The practice arena lights dimmed to near-black. The crowd fell into a hush as the ambient noise died beneath the rising hum of the announcement system powering up. A single spotlight cut through the dark, striking the center of the combat platform. Holographic projectors above the arena spun to life, forming a shimmering banner across the ceiling:
IMPERIAL DUEL PRELIMINARY FINALS – FOURTH HIGH SCHOOL CAMPUS. SECTION FOUR VS SECTION NINE
The announcer's voice came through, crisp and amplified—cutting through the silence like a blade.
"Ladies and gentlemen, students and staff, and honored guests from the Imperial Duel League…"
A pause, letting the weight settle.
"We now begin the final match of this year's Fourth High preliminary qualifiers. The victors of this duel will go on to represent Fourth High in the Imperial Duel Southeast Asia Games."
Spotlights flared, sweeping over the stands—then refocused centerstage.
"Representing SECTION FOUR... a pair whose performance has rewritten the expectations of this tournament—"
Crowd noise swelled, shouts and cheers rising from Section Four's side of the arena.
"—defeating the USNA-backed favorites of Section One in under five minutes... overwhelming Section Two in a clean, synchronized takedown... and entering tonight's match undefeated…"
The spotlight intensified, focusing on the tunnel entrance.
"—we welcome the siblings who have turned the battlefield into their domain. The Grimoire Strategist—Celeste Marie Salcedo—and the Modular Combat Prodigy—Sallie Mae Salcedo."
The stage lights surged.
From the tunnel, the Salcedo siblings stepped into the glow.
Celeste walked forward first, her Grimoire CAD unfolding automatically, plates hovering around her in a silent ring—ready, cold, calculating.
Sallie followed behind, one hand in his coat pocket, the other holding his briefcase CAD by the handle like a grocery bag. His boots hit the arena floor with deliberate laziness.
Section Four erupted into cheers.
The arena floor pulsed with soft light as the Salcedo siblings walked side by side toward center stage, their steps echoing beneath the looming stadium dome. The crowd roared, then quieted again as the announcer's voice surged back to the forefront, this time layered with visuals above—match footage looping in fragments above their heads in translucent projections.
"To those just joining us—what you're about to witness isn't just another final. This is the rise of a pair who've torn through this bracket with zero losses, maximum efficiency, and no hesitation."
The lights shifted overhead—replaying their first major upset.
"Quarterfinals: Section Four vs. Section One."
A flickering image hovered above—Amon Reyes and Cassandra Kwon mid-action, caught just before the turning point. Then the playback—Celeste collapsing from injuries, then the trigger heard across the campus:
'Restore.'
A burst of surgical light. Wounds vanished. Mana fields surged.
"In a moment that stunned even the USNA-trained competitors, Sallie Mae Salcedo unleashed a field-deployed healing technique resembling Strategic-Class Regrowth—zero chant, full-body reset."
The image shifted—Celeste rising, Grimoire synced.
Then came the full barrage—the arrow, the synchronized rail-shot, the impact.
"They ended the match with a multi-CAD hybrid rail projectile that overpowered Stars-class suppression spells and broke the arena barrier. Match time: four minutes and twelve seconds."
Applause. Gasps. Even some instructors stood.
"Semifinals: Section Four vs. Section Two."
The next image: Miguel Soriano mid-shield, Evelyn Garcia casting mid-formation. Then came the transformation.
"Sallie's Imperial Haxor shifted forms six times in a single engagement—rifle, blade, scattergun, barrier, flail, then back to rifle. Every configuration coordinated in tempo with Celeste's Grimoire lockdowns. They didn't react. They controlled."
The image froze as Evelyn was launched off the stage by a vector snare.
"They finished the fight without taking damage. Tactical score: 98.7. Execution time: five minutes flat."
The lights dimmed slightly as the siblings reached their starting mark. The visuals faded into the background.
The crowd held still.
"Now they face the only pair left with no public record. No match logs. No known profiles. SECTION NINE—still a mystery."
Celeste adjusted her stance, eyes cold. Grimoire plates shifted in a slow orbit.
Sallie cracked his neck, let his CAD spin once in his hand before catching it. A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Can Section Four hold the line again? Or has the final threat been waiting in silence this entire tournament?"
The lights above shifted tone—cool blue fading into sharp crimson as the arena's central holograms reoriented. The crowd's murmur dropped again as the announcer's voice returned, deeper now, slower.
"Now... the final unknowns."
A low rumble coursed through the stands.
From the opposite tunnel, two silhouettes emerged into the spotlight.
"No footage. No records. No duel statistics logged through open channels. While the rest of this tournament battled under full observation—Section Nine remained unlisted, unrecorded, classified."
The figures stepped into the light.
Rael Ishmael Datuin—broad-shouldered, calm, wearing a reinforced coat layered over combat-weight uniform. His CAD was integrated into a plated wrist-and-forearm gauntlet. No glow. No pulse. Just weight.
Beside him, Eris Mei Yunalesca—silent, slim, expression unreadable. Two black CAD rings floated just behind her shoulders, idle. Her uniform was immaculate. Her steps were surgical.
"Representing Section Nine, these two emerged as finalists without ever appearing in a public round. Their entrance into the bracket was cleared under direct authorization from the Fourth High administration."
The arena dimmed again as the hologram displayed only two profiles—barebones.
---
SECTION NINE
"Both duelists are registered under high-clearance parameters. Multiple rumors suggest foreign joint-training programs, potential NSU exchange clearance, and undisclosed field operations tied to simulation combat units."
On the field, neither spoke. Rael cracked his knuckles. Eris raised her hands, letting her CAD rings snap into orbit around her wrists with faint metallic clicks.
"Their combat style remains unseen. Their capabilities—untested in public arenas."
