Adom stared at Naia's outstretched hand. Time seemed to slow as his brain processed what was happening.

Being singled out wasn't unusual for him, but being challenged to a duel by a Tirajin diplomat's daughter on her first day? That was new.

The entire room had gone completely silent. He could practically feel the weight of everyone's stares boring into his back.

The logical part of his mind—the part that had survived decades of experience condensed into memories that sometimes felt like someone else's life—assessed the situation clinically. Combat-capable species. Unknown magical affinity. Probable diplomatic training.

But the thirteen-year-old part of him—the part that still sometimes forgot he was actually eighty—felt a simple, undeniable spark of curiosity.

What's her angle?

Naia hadn't moved. Her hand remained extended, amber eyes fixed on his with an intensity that suggested she wouldn't be deterred easily. The slight curl at the corner of her mouth hinted that she might be enjoying his hesitation.

Adom mentally shrugged. What the hell. He'd faced far worse than an impromptu duel with a mysterious foreign student.

"Sure," he said, taking her hand. Her grip was firm, her skin surprisingly warm—warmer than any human's would be.

The collective gasp that followed made him wonder if he'd accidentally agreed to something more serious than a supervised classroom duel. Very dramatic.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Sam hissed beside him, but his friend's tone lacked real alarm. It was more the obligatory protest of someone who'd long since accepted that Adom would do exactly as he pleased. "You don't know anything about her abilities."

"That's rather the point of a duel, isn't it?" Adom replied quietly.

Naia's smile widened, revealing more of those delicate fangs. "I'm glad," she said, her voice carrying just enough to be heard by the nearby rows. "I worried you might be a coward."

"Ha!" Adom couldn't help but chuckle at that. "I think caution and cowardice aren't the same thing," he said, rising from his seat.

He stood, and suddenly became acutely aware of just how tall she was. The top of his head barely reached her shoulder. At thirteen, his body had barely hit the growth spurt that would eventually bring him to his adult height. Naia, meanwhile, easily topped six feet, her slender frame making her appear even taller.

"Sylla, sit down!"

"Are you insane?"

"She'll crush you!"

The comments drifted up from various parts of the room. Adom ignored them as he gestured for Naia to lead the way down to the arena floor.

As they descended the steps, she leaned slightly closer. "I've heard quite a bit about you, you know," she said conversationally, as if they were discussing the weather rather than preparing to fight. "Commander Sylla's son. The boy who survived a high-ranked dungeon."

Adom raised an eyebrow.

"They say you emerged with white hair," she continued. Her eyes flicked to the stark white streak that ran through his otherwise dark hair. "Though I confess I expected it to be more... complete. I imagined your entire head turned white from whatever horrors you witnessed."

"Sorry to let you down," Adom said dryly. "I'll try for a more theatrical trauma next time."

That surprised a laugh out of her—a light, elegant sound that seemed at odds with her imposing appearance. "You're funny. I wasn't expecting that."

They reached the arena floor, their footsteps echoing slightly on the polished stone. The space seemed larger from down here, the tiered seating rising around them like the walls of a pit. Every face was turned toward them, every conversation hushed.

"I do appreciate your willingness to accept my challenge," Naia said, her tone shifting to something more formal. "It's refreshing to meet someone who doesn't immediately assume I'm to be feared or avoided."

"Is that what usually happens?" Adom asked, genuinely curious.

A flicker of something—annoyance? resignation?—crossed her features before her composure returned. "Let's just say your classmates' reactions were not unexpected."

Professor Crowley appeared beside them, crystal amulets in hand. "Since you two seem eager to provide our first demonstration, let's proceed." He handed them each a protection amulet. "Place these around your necks."

Adom slipped the crystal over his head, feeling the cool weight of it against his chest. It hummed faintly, responding to his proximity.

"Remember," Crowley addressed them both, but his eyes lingered on Naia, "this is a controlled exercise. The objective is demonstration of skill and adaptability, not injury."

Naia nodded respectfully. "Of course, Professor."

"The rules are simple," Crowley announced, loud enough for all to hear. "Combat continues until one participant yields, is rendered incapable of continuing, or until I determine further engagement would serve no educational purpose." He stepped back, gesturing to opposite sides of the arena. "Take your positions. When I signal, you may begin."

As they separated, Naia rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. Her tail flicked with what appeared to be excitement, and when their eyes met across the arena, she winked at him.

Adom responded with a slight nod and a small smile of his own.

From across the arena, Naia took her position with the poised confidence of someone thoroughly trained in formal combat. Her posture was perfect, her expression composed.

Crowley raised his hand, preparing to give the signal.

The room held its breath.