Chapter 6: The First Strike
1346 Words
Three days after the Sorting Ceremony, Lysander had settled into the rhythm of Academy life. His display during the sorting had earned him a mixture of respect and suspicion from his Arcanum faction mates, though none dared challenge him directly yet.
"Combat training begins today," Marcus announced, returning from breakfast with a nervous expression. "Professor Blackfire is known for his... intensity."
Lysander looked up from the magical theory text he'd been studying. "Worried about keeping up?"
"With Arcanum students? Absolutely." Marcus sat on his bed, running his hands through his copper hair. "Some of these people have been training since they could walk."
"Then we'll train harder," Lysander replied simply, closing his book. In his previous life, he'd struggled in early combat classes due to his blocked magic. This time, he knew what to expect.
The combat training grounds occupied the Academy's northern quadrant, a large amphitheater surrounded by protective barriers. Students from all factions gathered in the center, arranged by year and magical affinity.
Professor Blackfire lived up to his reputation—a tall, scarred man whose presence commanded immediate attention. His Ignis affinity was legendary, and his teaching methods were notoriously harsh.
"First-year students," he barked, his voice carrying easily across the grounds. "Today you learn that pretty magical displays mean nothing in real combat. You'll work in pairs, demonstrating basic offensive and defensive techniques."
Lysander scanned the assembled students, noting which ones bore the subtle markers he'd learned to recognize in his previous life. There—two third-year students wearing Ignatius faction colors, but their posture and equipment suggested military training far beyond Academy standards.
His suspicions were confirmed when Professor Blackfire announced the pairings.
"Prince Lysander," the professor called, his tone carefully neutral. "You'll partner with Cadet Viktor from the third-year class. Advanced student pairing to... challenge your development."
Viktor stepped forward—tall, muscled, with the bearing of someone accustomed to violence. His companion, Cadet Roth, was assigned to Marcus. Both wore expressions of barely concealed anticipation.
"This isn't standard protocol," Marcus whispered as they moved to their designated training circles.
"No," Lysander agreed quietly. "It isn't."
In his previous timeline, this "accident" had left him hospitalized for two weeks with severe magical burns. The investigation had concluded it was an unfortunate training incident caused by mismatched skill levels.
Viktor drew his practice blade—supposedly dulled for training, though Lysander could see the subtle edge that remained. "Honor to train with royalty, Your Highness," he said with false deference.
"The honor is mine," Lysander replied, taking his position in the combat circle.
"Begin!" Professor Blackfire commanded.
Viktor moved immediately, faster than a regular Academy student should have been capable of. His blade swept toward Lysander's shoulder—aimed to cause serious injury while appearing accidental.
But Lysander was ready.
He sidestepped the attack with precise timing, having seen this exact sequence three years ago. Viktor's momentum carried him forward, and Lysander's practice blade found the gap in his defense, striking the pressure point at the base of his neck.
Viktor stumbled, genuinely surprised by the failed prince's unexpected competence.
"Lucky dodge," Viktor growled, raising his blade again.
This time he channeled Ignis magic, flames wrapping around his weapon despite the training restrictions against lethal force. The heat distortion made his movements harder to track as he pressed a renewed attack.
Lysander gave ground, appearing to struggle while carefully maneuvering Viktor into position. In his peripheral vision, he could see Marcus faring poorly against Roth, who was using similar overwhelming tactics.
Viktor's flaming blade swept toward Lysander's face in what would look like an overzealous training move. At the last second, Lysander ducked low and swept Viktor's legs, sending the larger student crashing to the ground.
The impact jarred Viktor's concentration, and his magical flames sputtered out. Lysander's practice blade was at his throat before he could recover.
"Yield," Lysander said quietly, loud enough for the observing students to hear.
Viktor's eyes blazed with fury, but he had no choice. "I yield."
A few students applauded, though most watched in stunned silence. The failed prince had just defeated a third-year student in single combat.
Lysander helped Viktor to his feet with apparent good grace. "Well fought," he said, playing the role of gracious victor while keeping his voice low enough that only Viktor could hear his next words: "Tell Crown Prince Darius that accidents can happen to anyone."
Viktor's face went pale as he realized his mission had not only failed but been identified.
"Marcus!" Lysander called, seeing his roommate pressed hard by Roth's aggressive assault.
He moved to intervene, but Professor Blackfire's voice cracked like a whip. "No interference! Each student fights their own battle!"
Lysander watched helplessly as Roth's blade, also wreathed in flames, swept toward Marcus's unprotected side. At the last instant, Marcus managed a desperate Terra shield—a wall of stone that absorbed most of the impact but shattered under the flame-enhanced strike.
The residual force sent Marcus sprawling, his practice uniform singed and his left arm clearly injured.
"Enough!" Professor Blackfire commanded. "Medical attention for Thornwood. Everyone else, continue training."
As Academy healers tended to Marcus, Lysander caught Roth's eye and offered the same cold smile he'd given Viktor. The message was clear: he knew exactly what this had been.
After training ended, Lysander helped Marcus back to their dormitory. The healing magic had repaired the worst of the damage, but his roommate remained shaken.
"That wasn't normal training," Marcus said once they were alone. "Those two were trying to seriously hurt us."
"Yes," Lysander agreed, settling into his desk chair. "The question is why anyone would want to harm a minor branch Thornwood and a failed prince."
Marcus looked up sharply. "You think this was targeted? Not just... aggressive training?"
"I think," Lysander said carefully, "that some people might see my sorting into Arcanum as unexpected. Perhaps threatening to their plans."
It was as close as he could come to the truth without revealing his reincarnation. Marcus was intelligent enough to draw his own conclusions.
"Your brother?" Marcus asked quietly.
"Crown Prince Darius values tradition and proper order," Lysander replied diplomatically. "My sudden improvement might concern him."
They sat in contemplative silence until a knock interrupted their thoughts. Lysander opened the door to find a young woman with striking silver hair and brilliant blue eyes—Elara Silverwind, though she'd changed significantly from his memories.
"Prince Lysander? I'm Elara Silverwind, second-year Crystallis faction." She glanced around nervously. "I heard about the training incident. May I come in?"
Lysander stepped aside, curious about this unexpected development. In his previous timeline, he hadn't met Elara until months later.
"I wanted to discuss what happened today," she said once the door was closed. "Those weren't Academy students."
"What makes you say that?" Lysander asked, though he already knew she was correct.
Elara pulled a small crystalline device from her pocket—something that definitely hadn't existed in his previous timeline. "I record magical signatures as a hobby. The resonance patterns from Viktor and Roth don't match Academy training. They're military combat mages."
Marcus leaned forward. "Military? But why would—"
"Someone wanted you both injured or worse," Elara interrupted, her blue eyes serious. "The question is whether you're going to do something about it or wait for the next attempt."
Lysander studied her carefully. Elara had always been brilliant, but this version seemed more confident, more prepared than he remembered. Her technological innovations were clearly advancing faster in this timeline.
"What do you propose?" he asked.
"Alliance," she said simply. "You've got political knowledge and magical potential that surprised everyone at the sorting. I've got technology that can level playing fields." She gestured to her crystalline device. "Together, we watch each other's backs and maybe survive whatever's coming."
It was exactly the alliance Lysander needed, arriving earlier than expected. He exchanged a glance with Marcus, who nodded slightly.
"I'm interested," Lysander said. "What did you have in mind?"
Elara smiled, and for the first time since his return, Lysander felt like his plans might actually succeed.
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