"And yet... they stand here."
The holograms snapped shut. The lights over the center stage returned to full intensity.
The two teams stood opposite one another now.
Sallie bounced slightly on his heels, rotating his CAD once for no reason at all.
Celeste's eyes locked on Eris's rings. Calculating.
Rael stared straight ahead. Eris's gaze flicked—once—to Sallie.
"SECTION FOUR VS. SECTION NINE IN A GRAND FINALS MATCH OF IMPERIAL DUEL PRELIMINARY QUALIFIERS."
"BEGIN ON SIGNAL."
As the final pre-match countdown loomed in the air above them, a quiet tension took root across the arena. Yet down on the combat stage—where most would freeze into silence, steel themselves, or lock into form—Sallie Mae Salcedo tilted his head to the side, eyeing Section Nine like a kid staring at a closed loot chest.
"Hey," he called out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "What did you guys do in the Eastern Wing bracket?"
Rael Datuin didn't answer. He just adjusted his stance.
Eris Mei Yunalesca didn't blink.
Sallie took a half-step forward, CAD still in neutral configuration. "No really—four slots in the eastern elimination wing went dead. That's not a coincidence. You two walked through it without even a mention."
Celeste stood beside him, voice low but audible. "There were no match recordings. No damage reports. No med logs."
Sallie pointed at them. "No arena maintenance requests either. That's rare. Even we cracked a few walls."
Eris finally spoke—quiet, cold, even.
"We didn't leave a mess."
Sallie's brow lifted, interest sparking behind the half-lidded eyes.
Celeste's Grimoire plates shifted slightly in sync.
Sallie grinned. "So you're clean killers."
Rael's eyes narrowed. "We finish what we start."
"Nice," Sallie said, activating his CAD. It flared to life—soft blue glow, plates rotating into standby. "I was hoping you were just lucky nobodies. This is better."
Celeste's voice cut through clean. "Their formations are military-tier. Minimal movement. Loadout rotation prepared before match start."
Sallie's grin sharpened. "Yup. Definitely not here for school rankings."
He rolled his shoulder.
"You know," he added casually, "I've been bored since Reyes and Kwon. It'd be real sad if all this mystery turned out to be hot air."
Rael didn't flinch.
Eris rotated her CAD rings once. "Then don't hold back."
Sallie flexed his grip. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Just as the countdown reached its final ten seconds, the announcer's voice cut back in—sharp, sudden, halting the match.
"Attention—pause combat timer. Match delayed by one minute."
The arena lights flickered, then dimmed again. Confused murmurs rippled across the stands. Even Celeste paused, brows narrowing slightly. Sallie lowered his CAD, blinking. "Uh… intermission?"
Then the air changed.
A wave of pressure rippled across the field—not magical, not atmospheric, but something stranger. A vertical line of light split the center of the arena, thin and blinding. The temperature dropped. Mana detectors in the audience sections spiked red, and even the automatic wards buzzed at the limit of their sensitivity.
In the center of the combat stage, reality tore.
A massive gate of glowing gold spiraled open—ten meters tall, inscribed with archaic script, rotating glyphs layered atop each other like floating rings of solid light.
The Imperial Gate.
Every student, instructor, and spectator in the building knew the symbol. Knew what it meant.
This wasn't school-level anymore.
From the light, a figure stepped forward—her silhouette crisp, posture perfect.
Gabriella Aurelia Mendez.
Black Imperial officer's uniform trimmed in violet. Cape shifting with the gravity ripples. Mana radiating in disciplined waves from the polished brooch over her chest—an unspoken rank signal recognized across every military branch in the IFRP.
She stood atop the glowing ring of the gate itself, overlooking the arena like a judge observing a battlefield.
The announcer returned, now quieter—more formal.
"Attention all combatants and spectators... we are joined tonight by a special guest observer, dispatched directly by the Imperial Throne."
"A direct representative of the Crown, bearer of the Imperial Gate, strategic officer of the Imperial Armed Forces... please welcome—Commander Gabriella Aurelia Mendez."
The audience stood as one—some in stunned silence, others bowing out of reflex.
On the field, Celeste stared upward, face blank—but her mana field flickered slightly. Recognition.
Sallie tilted his head, curious again. "Huh. That's her?"
Gabriella didn't wave. Didn't smile. She only looked down from the gate's light, her eyes locking first with Celeste's, then with Sallie's, then finally settling on Section Nine.
She didn't speak.
But her presence said enough.
This wasn't just the final match.
It was now officially observed.
The Imperial Gate slowly dissipated behind Gabriella, its golden glyphs folding in on themselves like collapsing armor. The hum of its residual magic faded, leaving a static silence over the arena.
She remained there, standing high above the field on a projection platform now extended from the observation tier. No words. No gestures. Just presence—immovable, unmistakable.
Down on the arena floor, Sallie scratched the back of his head.
"Okay," he said slowly, "why's royalty spectating a high school duel?"
Celeste didn't answer immediately. Her eyes stayed locked on Gabriella's form. "She doesn't attend events like this."
"Yeah, exactly." He looked up at the glowing platform. "That's Gabriella Aurelia Mendez. Imperial commander. Strategic-tier. Daughter of him." He jerked a thumb upward.
Celeste's voice was quieter now. "She was at the Fourth High Quarterfinals. Surveillance data confirmed she was present when Reyes and Kwon lost to us."
"Sure," Sallie said, "but she didn't materialize through a ten-meter gold door back then."
Celeste narrowed her gaze. "Something's changed."
Sallie gave a lazy shrug, though his eyes tracked every twitch of Gabriella's coat. "You think it's about Section Nine?"
"Possibly."
"Or us?"
"Also possible."
Sallie clicked his tongue. "Love being a national curiosity."
