Several more matches blurred together as Mo's anxiety mounted. Each victory seemed to involve increasingly violent displays of magic, as if students were competing to outdo one another with brutality rather than skill. Mo noticed whispered conversations and pointing in their direction—Nyx and Lucian's unorthodox approaches had clearly stirred controversy among their classmates.

  The knot in Mo's stomach tightened with each passing duel. She found herself calculating the remaining pairs, desperately hoping her turn wouldn't come before lunch when she might have more time to prepare. But just as she began to convince herself she might be spared until afternoon, Professor Ossian's voice cut through her thoughts:

  "Morgana Nightshade versus Valerius Crowe."

  The moment she'd been dreading had arrived. The crowd's excitement reached a fevered pitch as Valerius made his entrance, cape billowing dramatically despite the still air. Behind him trailed three students Mo recognized from their encounter on the first day, each trying to match the confident stride of their leader.

  "And look—he brought his adoring sycophants," Nyx muttered. "How utterly, boringly predictable. Next he'll be autographing their textbooks with 'Evil Wishes, Your Future Overlord.'"

  Valerius caught sight of Mo and smiled, the expression never reaching his eyes. He made a show of examining his perfectly manicured nails before whispering something to his companions that made them snicker.

  Mo stood slowly, her mouth suddenly dry. Despite seeing her friends triumph, self-doubt clawed at her insides.

  "Remember what we practiced," Nyx whispered, squeezing her shoulder. "Ground yourself before each cast. Your power's been dormant, not gone—let it flow naturally."

  "And if all else fails," Lucian added quietly, "ice shield, third form. It'll give you time to regroup. You can do that!"

  Mo nodded, unable to form words.

  "Combatants, enter the arena," Ossian commanded. Then he looked at Valerius's lackeys. "It's a duel, Crowe. You don't need your… entourage here." The professor's face contorted in disgust.

  Valerius dismissed his followers with a shrug and was already gliding down the steps into the pit, each movement calculated for maximum dramatic effect. The runes beneath his feet glowed brighter as he reached the center.

  Mo took a deep breath that caught halfway in her throat. Heartbeat pounded in her ears, drowning out the whispers as she forced her legs to move. Each step down felt like walking toward an executioner's block. The crowd seemed to hold its breath, the silence pressing like a physical weight. Dozens of eyes tracked her—curious, judgmental, hungry for entertainment at her expense. Someone in the back row licked their lips, actual forked tongue flicking out in anticipation. The six-handed girl was accepting the final bets.

  As Mo's foot touched the bottom step, the obsidian tiles hummed beneath her, sending vibrations through her bones like a tuning fork struck against her soul. Something ancient stirred inside her chest—a hot, electric sensation she hadn't felt in years, a power she'd kept caged so long it clawed at her ribs like a feral thing scenting freedom.

  Professor Ossian's voice cut through her thoughts. "Positions."

  Valerius bowed with exaggerated formality, never taking his eyes off Mo. "I've been looking forward to this, Nightshade," he said, voice pitched to carry. "Let's see what humanity has done to your magic."

  Mo said nothing, focusing instead on centering herself the way Nyx had taught her.

  Ground, breathe, connect.

  "Begin on the bell," Ossian said, stepping back.

  The arena fell silent. Mo could hear her heart pounding in her ears. The air felt charged, heavy with anticipation and unspoken history.

  Valerius's smile widened, predatory and confident.

  The bell tolled.

  ***

  The moment the bell's echo faded, Valerius sprang into motion, gliding sideways with practiced grace. Mo mirrored him cautiously, maintaining distance as they circled each other like predators. She may have shirked her magical training for years while integrating into the human world, but she still had years of education before that. It was just that she didn't want to touch that stuff.

  The magic-resistant tiles hummed beneath her feet, responding to the tension building in the air.

  Ground yourself. Remember the basics. Don't let him get in your head.

  Valerius struck first, his fingers weaving an elaborate pattern that sent three orbs of crimson light spiraling toward Mo. They moved erratically, leaving trails of sparks that momentarily blinded her.

  Distraction spell—just like Nyx and Lucian warned her.

  Mo threw herself sideways, narrowly avoiding the actual attack—a ribbon of dark energy that sliced through the space where she'd been standing. The crowd gasped, then cheered at the near miss.

