Chapter 17: The Hunters Gaze

The sun hadn’t even climbed halfway into the sky when we were ordered to the training grounds. Rias and I followed the stream of first-years through winding stone corridors, eventually spilling out into an open-air arena larger than any building I’d ever seen.

The coliseum’s walls curved high overhead like a stone bowl, etched with glowing runes that pulsed faintly with blue light. I noticed a few students mumbling guesses, but Professor Quillmere’s voice from yesterday echoed in my memory.

Runes that absorb impact. Defensive barriers. A safeguard—for spectators, if there ever were any.

There were none today.

I stepped onto the field with the others, my boots brushing over packed dirt and worn training circles. Rias stayed behind in the shade with Geri curled beside her, while Sköll padded silently at my side, eyes sharp and tail low. He didn’t like the feeling here either. I moved to stand with Toren, Caelan, and a few others from Class 1S, but Sköll didn’t stray. He sat close behind me, his gaze fixed on the man who’d just entered the arena.

Professor Kael Draven.

He didn’t look old—maybe thirty at most. Tall, lean, with pale skin and black hair slicked back so precisely it looked unnatural. His clothes were simple but sharp: black boots, fitted navy tunic, a long coat draped from his shoulders. No sword. No visible weapons. Just sharp, calculating green eyes that scanned the class like a hawk looking for movement.

His gaze landed on me—and for a heartbeat, the air in my lungs froze.

It wasn’t just pressure. It was… instinct.

A cold, crawling sense beneath my skin.

Prey. I felt like prey.

Then his eyes moved on, like I wasn’t worth a second glance.

He stopped in the center of the arena, hands clasped behind his back.

“Class 1S,” he said smoothly. His voice was calm, clear, and just loud enough to carry without effort. “My name is Kael Draven. I am your Combat Training instructor.”

He turned slowly, letting his gaze sweep across us again. “I am not here to make you comfortable. I am not here to teach you to win. I am here to teach you to survive. Because most of you will not.”

A few students shifted uncomfortably. I didn’t.

I’d already survived worse.

Kael lifted a hand and pointed toward the wall of the arena. “The runes surrounding this space will protect against stray spells. Don’t worry about holding back. If you cannot control your mana under stress, you’re no different than a beast flailing in the dark.”

He lowered his arm.

“You will fight. One-on-one. Today, I’ll observe and evaluate.”

He turned on his heel and gestured. “First pairing: Arthur Fenrir.”

I blinked.

Okay. Guess I’m up early.

“…And Anastella Vortigern.”

The name hit harder than the cold stare he’d given me. Whispers spread across the group before I even stepped forward.

Her.

Red hair caught my eye before anything else—fiery, untamed, glowing like embers in the morning sun. She stood tall, proud, and furious. Her emerald eyes—so much like the king’s—locked onto me with open disdain.

So this was the king’s granddaughter.

The one whose ambition I had shattered just by existing.

She stepped forward with slow, deliberate grace, like a blade unsheathing itself. Every step was confidence. Every glance was venom.

Great.

“Arthur,” she said, her voice smooth and clipped, “try not to embarrass the royal name before the fight even begins.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Funny. I was about to say the same.”

She scowled. Kael said nothing.

We moved to the center of the arena. I drew my sword, letting mana slide into the hilt and spread across the blade. It shimmered faintly as the enhancement settled in, my muscles already adjusting to the extra weight.

Anastella didn’t draw a weapon. Instead, her hands lit up with a sharp red glow—fiery, raw, and angry. Fire affinity.

Of course she had fire magic.

Kael raised a hand between us.

“Begin.”

The word hadn’t even finished leaving his mouth before Anastella moved.

A bolt of flame burst from her palm, fast and violent. I ducked, the heat flashing past my cheek, close enough to singe hair. Dirt scorched behind me where the blast struck.

So much for warming up.

I dropped into a defensive stance and forced mana into my legs, feeling that familiar heat spread through my veins. My grip tightened around my sword as I rushed forward—dodging another firebolt that sizzled past my shoulder.