The crowd hadn't returned to full volume. Whispers lingered like static. Even the instructors in the upper levels hadn't sat down.
Celeste turned slightly toward him. "She's not here to watch."
Sallie raised a brow. "She's here to evaluate."
Countdown resumed.
T-minus 30 seconds.
Above them, Gabriella's eyes stayed locked on the field—on all four of them.
Celeste straightened her stance.
Sallie's CAD clicked into full standby—rotating, hovering, half-formed with layered modules ready to deploy.
He grinned a little.
"Well. Let's give her something worth watching."
Sallie exhaled deeply, the sigh seeming to amplify the heavy silence, just as the countdown hit T-minus 20 seconds
"Alright..." he muttered. "No more warm-ups."
He dropped his right hand to the CAD at his side, fingers curling into the biometric latch.
Click.
A hum resonated across the floor—low, mechanical, rising in tone. The briefcase began to unfold—not just into a single shape, but into many, its plates spiraling out like a blooming mechanical flower. Gears rotated, lock-slides shifted, and digital glyphs lit up across each surface.
The floor beneath him pulsed once—bright blue light erupting upward in a vertical stream.
MOVING NUMERALS.
CODE LINES.
A FIELD OF FLOATING SCRIPT.
His Imperial Haxor system activated.
Luminous digits swarmed across his combat boots like hypercharged fireflies, their ghostly trails flickering in sync with his pulse. His torso flickered beneath a lattice of glowing data-streams—neon-bright mana glyphs spiraled beside tactical overlays, FPS-style health bars throbbing crimson at his ribs, while weapon diagnostics blinked ferociously like a swarm of cybernetic hornets.
The CAD unit hovered in a humming stasis field, its prismatic components rearranging with the fluidity of liquid metal. Segments locked into place with resonant *clanks*, morphing into a brutish energy cannon ripped straight from a vintage mech sim: jagged plasma coils snaked around a barrel wide enough to vaporize tanks, its silhouette edged with the brutalist lines of 22nd-century warframes. Behind it, the mana forge whirred to life, extruding spell cores in rapid bursts—crystalline matrices shimmering with raw arcane code, each fresh cartridge gleaming like a neutron star plucked from the debugger's forge.
"Combat Mode: Freedom Patch v3.0," Sallie murmured, grinning.
Across from him, Celeste opened her Grimoire.
Whump.
The spellbook shuddered, then *unfolded*—pages peeling back like petals in reverse bloom, each one weightless as ash caught in an updraft. Mana hissed between them, a whispering static charge that made the air taste of ozone and old parchment. The tome rotated, suspended in defiance of gravity, its illuminated pages casting jagged shadows across the ground.
Then—detonation.
A corona of glyphs erupted outward, spinning like a celestial engine. Cuneiform runes and angular spell matrices locked into place, forming a cascading halo of light that pulsed with each heartbeat. The rings hummed as they parsed the battlefield—calculating trajectories, sketching attack vectors in real time, painting the air with the ghostly afterimages of pre-rendered magic.
Glyphs etched themselves midair, hovering briefly before sliding into the Grimoire's pages like divine input.
The air around her shimmered.
Her expression didn't change.
But the battlefield already recognized her presence.
Celeste's CAD was ready. Spells queued. Triggers synced.
Sallie's weapon spun once in his grip. Another module clicked into place under the barrel.
"Let's see if these ghosts from Section Nine can handle a full raid boss," he said, smirking.
Up in the observation tier, Gabriella Aurelia Mendez remained motionless.
But her gaze sharpened.
She saw it all. Sallie's CAD transformed, a modular FPS-inspired hybrid system displaying multi-vector loadouts with mana-coded adaptability. There was no hesitation, no pause, just clean, casual weapon cycling as if he'd practiced in a simulator all his life.
She glanced briefly to Celeste, her Grimoire now casting light on her face like the glow of prophecy.
Two anomalies, Gabriella thought. One chaotic. One composed. Both dangerously aligned.
T-minus 5... 4... 3...
The audience leaned in.
The lights went cold.
2... 1...
A chime echoed.
MATCH START.
The moment the signal blared—MATCH START—the battlefield exploded into motion.
But not from the Salcedo siblings.
It was Section Nine who struck first.
Rael Datuin detonated into motion—his CAD gauntlets screaming with crimson overload, the air itself ripping apart in his wake as he blurred across the stage. A sonic boom of raw kinetic fury trailed behind him, the ground cracking under the backlash of his launch.
Opposite him, Eris Mei hovered midair, her twin casting rings igniting with a thrum of gathering power. Violet mana spiraled around her in twin helixes, each rotation tightening like a crossbow's torsion spring. Her eyes—glacial, unblinking—locked onto the enemy.
Their strategy was surgical: fracture the formation, isolate the vulnerable, end this before the Salcedos could react.
But the siblings didn't flinch.
They didn't retreat.
Instead—they stepped closer.
Sallie shifted, barely a half-pace, his shoulder brushing Celeste's.
And then—resonance.
Their mana signatures fused in a single, seamless pulse, like twin rivers merging into a flood. Celeste's Grimoire snapped open—two pages flaring at once, glyphs spinning out in a synchronized storm before locking into a double-layered spell matrix. The air shivered as the barrier formed, a shimmering lattice of interwoven magic, ready to repel whatever came next.
"Vector Anchor: Dual Track."
"Mirror Sync: Drift State."
Their movement patterns overlapped.
To the naked eye, it was simple—but to trained combatants, it was chaos. Rael's eyes flickered with calculation—and faltered. Their silhouettes overlapped too tightly. Movement mirrored. Spacing zero. Who was casting? Who was aiming?
He couldn't pick a target.
Eris's AI-assisted targeting system pinged red—MULTI-TARGET LOCK FAILURE.