  "You've grown slow, Nightshade," Valerius called, his hands already crafting another incantation. "Too much time pouring coffee for humans? Not enough exercise?"

  Mo's response was a hastily formed shield spell that sputtered into existence just as Valerius launched a barrage of shadow bolts. Each impact sent painful vibrations through her arms, but the shield held. Barely.

  Deflect, ground, redirect.

  Her counter-attack was clumsy—a basic energy discharge that Valerius swatted away with contemptuous ease. He responded with a flourish that made the floor beneath Mo suddenly slick with illusory ice. She slipped, catching herself just before falling, and had to roll awkwardly to avoid the follow-up attack.

  The crowd's laughter stung worse than the magical backlash tingling through her body.

  Valerius was putting on a show, each spell more visually impressive than the last. Swirling vortexes of darkness. Serpents crafted of emerald flame. A murder of shadow crows that dissolved into razor-edged feathers as they dived toward her. His magic was crisp, precise, honed by years of dedicated practice.

  Mo's responses were increasingly desperate. She managed to dispel the crows with a counter-wave of energy, but one feather sliced across her cheek, leaving a thin line of blood. Her shield flickered as she tried to maintain it. Her unpracticed magic straining under the assault.

  "The great Morgana Nightshade," Valerius taunted, casually deflecting her feeble counter-attack. "Dark Lady Nightshade. Hiding among humans, pretending to be one of them. Maybe your family just needed a Dark Lord, like your father? And not…" Valerius made a vague gesture with his hand in Mo's direction. "Not whatever that is? Tell me, did you enjoy serving your natural prey? Did you bow and scrape for their meager tips?"

  Mo gritted her teeth, trying to block out his words. But other thoughts intruded—Grimz's letter about the goblin rebellion, the Council undermining her authority, Julian's eyes watching her from the sidelines. Her concentration slipped, and Valerius's next attack shattered her shield completely, sending her staggering backward.

  "I heard you recommended romance novels," he continued, each word dripping with disdain. "How delightfully domestic. The mighty Nightshade bloodline reduced to suggesting bodice-rippers to bored housewives."

  Something hot and angry flared in Mo's chest. Her next shield formed faster, stronger, the energy pulsing with her heartbeat.

  "At least I've experienced something real," she shot back, finding her voice at last. "What have you done besides practice the same tired spells for instructor approval and enjoying lunches behind the safety of the school's walls?"

  A flicker of annoyance crossed Valerius's face. His next attack came faster, less controlled—a straight blast of energy rather than his usual elaborate constructions.

  Mo saw her opening. Instead of blocking, she sidestepped and caught the edge of his spell with a redirecting sigil Nyx had shown her, sending the energy back toward its caster.

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  Valerius's eyes widened in surprise as he was forced to throw up a hasty shield of his own. The redirected magic collided with his defenses in a shower of sparks that briefly illuminated the entire arena.

  The stands froze in collective shock—a heartbeat of utter silence—before erupting into a storm of excited whispers that rushed through the sitting area like wildfire. Betting scrolls fluttered as odds were hastily recalculated. Someone in the back row shouted, "The barista has teeth!"

  Mo didn't wait. Following Nyx's advice from last night, she pressed her advantage with a quick combination—a feint to his left followed by a compressed energy bolt aimed at his right side.

  The feint missed, but the bolt connected, staggering Valerius slightly. It wasn't enough to cause real damage, but he looked at her with something other than contempt for the first time since the duel began.

  "Perhaps you've picked up some tricks after all," he said, adjusting his stance. "Though I wonder where a barista learned to redirect combat magic."

  Mo felt a surge of confidence. Her magic flowed more naturally now, responding to her will rather than fighting against years of suppression. She crafted another shield, which formed instantly, its surface rippling with barely contained power.

  "I've had excellent teachers," she replied, thinking of Nyx's demonstrations and Lucian's instructions.

  For a brief moment, as she settled into a more confident stance, Mo thought she might actually have a chance. The magic humming through her veins felt more potent with each passing second, awakening after its long dormancy.

  Valerius sensed the shift. His expression hardened, all pretense of casual superiority vanishing. "Enough warming up, then," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register.

