The labyrinthine alleys of Leo City wound endlessly, their dim passageways carved through towering stone buildings that loomed like silent sentinels. The golden light of day was retreating, leaving the city painted in shades of gray and amber as the first stars began to emerge. Shane—still insisting everyone call him Sean—led Julius through the narrow streets with the practiced ease of someone born to the shadows.
“Almost there,” Shane said, tossing a grin over his shoulder. “Keep up, Johnson. Wouldn’t want you missing your grand entrance.”
Julius followed, his boots echoing softly against the cobblestones as the two of them moved through the dimming streets. The air buzzed with quiet energy as if the Academy itself exhaled with the approaching night. Shadows stretched long across the walls, broken by the occasional torchlight, and for a moment, Julius felt like an outsider peering into a world that wasn’t his to claim. Each step brought him closer to the weight of expectation—to the legacy he carried and the uncertainty that clung to it like a shroud. But there was no turning back now.
Shane guided him to a narrow alcove that overlooked a wide courtyard just outside the Academy’s towering walls. The spires loomed above the city like gilded spears, their banners catching the evening wind. The sight made Julius’s chest tighten. Here, knights were forged. Legends were made.
Before Julius could speak, a sharp, cold voice rang out, cutting through the shadows.
“You’re wasting your time.”
Julius turned sharply, his muscles tensing. A figure stepped into the light, emerging from the alley’s shadows with a grace that made his movements seem almost predatory. The boy was tall and carried himself with an ease Julius immediately hated—calm, calculated, and arrogant. His polished white robes, trimmed with gold, marked him as someone important, but it was his face that set Julius on edge. Blonde hair framed sharp features, and his piercing blue eyes cut through Julius like shards of ice.
“You’re blocking the view,” Julius said, trying to keep his tone steady.
The boy smirked faintly, the gesture both amused and dismissive. “No, I’m saving you the trouble. You don’t belong here.”
Julius’s brows furrowed. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”
“I’m giving it anyway.” The boy stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over Julius like a hawk studying prey. “You’re what—some farmer boy with a stolen sword and big dreams? Let me guess. You thought you’d knock on the Academy gates, swing that oversized blade around, and they’d throw open the doors.”
Julius’s grip tightened on his sword. “And you are?”
“Edward Leona.” His voice was smooth and confident. “Maybe you’ve heard of me.”
The name dropped like a hammer, and Julius’s chest clenched. Edward Leona. The prince. The Blade of Justice. The heir to the throne. Of course, Julius had heard of him.
“Prince Edward,” Julius said, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “Must be nice to stand there judging people when everything’s already been handed to you.”
Something flickered across Edward’s expression, but it vanished in an instant. “You think it’s been handed to me?” he said coolly. “You have no idea what it means to carry a legacy like mine. But you? You’re just here—a distraction, wasting everyone’s time.”
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Julius took a step forward, his temper fraying. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“And I don’t need to,” Edward shot back. “It’s written all over you. Your grip is sloppy. Your stance is wrong. That sword might look impressive, but it won’t make you a knight.”
Julius’s blood boiled. He could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, Edward’s arrogance driving his frustration to a breaking point. “Then why don’t you prove it?”
Edward raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning wolfish. “You’re challenging me?”
Julius didn’t hesitate. “Unless you’re afraid to lose.”
The taunt landed exactly as Julius intended. Edward’s gaze sharpened, and with a smooth motion, he drew his sword. Its gleaming blade reflected the fading light, arcs of purple lightning crackling along its edge. The air hummed with power.
“Very well,” Edward said, his tone turning dangerous. “I’ll show you what a knight looks like.”
Julius unsheathed his father’s sword, the steel ringing out as it cleared the scabbard. His heart pounded, but his focus narrowed. This wasn’t just about Edward. This was about proving himself—to the prince, to the Academy, and to anyone else who dared dismiss him.
Edward moved first, his sword cutting through the air in a clean, precise arc. Julius met it with his blade, the clash of steel ringing out like a bell. The force of the blow sent vibrations up Julius’s arms, but he held his ground. He countered with a wide swing, raw and forceful, but Edward sidestepped it with infuriating ease.
“You’re too slow,” Edward said, his voice calm. He struck again, his blade a blur of precision. Julius blocked and stumbled back, sweat prickling his brow.
“Stop talking and fight,” Julius growled.
Edward’s smirk deepened. “Fine.”
He pressed his attack, moving with a grace and speed Julius couldn’t match. Each strike was deliberate, each step perfectly calculated. Julius swung wildly, his frustration mounting as his strikes met nothing but air.
“Sloppy. Predictable,” Edward said, dodging another blow. “You’re not thinking. You’re just swinging.”
Julius’s chest heaved as Edward knocked his blade aside with a swift parry. Before Julius could react, Edward stepped inside his guard and drove the pommel of his sword into Julius’s ribs. Pain exploded through his side, and Julius staggered, barely managing to keep his footing.
“Is this all you’ve got?” Edward said, his voice colder now. “If this is the best you can do, you don’t belong anywhere near the Academy.”
Julius clenched his teeth, rage flaring in his chest. The calm, detached voice returned in his mind.
Focus. Adjust your stance. Don’t let him bait you.
He took a breath, centering himself, and lunged again, this time with more control. Edward’s blade still met his every strike, but Julius forced him to move, to react. For a moment, Julius thought he saw Edward’s smirk falter.
Then Edward’s blade crackled with lightning, and the world seemed to slow. “You’re done.”
The lightning surged forward, striking Julius square in the chest. The force hurled him backward, his father’s sword slipping from his hand as he hit the ground hard. Pain seared through his body, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.
Edward stood over him, his sword at his side. “Stay down,” he said, his voice quiet. “This is over.”
But Julius gritted his teeth and pushed himself onto his knees. His body shook with exhaustion and pain, but he refused to yield. He reached for his sword, his hazel eyes burning with defiance.
“I’m not done yet,” he rasped.
Edward’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, a flicker of something—surprise, perhaps?—crossing his face. But before either could move, a sharp voice cut through the courtyard.
“That’s enough!”
The commanding presence of Lance Royce stepped into the fray, his armor gleaming in the fading light. He surveyed the scene, his gray eyes narrowing.
“Prince Edward,” Lance said evenly, “explain yourself.”
Edward sheathed his blade with a flick. “This fool challenged me. I was merely putting him in his place.”
Lance’s gaze shifted to Julius, who was still on his knees, chest heaving. “Name.”
“Julius Johnson,” Julius managed, his voice hoarse.
Something flickered in Lance’s expression, but it was gone in an instant. “Get up,” he said, extending a hand. “You’re coming with me.”
Edward stiffened. “What are you doing, Royce?”
“Following orders,” Lance replied, his tone curt. He guided Julius away, leaving Edward standing alone, the tension lingering like a stormcloud.
As Lance led him from the courtyard, Julius gripped his sword tightly, his mind racing. He hadn’t won, but he hadn’t broken either. Edward Leona might have knocked him down, but Julius swore to himself that this was only the beginning.
I’ll close the gap, he thought. And I’ll prove I belong here.