Sallie grinned, raising his FPS-inspired CAD—now shaped like a dual-barreled scattercannon with a glowing rune dial across the top. He whispered, like he was triggering a skill tree:
"Skill Select: Smoke n' Slice."
He fired into the floor.
BOOM.
The spell wasn't meant to hit—it was meant to erupt.
A wave of mist, charged with mana interference, burst upward in a dome. Not just smoke—a spell-jamming smog, infused with directional glyphs keyed only to Celeste's Grimoire.
Eris immediately lost vision.
Rael surged forward anyway—but the mist distorted range, and by the time he arrived—
—they were gone.
Celeste cast in silence.
"Thread Chain: Orbit Bind."
Mana threads burst out from the mist—razor-thin, circling like a net around Rael's limbs. He broke one, two—but the third snapped into place at his ankle, halting him just long enough.
Sallie dropped from above him—scattercannon gone, replaced mid-air with a blade the size of a halberd, glowing red-orange.
"Critical Drop: Sky-Cleaver."
CLANG.
Rael raised both arms in time, blocking with his gauntlets—but the impact still sent him skidding back across the arena.
And still, Sallie and Celeste stayed together. Moving as one. Reacting as one.
The crowd sat in stunned silence.
From above, Gabriella leaned forward slightly, her lips parting for the first time since arrival.
"Interesting," she murmured. "They fight like a single unit… but improvise like enemies."
On the field, Eris recalculated—her rings lighting up again as she adapted. But her lock still couldn't confirm a safe target.
The arena shimmered under the intensity of the duel—not from raw destruction, but from precision. Every action taken by the Salcedo siblings was calculated, timed, and layered like music composed in real time.
Sallie was already deep into his rhythm.
His CAD clicked, spun, shifted—every step a change, every pivot a new weapon. Scattercannon one moment, twin SMG-type casters the next. He ducked under Rael's punch, swept around with a snap-cast spear that detached from his CAD like a summoned relic, then threw it—forcing Rael into defense.
But he didn't stop.
"Weapon Cycle: Zone Break – Cluster Fang."
The CAD clicked again. A quad-barreled mini-launcher rotated from the side module. He fired three shots mid-slide—non-lethal spell rounds, calibrated for crowd control, ricocheting off the vector field Celeste had pre-cast minutes earlier.
Boom-boom-BOOM.
The arena pulsed with light. Rael backpedaled, unable to fully commit to a counterattack.
And from the stands—Section Four, Section Three, even some from One—voices broke through the chaos.
"Did he just—use Celeste's field? That was from earlier!"
"He mapped the vector field—in his head. Who does that?"
"He's not even switching weapons—he's conducting them!"
"Is that a mini-launcher? Where the hell did he get a quad-barrel config cleared?!"
Celeste, meanwhile, wasn't just defending him—she was matching him.
As soon as Sallie's new weapon triggered, she cast a dual-spell tether into the floor.
"Mana Route Sync: Left Spiral."
"Reflector Shell: Sibling Bias – Active."
Her Grimoire spun up defensive glyphs around Sallie—not shields, but tempo locks that bent enemy mana flow. Every time Eris tried to land a beam or predictive spell near Sallie, it twisted mid-flight, grazing just outside the true impact zone.
And whenever he fired—she amplified.
"Disruption Window: 2.2s — Open. Fire."
Sallie didn't need the callout. He felt the timing.
He switched again.
"Weapon Shift: Striker Lance – Gilded Trigger."
The CAD folded again—one side forming a glistening pulse rifle with a wide blade underneath. He spun it once, locked into mid-range stance, and fired a rapid volley. The recoil synced with Celeste's gravity pulses.
Bang. Pulse. Shift. Cast.
One after another.
Rael blocked the first shot—barely.
The second tore through his shoulder guard.
The third—
Slam. Celeste cast a vector knockback from below.
The shot struck just as the vector field launched upward, creating a one-frame spike in momentum. The projectile surged twice as fast—striking Rael's chestplate and flinging him back across the field.
Eris tried to intercept. Her rings cast a lattice field over Rael's body—
But Sallie's CAD was already in mid-shift again.
"Rail Shell Mode: Godspeed Arcade."
A sleek, compact cannon with an arcade-inspired HUD blinked to life on his shoulder. He fired one shot—not to hit Rael, but to disrupt Eris's timing.
FLASH—impact.
Her rings buckled.
Celeste raised her hand, flipped a page in her Grimoire mid-movement, and her spell rotated:
"Cast Return: Echo Path, Sibling Sync."
Sallie's shot bounced off the vector curve she'd set earlier—redirected it mid-flight—
And hit Eris in the shoulder.
Direct.
The arena gasped.
Their movements were fast—yes. But more than that, they were musical. Tempo. Space. Time.
Sallie was the chaos—the shifting frontline that never stayed in one place, never kept one weapon long enough to be read.
Celeste was the rhythm—the pulse that never missed a beat, every spell laid just before her brother would need it.
They just moved. Together.
Up in the imperial balcony, Gabriella Aurelia Mendez leaned on the railing slightly, her cold eyes narrowed.
"They're not just compatible," she murmured. "They're predictive."
And below, Section Nine—silent, methodical, elite—was struggling to keep pace.
Because every time they moved—
The Salcedos were already two steps ahead.
The air in the arena snapped as Rael Datuin—no longer holding back—charged forward with renewed aggression.
His gauntlet CADs blazed crimson, igniting with layered enhancement fields. No more feints. No more control play. He closed the distance with terrifying speed, shoulder slamming through Sallie's last scatterburst like it was fog.
"Combat Mode: Twin Bunker – Core Overdrive!"