  His hands moved in complex patterns, drawing sigils that burned black against the air. The temperature in the arena plummeted, frost forming on the flooring tiles.

  Mo drew a deep breath, centering herself for what was coming. For a fleeting moment, her eyes found Julian in the crowd. He was watching intently, his expression tense but encouraging.

  She could do this. She had to.

  Valerius completed his incantation, and the real duel began.

  ***

  Valerius's attack came in waves of increasing intensity—first, a barrage of spectral daggers that Mo deflected with a sweeping gesture, then a crushing gravitational field that made her knees buckle before she dispersed it. The audience leaned forward in their seats, suddenly invested in a duel that was proving more competitive than expected.

  Mo's breath came in short gasps as she maintained her defense. Her earlier confidence was short-lived. It faded under the relentless assault. But still, she refused to yield. Mo needed something more, something unexpected.

  Combine the techniques. Use Lucian's ice shield to create a reflective surface, then layer Nyx's energy redirection...

  She began crafting the complex spell, drawing frost magic from the air while simultaneously forming the sigils for energy redirection. It was ambitious, far beyond what she'd managed in practice, but desperation pushed her forward.

  "Getting tired, Nightshade?" Valerius called, gathering darkness between his palms. "No coffee breaks in the arena."

  Mo ignored the taunt, focusing instead on the intricate magical weaving. The shield began to form—a crystalline structure that caught the light like diamond facets. She layered Nyx's protections atop it, feeling the magic intertwine.

  But something was wrong. Unlike Lucian's elegant ice structures that flowed like liquid crystal, Mo's attempt at frost magic felt brittle and unyielding. The crystalline shield resisted bonding with the energy redirection sigils, creating hairline fractures instead of the seamless fusion she needed. What Lucian had made look effortless was clearly the product of years mastering his element—patience and precision Mo simply hadn't had time to develop.

  Mo pushed harder, forcing the disparate elements together through sheer will.

  Just hold together. Please.

  A flicker of movement in the spectator area caught her eye—Nyx was shaking their head slightly, a warning in their expression. But it was too late to stop.

  As Valerius launched his next attack—a concentrated beam of dark energy aimed at her chest—Mo raised her hybrid shield to catch and redirect the blow.

  The haphazard magical structure collapsed when Valerius's dark energy collided with her shield. Still, it had performed its function, leading the brunt of the attack away from Mo's core. However, the effects and aftershocks didn't stop outside. Deep within, something long-suppressed shattered its chains. Three years of denied succubus magic surged upward, a tidal wave of power that didn't just flow through her veins—it flooded them, overwriting her hasty spell weaving with a raw, uninhibited desire to connect.

  "No, no, no," Mo gasped, feeling the magic spiral beyond her control.

  Valerius stumbled backward, his perfect composure finally broken. "What are you doing?" he demanded, voice rising. "Control your magic!"

  However, Mo couldn't control it. The succubus power she'd denied for years—power she'd refused to even acknowledge—had finally found an outlet, and it had no intention of being caged again. Energy tendrils, luminous and hypnotic, whipped outward with shocking force. They collided with the arena's protective wards, creating a sound like breaking glass amplified a thousandfold.

  The ancient barrier, specifically designed to contain combat magic, hadn't been calibrated for unfiltered succubus energy. It shattered outward in a cascade of dissolving magical fragments, exposing the audience as waves of Mo's uninhibited power washed over them. Centuries of careful magical architecture, destroyed in seconds.

  Immediately, chaos erupted.

  A boy with antlers suddenly stood up and declared his undying admiration for Professor Ossian's "magnificent bone structure." The six-armed betting girl began writing passionate poetry with three of her hands in three betting ledgers simultaneously.

  "Oh gods," Mo whispered, mortified as she realized what was happening. Her succubus magic was manifesting in its most basic form—inducing attraction and lowering inhibitions.

  But it didn't stop there. The obsidian tiles began to glow with a rosy light, some detaching from the floor to form strange, dancing patterns in the air. They arranged themselves into shifting images—a cozy bookstore cafe, a steaming latte with a heart in the foam, Julian's face looking at her with concern.

  No, no, no—not my THOUGHTS!

  Mo tried desperately to rein in the magic, but that only made it worse. The floating tiles rearranged themselves again, showing Valerius as she'd secretly seen him years ago—before their rivalry, when she'd briefly admired his dedication to magic.

