The rooms were far more opulent than those at the Academy estate in Clayton City. From the sheer extravagance of the furniture alone, Luke could tell that a significant portion of the kingdom’s budget had gone into the Royal Academy.

  Just the value of the floorboards alone could probably feed a family for years.

  "What a waste…" Luke muttered, scanning the lavish room. It wasn’t that he disliked luxury—he simply couldn’t ignore the fact that people were starving in the streets not even a mile from the Academy gates.

  "It seems like you aren’t a fan of your room, young master. Would you like me to move my bed next to yours?" Victoria teased, letting out a soft giggle.

  Luke froze. Hearing Victoria refer to him as young master sent heat rushing to his cheeks. What young man wouldn’t enjoy hearing a beautiful woman address him that way?

  "That won’t be necessary," he said, clearing his throat. It took him a moment, but he managed to regain his composure. This woman was bound to cause him a great deal of trouble at the Academy—it was inevitable.

  So how could he prevent it?

  Taking a seat on the edge of his luxurious, king-sized four-poster bed, Luke rested his chin on his hand, deep in thought. His hazel eyes stared at the floor as if it held the answers he sought.

  ‘By making her my servant, I’ve painted an even bigger target on my back. I was already going to face discrimination because of my commoner status—this will just make things even harder.’

  With Victoria’s personality, she wouldn’t handle provocation well. Asking her to endure insults and slights was out of the question—Luke doubted she was even capable of it.

  'So now I have a ticking time bomb for a servant and a target on my back.’ His temples throbbed as a headache began to set in.

  "I’ll just have to wait and see…" Luke mumbled, rising to his feet.

  "Let’s go meet up with Kayson and Sebastian," he said, heading for the door. Master Hail had mentioned that lessons would begin mid-morning, and Luke had no intention of missing the first one.

  Upon leaving the lavish room and stepping outside, they spotted Kayson and Sebastian engaged in conversation with a group of younger men dressed in expensive robes. Their attire alone suggested they were fellow students at the Royal Academy.

  "Your father is a mere Viscount? Then what the fuck are you doing here?" sneered the student at the front, his disdain palpable.

  The young man wore a black robe trimmed with gold, its long, drooping sleeves lending him an air of elegance. His dark black hair was tied tightly into a topknot, complementing his fair complexion and angular features. He was handsome, though his looks paled in comparison to Kayson’s.

  It was like comparing a gem to a polished turd.

  "I am Michael Ring," he declared, jutting out his chin. "My father is Marquess Ring, the lord of Pleiades in the south. Just a single word from me is all it would take to send you back to the shithole you came from."

  Luke frowned. They had only just arrived, and already one of the students was posturing in front of Kayson. Yet, instead of appearing offended, Kayson looked thoroughly amused.

  Placing his hands on his cheeks in mock astonishment, Kayson gasped. “Are you saying that a single word from you holds more power than the Left Minister? My deepest apologies, Master Ring. I’ll be sure to inform the Minister next time I see him.”

  "W-What?" Michael stammered, his head swiveling between the others, clearly caught off guard. "What the hell are you talking about, you idiot? What does the Left Minister have to do with this?"

  Kayson frowned as if genuinely perplexed. “Well, Master Ring, I have a recommendation letter from the Left Minister himself to attend the Royal Academy. If a single word from you is enough to send me away, then that would mean your authority surpasses his.”

  Hearing this, Luke felt a surge of amusement. But it was the look of utter shock and fear on Michael’s face that sent a laugh slipping past his lips.

  ‘Ah, crap…’

  Michael’s gaze snapped toward him, and Luke instantly knew he had messed up. Had he kept quiet, things might have ended there. But now that Michael was humiliated, he was searching for a new target.

  ‘Me and my big mouth…’

  "And who the fuck are you?" Michael sneered, his attention fully shifting to Luke. "You think you can laugh at me, you peasant?"

  Luke noticed Kayson about to step forward, but he raised a hand to stop him. He had gotten himself into this mess—he needed to handle it on his own.

  "My apologies, Master Ring. It was not my intention to laugh at anyone this morning, least of all, your noble self," Luke said, offering a slight bow.

  But Michael was far too incensed to accept a simple apology. His eyes burned with the need to reclaim his pride—he wanted blood.

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  "I asked you a question. Who the fuck are you?" he growled, stepping closer until he towered over Luke. There was almost a full head of height between them, yet Luke did not raise his gaze to meet him.

  "I am Luke Drakon," he replied evenly. "Like my friend Kayson, I am here at the Left Minister’s recommendation."

  The name-drop was intentional. Luke hoped invoking the Left Minister would be enough to make the young noble hesitate—both physically and metaphorically.

  Unfortunately, he had underestimated the depths of Michael’s arrogance.

  "Drakon, huh? Never heard of it. Either your family are minor nobles, or you're a filthy commoner. Either way, you’ll taste my blade today."

  Everything that followed happened too quickly for Luke to react.

  "Blake, be my witness. I challenge Luke Drakon to single combat in the arena by the end of the day," Michael declared, turning to one of the students beside him.

  "I witness the challenge in place of the gods," Blake intoned before shifting his gaze to Luke. "Luke Drakon, do you accept the challenge?"

  Luke blinked in disbelief, struggling to grasp how things had escalated so quickly.

  But when his eyes landed on Michael, he saw the cold smirk playing on his lips.