Anastella didn’t flinch. Her hands blurred as she summoned another stream of fire, not wild like a torch but shaped like a whip. It cracked toward me with a sharp hiss.

I raised my arm, pushing mana into the fabric of my shirt—and the impact struck hard, nearly knocking me off balance. My sleeve smoked, but it didn’t burn through.

Enhancement was holding.

I shifted my weight and slammed my foot down.

The ground beneath her jolted upward—a spike of packed earth shooting toward her ankles.

She reacted instantly.

Fire flared beneath her boots, and she shot upward, flipping over my earth spike with an elegant midair twist. Her body spun through the air like she’d practiced it a thousand times—and maybe she had.

She landed, skidding back a step. Annoyed.

“What was that?” she spat. “Dirt tricks?”

I didn’t answer. Just channeled more mana into the ground. A ripple spread outward—then a shallow ridge rose behind her, aiming to catch her off guard.

But she turned, blasted it apart with a flick of her wrist, and rushed me head-on.

For a second, I saw her face—not just anger, but frustration. Maybe even desperation.

She swung low with her flames. I ducked.

Another arc came high—I blocked it with the flat of my blade, the impact sending a jolt down my arm.

I pushed forward, blade sweeping toward her side—but she twirled around me and fired a burst point-blank at my ribs.

I caught it with my forearm—enhanced just in time.

Still hurt like hell.

I gritted my teeth and shoved her back.

Behind me, Sköll growled low and tense, his eyes never leaving Anastella.

I didn’t turn to him. “Easy,” I muttered under my breath. “I’ve got this.”

He didn’t move, but the growl stopped.

“I don’t need a wolf guarding me,” I muttered under my breath. “Not yet.”

Anastella backed away, her chest heaving slightly, fire swirling in her palm again.

“This kingdom was ours,” she hissed. “Mine. My mother’s. We earned it. And then you show up out of nowhere—what, with a crest and a puppy? And we’re all supposed to kneel?”

I didn’t answer. Not because I couldn’t—but because I didn’t have a good one.

Because some part of me understood that pain.

She didn’t give me time to dwell on it.

With a shout, she surged forward again.

I met her mid-charge—swinging with enhanced strength. My blade collided with her flames, carving through the burst of heat and forcing her to leap back.

She landed hard. Stumbled.

I followed, dropping into a low crouch and slamming my hand into the dirt. A shallow pit opened beneath her foot—and she slipped.

In a flash, I was on her. Sword at her throat, not touching. Just close enough.

Her green eyes met mine. Furious. Breathing hard.

Kael’s voice rang out.

“Enough.”

I stepped back and lowered my blade.

Anastella stayed crouched for a second longer, fists clenched. Then she rose slowly, her chin high despite the loss.

“You’re better than I thought,” she muttered, brushing dirt from her sleeve. “But don’t let that crown fool you. You’re not a king yet.”

I nodded once, silent.

Her words weren’t a threat. They were a promise.

The fight left me winded, but not broken.

We were dismissed shortly after, though Kael said nothing to me. No feedback. No warning. Just a glance that lingered half a second too long.

That same feeling crept back—like I’d been weighed, measured, and left for later.

Sköll walked close to my side as we exited the arena, tail low but calm. He hadn’t moved a muscle during the fight, but I could tell he’d wanted to. He’d sensed something.

Not danger. Not from Anastella.

From Kael.

The others waited near a circular garden not far from the training grounds—Rias was already sitting beneath a shaded tree with Geri curled at her feet, while Caelan, Seraphine, and Toren passed around some wrapped lunches they’d picked up from the dining hall.

Elaris sat on a bench nearby, hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes lifting as I approached.

“You held your ground,” she said gently, as if offering praise without making it too obvious.

I shrugged, trying to play it off. “Barely.”

She tilted her head. “You disarmed a Vortigern.”

“Only for a second. I don’t think she’s the type to forget that.”

