Legacy of the Dragon Lord

The tournament had ignited fierce competition, but beyond the battles, something deeper was beginning to stir within the halls of Ardent Moon Academy. Alliances were shifting, emotions were growing volatile, and beneath the surface, tensions were brewing that had little to do with the competition itself.

Shira walked through the academy grounds after another victorious match, the weight of her exertion pressing against her muscles. She and Elias had fought seamlessly together, their synergy unmatched. Yet, as she glanced toward the far end of the courtyard, she caught sight of Lyra standing alone, her emerald eyes fixed in the distance, troubled. Shira hesitated but ultimately decided against approaching her.

Unbeknownst to her, Elias had noticed Lyra's demeanor as well. After a moment's hesitation, he walked over. "You alright?" he asked, his voice gentle but firm.

Lyra turned toward him, startled, before quickly composing herself. "Of course. Just… thinking."

Elias raised an eyebrow. "You've been avoiding me lately."

Lyra let out a soft chuckle, but there was no humor in it. "No, you've just been busy." Her gaze flickered toward where Shira had disappeared down the hall. "You and Shira work well together."

Elias shifted, uncertain of how to respond. "She's strong. We make a good team."

Lyra forced a smile. "Of course. That's all it is, right?"

Before Elias could say anything more, Lyra turned away. He frowned, watching her go, feeling an odd sense of unease settle over him.

Meanwhile, Shira found herself seeking solace in the academy library, the quiet a welcome contrast to the chaos of the tournament. As she ran her fingers along the spines of ancient tomes, a familiar voice broke the silence.

"You always this lost in thought?"

She turned to find Darin leaning against a nearby bookshelf, his usual smirk in place. His eyes, however, held something else—a quiet intensity that made her pulse quicken.

"I'm just... thinking," she replied, mirroring Lyra's earlier words without realizing it.

Darin stepped closer. "About the tournament? Or about something else?"

Shira hesitated. "Both."

Darin studied her for a moment before giving a low chuckle. "You fight like someone who's trying to prove something—to yourself, to the world. It's intriguing."

She frowned. "And you? What are you fighting for?"

His smirk faltered for the briefest second. "That's a story for another time."

Before she could press him further, a loud bell chimed through the halls, signaling the next round of matches. Darin offered his hand in an exaggerated bow. "Shall we?"

Shira rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips as she walked past him.

Little did she know, as the tournament progressed, it was no longer just about the fights. It was about the shifting tides of emotions—jealousy, admiration, longing, and the storm that was about to follow.

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