Rael roared and swung—double-pulse strike, kinetic overlay laced with mana force. Sallie skidded back under the impact, his CAD folding mid-slide to reinforce into a defensive baton shield, but the shock cracked the ground beneath them.
Celeste reacted instantly, flipping a page in her Grimoire.
"Field Lock: Deflect Axis – Echo Stance."
A forcefield rebounded the leftover impact, giving Sallie a half-second to switch.
Click-click—WHRRR.
Sallie's CAD spun into a bladed caster mode. "Let's try the combo pack."
He ducked, countered—spun—and returned the blow with a mana-charged glaive strike, a swirl of orange light and digital sigils snapping across the screen like a kill streak notification.
But Rael didn't fall back.
He absorbed it.
Then twisted.
One hand snapped upward—his gauntlet firing a compressed burst into Sallie's ribs. Sallie winced but didn't stop. He rolled back, slamming the butt of his CAD into the ground.
Celeste was already casting the next layer:
"Divine Lattice: Tether Phase—Return Protocol."
Sallie's movement pattern reset—teleporting back six meters behind Celeste in a strobe of light. Eris locked onto his new position immediately.
"Spell Type: Starbind – Cross Weave."
Her twin rings blazed bright violet, projecting a multidirectional snare net, closing in.
Sallie's eyes flicked wide open—focused now.
Dead focused.
"Loadout: Anti-Zone Counter – Arcade Splitfire."
His CAD snapped open mid-motion, mechanical plates unfolding with a hiss as two sleek pistols formed in midair—gripped the instant they solidified, as if they had been waiting for his hands. The barrels glowed faintly, preloaded with glyph-enhanced rounds, the chambers humming with stored potential.
He fired five times in rapid succession—clean, crisp bursts that echoed sharp across the field. But these weren't wild shots or hopeful strikes. Each bullet was deliberate, threaded like a needle through the tight lattice of the containment net. He wasn't aiming at the center or brute-forcing a hole.
The rounds traced a perfect sequence, one after the next, targeting micro-fractures in the spell's structure—each shot a piece of an invisible equation only he seemed to see. And with the final impact, the net flickered once, then collapsed inward, folding in on itself like an undone knot.
Celeste enhanced it before the spell collapsed.
"Vector Rebound: Ricoshot Curve."
The shots bounced—ripped through the net's hidden gaps—then slammed into the control rings above Eris's shoulders.
She recoiled, losing sync for just a moment.
Rael didn't flinch.
He broke through the rebound field again, forcing a melee clash with Sallie—
And for one instant—
Gabriella leaned forward.
Because Sallie met the attack head-on.
Not recklessly.
Not with chaotic form-switching.
But with the calm, controlled execution of a duelist who wasn't improvising—but calculating.
His eyes narrowed. His mana field stabilized.
His footing shifted—centered.
He anticipated Rael's move before it happened. Slid under it. Parried. Not wildly. Not theatrically. But deliberately—like someone who had simulated this exact exchange.
And returned it with a perfect counter, the CAD switching forms mid-movement, firing a burst spell without even aiming.
Strike. Block. Shift. Fire. Repeat.
Gabriella's eyes widened slightly.
"…He's mimicking Shiba," she whispered. "Whether he realizes it or not."
From the stands, a whisper passed between two students near Gabriella.
"Is it just me, or is he—"
"Yeah," another murmured, leaning in. "He's using that style."
Someone farther back scoffed. "No way. That level of control? That's textbook 'Ice Cold.'"
A third student's voice dropped, almost reverent. "Like the one from Nine Schools. The ghost tactician."
"They used to call him the Walking Weapon."
"Wait—did he just parry Rael's drive stance?"
"No way. That's a mimic frame. Did you see the counterstep? That's the Irregular's Playbook"
"But he didn't prep it—he didn't cast it, he adapted to it. Mid-combo."
"That's not muscle memory. That's predictive logic—he's reading Rael before Rael even commits."
"Bro, he didn't even look like he was trying."
"He's mirroring—like live-action recording and remixing. His CAD's syncing to movement logic, not just mana patterns."
The rhythm of the duel evolved—less a battle, more a dynamic, shifting mind game.
Rael Datuin tried to reassert control, but Sallie Mae Salcedo had already mapped him.
Every time Rael tried to change the pace—Sallie was there, not reacting, but mirroring.
Rael leapt back, pushing for long range—both gauntlets charging wide burst suppressors, glowing red.
Sallie didn't chase. Instead, his CAD clicked once—
Click. Whrrr—ka-chunk.
The barrel elongated, scope folded from his wrist mount.
Marksman Rifle – ArcPulse Ver. 5
A glowing blue HUD appeared over his eye. He crouched low and opened fire with staggered shots, matching Rael's own rhythm beat for beat. Every spell Rael fired—Sallie returned with counter-pressure, perfectly spaced and timed.
Then Rael dropped low—pivoted mid-stride—and charged.
Mid-range.
Sallie grinned.
His CAD collapsed in on itself mid-movement, then burst outward again—
Spear Form – Strike Pike Delta
He lunged, spinning the spear once, letting the energy tip trace a glowing arc through the air. His movements were graceful, aggressive—but calculated.
The tip caught Rael's knee guard and sent him staggering.
Rael counterpunched.
Sallie let go of the spear.
It soared into the air, spinning out of reach.
Rael blinked.
For half a second, he thought Sallie was disarmed.
He was wrong.
Click. CLANK.
From his coat—a dual-barreled shotgun snapped into position on his forearm mounts.
"Hello again."
BOOM-BOOM.
Point-blank. The shots slammed into Rael's shoulder barrier and detonated a pulse so tight it forced him to blink back defensively.
The spear?
Still spinning. Still falling.
Sallie stepped back into it perfectly—caught it without looking.
Celeste cast a gravity ripple beneath him just as it landed, accelerating the momentum.