Elaris smiled softly, then patted the empty spot on the bench beside her. “Sit. You’re still tense.”

I sat, sword resting across my knees, Sköll settling beside my feet. The bench was warm from the sun, but her presence was calming. Still. Like the eye of a storm.

Elaris pulled a small cloth bundle from her bag and unwrapped it carefully—small slices of fruit, a piece of bread, and some dried meat. She offered me a piece of the fruit.

I hesitated.

She nudged it toward me. “You can’t train all day on pride and adrenaline.”

I accepted it. “Thanks.”

As I ate, I stole a glance at her hands—slender, calm, unshaking. The kind of hands you’d trust with something fragile. Words. Memories. Magic.

She noticed me staring.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re… good at this,” I said. “Being here. Among people. You make it look easy.”

“I’ve been preparing for this my whole life,” she said simply. “You’ve been surviving. Different kinds of training, I suppose.”

I nodded, chewing quietly.

“Besides,” she added after a pause, “it’s not as easy as it looks. I just… don’t show the cracks.”

Our eyes met again. No games. No judgment.

Just understanding.

Behind us, Toren was trying—and failing—to juggle three apples, while Caelan muttered incantations to try and magically “nudge” them mid-air. Seraphine watched with the expression of someone debating whether to intervene or let natural consequences do their work.

“You’re lucky,” Elaris said suddenly.

I turned to her. “Lucky?”

She nodded toward Sköll. “To have someone who’d fight for you without question. Most people never get that.”

I looked down at him. He was dozing now, but I knew he’d heard every word.

“…He saved my life before I even understood what bonding meant,” I said quietly. “Now, it feels like I don’t have to speak for him to know what I need.”

Elaris smiled again—small, distant. “That’s how you know it’s real.”

I wanted to say more. Ask her something. But before I could, a distant chime echoed across the courtyard—magical, musical, signaling the end of the lunch break.

Elaris rose, brushing crumbs from her skirt. “Time to be students again.”

I stood with her, but something about the moment lingered—like a thread pulled taut between us, thin but growing stronger.

We walked back toward the academy side by side.

Neither of us said a word.

But it didn’t feel like silence.

It felt like trust.

The last class of the day faded into memory—blurred by fatigue and muscle soreness. My shoulders ached from the duel, and even my fingers felt stiff from all the forms Kael had drilled into us before letting us go.

He never said a word to me.

But I felt him watching.

For once, Sköll wasn’t with me. I’d told him to stay behind with Rias—to make sure she got to the dorms safely.

Now, every shadow felt too long… every breeze too cold.

The sun had dipped low behind the floating peaks above, casting the academy in hues of gold and violet. The light bled away from the stone path ahead of me, and with it, the illusion of safety.

I should’ve felt peace.

But I didn’t.

My steps slowed as I passed the edge of the training fields, where the manicured hedges gave way to a sparse row of trees. The wind stirred the leaves gently—but something about the movement felt… off.

That’s when I saw it.

A silhouette.

Tall. Still. Motionless between two tree trunks. Not cloaked in darkness—just standing in it. Watching.

My heart skipped.

I blinked—gone.

The trees rustled, but nothing emerged. No footsteps. No sound.

I forced myself to walk. Not fast. Not slow. Just steady.

It wasn’t until I reached the dorm steps that I paused again. The wind had died. The sky was dim. And the weight behind me still pressed down on the back of my neck.

I turned once more. The path behind me was empty.

But the cold remained.

And then—

A breath. Right beside my ear.

Soft. Icy. Familiar.

A whisper followed, velvet-smooth and laced with something ancient.

“You carry the scent of two things, little heir…”

“Death… and defiance.”

“Let’s see which one gets to keep you.”

My blood turned to ice.

I spun around, hand snapping to the hilt of my sword.

Nothing.

No one.

Only silence and shadow.

But I knew that voice.

The Lady in Black…

She hadn’t just found me that day in the alley.

She’d never left.

And now she wanted me to know—

She was still watching.