The Wager

Knock, knock, knock!

The crisp sound of knocking echoed, and the middle-aged woman at the headmaster’s desk paused her quill, lifting her head slowly.

“Come in.”

Her gentle, refined voice rang out. As the office door creaked open, her elegant face showed no surprise at the visitor, as if she were accustomed to the girl’s arrival.

“Lydia, it’s a rest day. What brings you here?”

Before the girl could speak, the woman asked.

Facing the poised, charismatic headmistress, Lydia gathered her thoughts, her gaze resolute.

“Headmistress, I’m here to request your approval for a duel with Felicia in the next academy tournament.”

She’d lost count of how many times she’d made this request, only to be met with silence or rejection.

“If it’s for friendly sparring, the academy permits competition among students. However, tournament matchups are randomly assigned. If you face Felicia by chance, I won’t interfere.”

The headmistress set down her quill, resting her chin on her hand, her tone calm.

“But, Headmistress, the odds are too slim. Relying on random matchups, I might graduate without ever facing Felicia.”

Leaving everything to luck was too frivolous, especially regarding her master’s matter. Lydia had prepared for this inevitable duel for so long—she couldn’t give up…

“Then carve your path through the competition. Turn chance into certainty. Reach the finals, and you’ll face Felicia.”

The headmistress’s voice carried unwavering confidence, clearly trusting Felicia’s strength. Though the tournament was six months away, she seemed to already see the victor: the elven princess.

The princess of the Elven Kingdom, the Empress’s first heir, known as the Platinum Dawn—an unmatched prodigy, the pride of the elves.

Her strength was unquestioned, her beauty captivating. The pressure of facing such a figure in a fair duel was immense.

After all, Felicia stood above hundreds, even thousands, of prodigies from across the continent—races like the Blood Empire’s third princess, the Dragon God Clan’s holy saintess, and the human dynasty’s eldest daughter…

Each was a formidable opponent Lydia had to face with full effort.

Yet, seeing the resolute girl before her, Melianne suddenly felt it wasn’t impossible. After all, Lydia’s master was that man—a myth who, despite a broken body, created miracles and stood at the pinnacle of human speed.

Thinking of his fate, even Melianne sighed inwardly.

The headmistress rubbed her temples, exasperated, then spoke with a tone of persuasion.

“Lydia, I understand your resolve and how hard it is to accept this. But you must know, Kant violated elven laws, stealing the sacred fruit and endangering royal lives. Under such grave charges, death was his most dignified end…”

In a world of gods and magic, nothing is perfect. Most balance flaws with strengths, but Heaven-Deficients like Kant, born with a missing arm, faced a fatal flaw, especially for someone who mastered physical prowess to such extremes…

“But I only want to win back my master’s remains through victory. Is that too much?”

Lydia’s voice grew low. She knew her master’s fate stemmed from pursuing his desires, but how could she accept such an outcome?

Her master erred, and as his disciple, she didn’t deny it. He’d paid with his life.

Her humble wish was to retrieve his remains, to bury him in his homeland and let his soul rest. Yet, when she first met Felicia and made this request, it was coldly rejected…

She still recalled that first meeting with the elven princess.

Initially nervous, unsure how to face the elves due to her master’s actions, she was surprised.

Felicia, knowing her identity, showed no scorn or mockery. Instead, the elegant princess treated her with warmth and kindness, disarming Lydia’s guard.

She’d thought Felicia, so gracious, would be a magnanimous ruler.

Surely, requesting her master’s remains would be easy. But when she confidently made the request, Felicia’s warm smile vanished, her emotions visibly shifting.

She didn’t get the response she hoped for. Felicia stood abruptly, leaving without a word. Elven maids then politely but firmly escorted Lydia from her residence.

It was clear: a rejection. The elves refused to return her master’s remains. Lydia was furious but rational. Alone, she couldn’t challenge the elven race. Her only option was a wager.

In the arena, she’d challenge Felicia to a wager.

Bound by elven honor, Felicia, carrying her race’s pride, couldn’t lose or refuse a challenge from a lower-status opponent. If Lydia won, Felicia’s character and elven principles would ensure the promise was kept.

“I know my strength. I’m confident, with my trump card, I can beat Felicia fairly in a one-on-one duel…”

Lydia clenched her fists, head bowed, voicing her dilemma.

Everyone has a trump card, and she was no exception.

For this wager she couldn’t lose, she’d prepared hers for years.

But a trump card is singular.

To face Felicia in the finals, she’d have to overcome countless prodigies, many capable of forcing her to reveal it early. If exposed, her chances of victory would plummet.

To reclaim her master’s remains, she needed a chance—a chance to face Felicia without revealing her trump card before the finals.