them."
Ada nodded. "Exactly. Your affinity, when you're forced to reveal it, will be your only advantage. Raw essence against her is suicide."
Silver filed that information away. Another layer of complexity to navigate.
Another reason to stay hidden as long as possible.