He re-engaged with a follow-up sweep, forcing Rael to guard high.
The crowd went wild.
Students screamed from the stands. Instructors leaned over rails. Someone from Section Three stood up yelling, "HE'S FIGHTING LIKE HE'S IN A SCRIPTED GAME!"
Gabriella's gaze narrowed even more.
"This isn't improvisation," she whispered.
"This is design."
Because every move Sallie made wasn't just reflex—it was loadout logic, executed with brutal efficiency.
At long range, the CAD shifted into a rifle, his shots clean and suppressive, denying space more than seeking hits.
Mid-range? The spear configuration slid into place, extending his reach and forcing opponents to guard wide.
Point-blank? The frame collapsed into a scattergun, its blast zones unforgiving. And when they thought they'd disarmed him—when they lunged at a dropped weapon or a faltering stance—he answered with a decoy throw, a punishing counter timed to the exact beat of their mistake.
Nothing was random. Every transformation was preloaded into the rhythm of the fight.
"Did he just preload that scatter into a mid-pivot? How the hell did he time that?"
"That wasn't a guess. That was planned."
"He's not reacting, he's running a playbook."
Another voice, quieter but sharper, spoke up from the row behind. "I think he mapped the fight."
"What?"
"He's not improvising. He's using situation-based loadouts—trigger-response tactics. Like a field AI."
A fourth student leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "That's CAD choreography. And it's not school-grade."
"Wait—did he just bait that disarm? That drop wasn't a mistake?"
"No," the first student muttered, exhaling slowly. "It was a trap. He threw the wrong weapon just to pull the intercept."
And behind it all, Celeste never missed a beat.
"Vector Link: Flank Phase – Path Shift."
"Reflection Shell: Delay Trigger – Active."
"Grimoire Override: Passive Amp 30%."
She didn't just support—she created opportunities.
Every time Rael managed to find his footing, Celeste was already there—dropping a gravity zone beneath his heels or lacing the ground with a momentum snare that stole the speed from his next step. His movement never caught up. Every recovery became another trap. And Eris, desperate to reestablish her CAD link, could barely lift her arm before a disruptor glyph bloomed midair, slicing through her casting queue and shattering the spell before it ever took shape.
And Sallie—
Sallie didn't press the attack.
He played.
He slipped through openings like he'd memorized them, like the entire match was a boss battle he'd already beaten a dozen times. His movement was smooth, never rushed, always a step ahead of the rhythm his opponents were chasing. Every weapon swap landed with perfect timing—rifle, blade, scatter, axe—one into the next, not for show, but because each form had a purpose, and he knew when to use it.
Clang—click—boom—slice—reload—grin.
He was smiling now. Not mockingly. Not out of arrogance. Just like a gamer who finally found the challenge fun.
And Rael?
Rael was sliding backward. Literally and tactically. His ground was shrinking. His responses slower. His stance collapsing. One more move, maybe two, and he'd be out of space—boxed in by casting zones, flanked by a storm of shifting steel.
He was losing control.
The arena shook with layered combat echoes—flashes of light, glyphs, spellfire, and the unrelenting tempo of the Salcedo siblings' synchronicity.
Rael was breathing harder now, gauntlet CADs scorched and cracked from forced barrier reboots. He backpedaled, finally pushing far enough to regroup.
That's when Eris moved.
Her rings spun at full speed—fast enough to blur into twin halos of violet fire. Her mana output spiked sharply as she rose higher above the stage, hands out, casting a large-scale coordination spell aimed directly at Rael's position.
She was covering him—readying support formation, interference cast, maybe even a dual-link restoration loop.
But Sallie had seen it coming.
He dropped low, rolled beneath a debris arc, and in that one smooth motion—
"Weapon Switch: Overwatch Ghost – Highwind Config."
His CAD folded, snapped out again into a long, sleek sniper rifle with a deep metallic clunk—a glowing core of rotating blue runes locked beneath the barrel.
He didn't even aim long.
One shot.
CRACK—BOOM.
The sniper round didn't hit Eris directly.
It passed just in front of her—shattering the open air with enough kinetic force to snap her focus for half a second. Her spell matrix flickered.
"Now," Sallie said softly.
Celeste heard him.
Without hesitation, her Grimoire burst open.
"Mana Script: Wrath Shell – Arclight Comet."
A spiraling sphere of violet-white force launched from her side, gaining speed as it rotated through glyph rings mid-flight—charging as it neared Eris.
Still midair, Eris threw her rings forward to block—but her cast was just behind the timing curve.
The sphere slammed into her shield—
BOOM.
Eris reeled back, airborne trajectory disrupted. Her rings drifted wide as her system tried to re-stabilize.
Sallie didn't wait.
He was already sprinting.
Weapon Form – Cancel.
Briefcase Mode – Reactivate.
His CAD folded in mid-run back into briefcase form, slamming shut with a resonant pulse.
He dashed straight under the falling arc of Eris's descent—and then, with a spin and a yell:
"Hey!"
CRACK.
The crowd barely had time to track the motion.
Sallie surged forward and slammed the briefcase CAD directly into Eris's side—flat and fast, the blow landing with a sharp thud against her ribs just as she reached to re-align her casting rings. Her breath caught in her throat, the force staggering her sideways. A ripple of gasps swept through the arena, shock crackling through the stands.
But it wasn't just a strike.
The CAD glowed.
Absorption Mode – Active.
Slits along the briefcase's edges hissed open, revealing narrow vents lined with softly pulsing glyphwork. Mana-inscribed tendrils extended outward—delicate, mechanical filaments that wrapped briefly around Eris's exposed casting node. Within seconds, a stream of data flowed through them—visible lines of code, fragmented glyphs, and spell sequencing pulled directly from her CAD's architecture. Her mana imprint. Her custom interface.