  "Is that... me?" he asked, temporarily forgetting the duel as he stared at the image.

  Mo wanted to dissolve, to evaporate, to sink through the impenetrable black floor and keep falling until she reached the center of this world. A lifetime of carefully constructed walls crumbled as everyone—classmates, professors, Julian, and worst of all, Valerius—watched her most private thoughts, dreams, and embarrassing moments play out in vivid magical projection.

  It wasn't yet a defeat. But in so many ways, it was so much worse. It was complete exposure. Soul-naked in front of everyone who'd ever doubted her.

  "Make it stop!" someone shouted as a chair decided it wanted to court its occupant.

  Professor Ossian stepped forward, attempting to contain the magical chaos with a barrier spell. It dissolved on contact with Mo's wild magic, transforming into a shower of flower petals that drifted down over his scowling face.

  In the center of it all, Mo stood frozen, watching in horror as her magic continued to wreak havoc. A bubble floated past, showing her fighting back tears after a particularly brutal training session with her father. Another revealed her secret delight in recommending the perfect book to a shy customer.

  The magic was exposing everything she'd kept hidden—not just her attraction to certain people, but her doubts, her fears, her small moments of joy in the human world. All the vulnerabilities she'd protected were now on display.

  Valerius had recovered enough to attempt to shield himself, but even his practiced magic warped under the influence of the chaotic energy field. His shadow shield twisted into the shape of a heart before dissolving entirely.

  "What kind of Dark Lady are you planning to be?" he demanded, genuine bewilderment replacing his usual contempt. "What is this… charade? Manipulation? Trickery? "

  Mo had no answer. She could only watch as years of suppressed power continued to manifest in increasingly embarrassing ways. A bubble drifted between them, showing Mo practicing villain monologues in her bedroom mirror, complete with dramatic cape swishes using her bath towel.

  Valerius's eyes widened. A startled laugh escaped him before he could suppress it.

  That was somehow worse than his contempt. Mo closed her eyes, wishing she could disappear. Her magic had betrayed her more thoroughly than any enemy ever could.

  "Enough!" Professor Ossian's voice cut through the chaos. He had abandoned his attempts at magical containment and was now simply shouting to be heard over the commotion. "Morgana Nightshade, you will cease this unprofessional display immediately!"

  "I can't," Mo admitted, her voice small. "I don't know how."

  It was the truth. After years of keeping her succubus nature tightly controlled, she had no idea how to rein it back in now that it had broken free. The power surged through her, joyful and wild, exposing her inner self to everyone in the room.

  In the sudden silence that followed, Mo finally looked up to meet the stares of her classmates. Some were still caught in the throes of magically induced infatuation. Others were brushing off flower petals or attempting to recapture animated possessions. All were looking at her with expressions ranging from shock to fascination to secondhand embarrassment.

  Valerius stood across from her, his perfect appearance finally disheveled, a single rose petal stuck to his cheek. For once, he seemed at a complete loss for words.

  "I believe," Professor Ossian began, his voice tight with controlled fury, "that this match is…"

  But Valerius wasn't finished. Something dark and hateful flashed in his eyes as he saw Mo standing defenseless, exposed, vulnerable. A predatory smile curved his lips as he gathered a final, vicious attack between his palms—a sphere of concentrated shadow that pulsed with malevolent purpose.

  "Yield, Nightshade!" he demanded.

  Mo couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't even form a basic shield. But as Valerius launched his attack, something deeper than conscious thought stirred within her. Her succubus magic, already unleashed and running wild, responded instinctively to the threat.

  The shadow sphere hurtled toward her—only to dissolve mid-flight into a shower of crimson sparks. A wave of concentrated energy rippled outward from Mo, striking Valerius square in the chest. His eyes widened in shock before glazing over completely, his expression transforming from hatred to something entirely different—pure, unfiltered bliss.

  Valerius swayed on his feet, a dreamy smile spreading across his face. "So beautiful," he whispered, reaching toward nothing. "All of it... so perfect..." He sank slowly to his knees, arms outstretched as if embracing an invisible lover, his face a mask of rapturous adoration.

  The arena fell completely silent.

  "He's... entranced," someone whispered.

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