  ‘This bastard…’

  Everything suddenly clicked into place. Michael Ring wasn’t as impulsive as he seemed—this was deliberate. He had orchestrated the entire exchange to force Luke into a duel, ensuring a scenario where he could kill him. And if Luke refused? He would be branded a coward and a traitor, sentenced to death anyway.

  ‘Single combat…’

  A formalized duel, typically invoked when grievances within the military couldn’t be settled through conventional means. The loser’s life would be left entirely to the victor’s mercy.

  ‘So Marquess Ring is my enemy, huh?’ Luke’s mind raced.

  Anyone who wanted him dead fell into one of two categories—traitors, or self-serving nobles who sought to protect their profits. He had no doubt that the Marquess was just one of many who wished to see him eliminated before he could hand over the gunpowder recipe.

  But which was he? A traitor? Or just another noble clinging to his wealth?

  Either way, the die had been cast. There was no turning back.

  By the end of the day, either he or Michael would be dead.

  Just as Luke was about to answer, the air around them turned frigid. A bone-chilling pressure washed over the courtyard, making his breath hitch.

  His gaze snapped to Sebastian, who radiated a quiet yet murderous aura—but it was the presence behind him that made Luke’s legs feel weak.

  A raw, unhinged bloodlust.

  Michael and Blake turned pale, their bravado vanishing in an instant as they instinctively stepped back.

  “Enough,” Luke ordered, raising a hand. If Sebastian and Victoria lost control here, killing them in the middle of the Royal Academy would bring dire consequences.

  At his word, both of them withdrew their auras.

  "I accept your challenge," Luke declared, his voice steady. "The weapon will be swords."

  He met Michael’s gaze, unfazed. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, we have lessons to attend."

  Without another glance, he turned and walked away.

  It wasn’t long before the rest of his group caught up. As expected, Kayson was the first to speak—his tone sharp with concern.

  “Luke, why the hell did you pick a sword? Wouldn’t a spear have been better?” His voice carried a hint of panic, as though he genuinely doubted Luke’s chances.

  Luke shook his head. “If I want to send a message, the sword is the best option.”

  "I think that’s beside the point," Sebastian interjected. His voice was calm, but the tension in his shoulders remained. "Why did the Marquess’s son challenge you to single combat in the first place? He doesn’t even know you."

  This time, it was Victoria who answered. “This is exactly the kind of danger the young master spoke of. It’s likely the Marquess himself ordered his son to issue the challenge. Even the King cannot overrule a duel once it has been declared.”

  A heavy silence followed.

  Luke glanced at Victoria, inwardly impressed. She had already pieced things together with remarkable clarity.

  But despite that, even he hadn’t foreseen something like this.

  Even knowing he would be targeted, Luke had failed to take the necessary steps to prevent it. He had been too focused on stepping into the Royal Academy, not realizing that his enemies had already been lying in wait.

  The smarter move would have been to wait until the King summoned him. Once that happened, he could have requested a noble title as payment for his contributions to the war effort.

  Even if he had been granted a rank as low as Baron, Michael Ring would have been powerless to challenge him. As merely the son of a Marquess, he lacked the authority to duel anyone of a higher noble standing.

  “This was an error on my part,” Luke admitted with a sigh. “Things will get trickier once I kill the Marquess’s son.”

  “Wait… you’re confident in killing him with a sword? Even though you’re terrible with it?” Kayson asked, his disbelief evident.

  “Who said I was terrible with the sword?” Luke replied, flashing his friend a grin.

  “Just about everyone in the Clayton City Academy. Especially Master Boyd.” Kayson’s expression was completely sincere, as if he hadn’t just thoroughly exposed him.

  Luke felt his eyebrow twitch. “Listen here, brother… with enough practice, anyone can get better with a sword.”

  “Sure, but you’d need at least fifty years just to reach the level of a novice.”

  At this, Luke heard muffled chuckles behind him. Without turning, he already knew who it was—Victoria and Sebastian, thoroughly enjoying themselves at his expense.

  “Well, I’m so glad that my life-or-death challenge is bringing you all some amusement,” Luke muttered, rolling his eyes. “At least we know nothing else will happen for the rest of the day.”

  With that, the group continued along the winding stone path, passing through a well-maintained garden before arriving at a massive ten-story stone building. Upon spotting the sign out front, Luke’s eyes lit up.

  ‘Such a big library…’ His mouth nearly watered.

  It had been far too long since he had indulged in books with his Scholarly Pursuit. Nowhere else in the Marxx Kingdom likely held a collection as vast as this one. For Luke, it was nothing short of the holy grail.

  “Master Hail said the theoretical lessons are on the first floor of the library,” Kayson noted. “Looks like this is the place.”

  They stepped forward, entering through the large wooden doors. What greeted them inside was a grand lobby, reminiscent of the King’s castle. Beautiful paintings adorned the walls, lending the space a refined atmosphere.

  A man seated behind a wooden desk noticed them and soon directed the group to their designated classroom.

  When they arrived, they found a spacious room that closely resembled a university lecture hall back on Earth. Around thirty individuals were already present—many clad in luxurious robes, their fingers adorned with glistening jewelry. It was easy to distinguish between students and their attending servants.

  As Luke and his group stepped inside, heads turned. Some gazes held curiosity, while others brimmed with disdain.

  But the moment their eyes landed on Victoria, excitement rippled through the room. Murmurs filled the air.

  Luke sighed, already sensing trouble.

  ‘Maybe I was wrong… The challenge might not be the only thing that happens today,’ he mused.

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