Her own tech—draining into his.
Sallie's eyes glittered as the briefcase vibrated in his grip, its internal processor whirring with synthetic hunger.
Synchroscan – Target: Yunalesca, Eris Mei.
Eris reeled back, one hand still raised, her voice cracking with disbelief. "You're—copying me?"
Sallie didn't answer with words. He just grinned.
The kind of grin that said yeah, and watch what happens next.
He stepped back as the CAD's core chimed softly—an unmistakable tone like a system completing its download. A final glyph locked into place across the briefcase's spine.
New Loadout Acquired: "Phantom Ring Protocol – Beta Sync."
He flicked the latch.
The briefcase snapped open again—not with the grind of metal into a blade or the click of a firing mechanism. This time, the pieces floated.
Two matte-black rings hovered out from the case, rotating slowly in the air before locking into a steady orbit around Sallie's outstretched arms. Their surfaces shimmered with glowing green sigils, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. The design was unmistakably Eris's—her CAD format, her energy signature—but restructured. Remixed. Refactored.
Made his.
Sallie spread his arms, and the rings widened their orbit, syncing to his movement with eerie elegance.
"Cool tech," he said casually. "Mind if I borrow it?"
Then the murmurs started—soft at first, like sparks at the edge of dry leaves.
"…Those are her rings."
"No way. That's her tech. Exactly her modulation pattern."
"But it's his CAD. Look at the pulse rate—it's syncing to him. Not her imprint."
A third voice broke in, sharper. "He didn't just copy her loadout. He rewrote it."
"That's… That's forbidden tech, right?"
"Not technically. If you're fast enough—and if your CAD has scan absorption architecture…"
"He didn't build that in a school lab."
Another student leaned forward, voice hushed with something close to awe. "That's Synchroscan. Real-time loadout override. It's not supposed to be field-viable."
"It isn't," someone muttered. "Unless you've got processor support in the frame—and a reaction time good enough to not fry your own core syncing someone else's spell matrix."
Another silence settled.
Then, slowly: "He yoinked her spellbook and made it dance."
"And he smiled while doing it."
A voice from the back: "He's not just versatile—he's adaptive. You can't plan for that."
"Guys… I don't think we're watching a slacker get lucky."
"We're watching someone who's been holding back."
"…The whole damn time."
"And it's the grand finals," one student whispered, almost like the words couldn't quite form.
"The prelim qualifiers," another added, voice shaking just slightly. "He waited until now to show this?"
"He's been sandbagging. Through entire brackets."
"Why? Why wait until the end to drop a CAD rewrite protocol in the middle of a live match?"
"Because no one watches early rounds," someone muttered darkly. "But the finals? Everyone's watching now. Instructors. Analysts. Scouts."
"Analysists my ass," someone snorted. "He just reverse-engineered a Stars-level CAD interface mid-fight."
A final voice, low and grim, sealed it: "If this is what he's doing at the qualifier stage… what the hell's he saving for the main circuit?"
Eris snapped backward, visibly shaken. Her system stuttered to re-pair with her rings.
Celeste stood still behind him, pages glowing.
The Salcedo siblings weren't just in sync.
They were adapting.
Gabriella leaned forward in her seat, one hand over her mouth in deliberate thought.
"He just hijacked her spell interface mid-fight," she whispered. "He's not improvising anymore."
The crowd was no longer just watching—they were leaning forward, breath held, silent, utterly captivated.
In the center of the arena, Sallie stood with Eris's stolen ring-CAD replicas hovering at his shoulders, pulsing with green and violet energy. The moment they activated, new glyphs etched themselves across his HUD. Custom-coded functions, unique to Eris's dual-phase spell rotation system, now restructured into his own.
And he didn't keep it for himself.
"Buff Transfer: Target—Celeste Marie Salcedo."
The rings rotated once more, then broke into light, launching a stream of condensed mana from Sallie's CAD toward his sister. The beam wrapped around her Grimoire like a vine of luminous script.
Celeste didn't flinch.
Her Grimoire exploded open—six pages at once fluttered outward, glowing with renewed fury.
"Mana Inheritance Confirmed. Initiating Buff Sync—Override Mode."
Her glyphs doubled in size.
Speed. Recovery. Spell layering.
Everything Eris had built for herself was now flowing through Celeste's spell channels—refined, amplified, perfected.
Sallie lowered his briefcase back into his left hand, now humming, still hot from overdrive. He cracked his neck once and muttered
"We've got the tools. Let's put them to work."
The tide turned immediately.
Rael and Eris, now both on the defensive, braced for the last stand.
Rael's breathing was heavy, gauntlets dented. His stance was still sharp, but no longer confident. Eris hovered behind him, one ring cracked, casting slower now, her output sputtering as her circuits tried to recalibrate what had been stolen.
But the Salcedos were done reacting.
They were closing.
Celeste raised her hand—her spell glyphs glowed in concentric rings, fed by the buffed output Sallie had given her.
"Rift Pulse: Compression Grid."
The floor beneath Section Nine surged—squares of light forming a locking field that boxed Rael and Eris into a corner of the arena, mana density compressing around them.
Eris fired a desperation burst to counter the lock.
Sallie's briefcase snapped forward.
"Absorb. Reflect."
Her spell struck—was sucked into the briefcase, and instantly fired back through one of Sallie's ring-CADs—recolored, re-coded, stronger.
It slammed into the barrier right in front of them and crashed it shut.
Rael roared and charged—a final punch.
Sallie met him halfway.
"Loadout Shift: Siege Gauntlet – Hollow Smash."
His CAD wrapped around his arm in a plated gauntlet, glowing at the knuckles.
CRACK.
They collided mid-air, shockwaves rippling out.
Rael staggered.
Celeste stepped into her final cast.
"Starfall Vector: Gravity Reversal—Dual Arc."
The mana behind her pulsed like a storm. Two glyph circles formed high above the field—blinding light crackled as gravitational force twisted the air.
"Launch," she said.
And they did.
A twin spiral of compressed kinetic force dropped from above, slammed into Section Nine's boxed-in corner, and detonated like a controlled implosion.
BOOM.
Rael and Eris were launched backward—legs folding, shields collapsing.
They hit the far wall.
Hard.
The arena's boundary shield flared red—then flickered—then dimmed.
OUT OF BOUNDS.
MATCH END.
VICTORY: SECTION FOUR – SALCEDO, CELESTE MARIE & SALCEDO, SALLIE MAE.
The crowd didn't cheer immediately.
They froze.
Then—
Explosion.
Applause, shouting, stomping, whistling—students leaping to their feet, instructors standing without realizing. Even rival sections who'd once doubted them were now screaming their names.
Angela stood at the glass, pounding her fist on the railing. "You maniacs! You beautiful, terrifying freaks!!"
Sallie stood panting, one hand on his hip, the other holding the smoking briefcase. He looked toward his sister.
Celeste calmly shut her Grimoire, the light fading around her.
Gabriella Aurelia Mendez, still watching from above, slowly nodded to herself.
"They didn't win by power," she said.
"They won by domination."
As the arena lights returned to full brightness and the combat fields powered down, a new banner shimmered into view high above the audience. The crowd slowly hushed again, attention drawn upward to the central holoscreen as the announcer's voice returned—now solemn, ceremonial, echoing across every speaker in the practice dome.
"Attention, all spectators and students—please rise."
Everyone stood.
The lights dimmed just enough to cast focus on the stage—on the two figures still standing amidst the haze and echoes of their final battle.
Sallie Mae Salcedo, bruised but upright, his briefcase CAD hanging at his side like a veteran's blade.
Celeste Marie Salcedo, quiet, composed, her Grimoire sealed and glowing faintly at her side.
The announcer continued—his tone now formal, no longer energetic like earlier rounds, but deep with authority.
"By official authority of the Imperial Duel Federation and Fourth High Campus, and under observation by Crown Command via Imperial Delegate Gabriella Aurelia Mendez—"
Spotlights swiveled upward to the balcony where Gabriella stood, unmoving, her cape fluttering gently in the high altitude airflow.
"—it is hereby declared that the winners of this match—Section Four, Salcedo Celeste Marie and Salcedo Sallie Mae—are to represent Fourth High School in the upcoming Imperial Southeast Asian Games, under the Imperial Duel 2v2 Division."
A burst of gold light shimmered across the holoscreen.
"As representatives of the Imperial Federal Republic of the Philippines, and ward-school champions of Fourth High, they shall stand as official duelists against the selected elites of the Greater SEA Territories—including academies from conquered and integrated states under IFRP governance."
The audience thundered into cheers—every section now clapping, some still stunned into disbelief, but all now united in one truth
The Salcedo Siblings were going to the Games.
Angela leapt from her seat, screaming loud enough to echo past the crowd
"They're in!! THAT'S OUR SCHOOL UP THERE!!"
Shiori wept silently while live-streaming. Hector threw his jacket in the air.
Even Fuyumi, arms crossed, simply whispered, "...Tch. Show-offs," but couldn't hide the faint smirk.
On stage, Sallie looked up at the screen, saw his name next to Celeste's, and scratched his head.
"Welp," he muttered. "Guess I have to pack."
Celeste glanced over at him, dry as ever. "Don't forget your charger this time."
He smirked, lifting the briefcase slightly. "Nah. Got everything I need right here."
As the official announcement echoed through the arena speakers, a shockwave of gasps rippled across the bleachers. The students—Section One to Section Nine—who had once whispered, doubted, or outright dismissed the Salcedo siblings as misfits or outliers, now sat in stunned disbelief.
"They're… they're really going."
"Imperial SEA Games. That's not a school match. That's national stage."
"They're representing us."
From the Section Four bleachers, the celebration ignited instantly.
Angela was practically vibrating, hands to her face, screaming:
"THEY'RE OUR NATIONAL DUELISTS!"
Hector, jumping up and down, shouted, "Bro—Section Four's in the HISTORY BOOKS NOW!"
Shiori, clutching her tablet with both hands, recorded a shaky live reaction stream. "This is real—this is official!"
Even the cold-hearted Section One cadets, including Reyes and Kwon, exchanged wide-eyed glances.
"They beat us… and now they're going to the Imperial Games," Kwon muttered, almost with awe.
Amon Reyes exhaled slowly, folding his arms. "No shame in losing to champions."
Other sections weren't sure how to process it.
Section Two's Evelyn stared at the floor. "All this time... and they were walking among us."
Section Five's dueling captain muttered, "I thought he was just lazy... and now he's national-class."
Students across the arena pointed toward the stage, where Sallie stood scratching the back of his head like he hadn't just won the most important match of the year. Celeste, as poised and collected as ever, calmly dusted her sleeves like the battlefield had been a formality.
Someone shouted from the Section Seven seats:
"THEY'RE GONNA FIGHT OTHER NATIONS! WITH THAT CRAZY BRIEFCASE!"
"AND THAT SPELLBOOK! SHE CAST LIKE TEN SPELLS AT ONCE!"
A wave of disbelief turned into a roar of pride.
"SECTION FOUR, REPRESENT!"
"LET'S GO, CELESTE! LET'S GO, SALLIE!"
"PHILIPPINES STAND UP!"
It didn't matter what section they were from anymore.
The Salcedo siblings weren't just Fourth High's chaos duo.
They were now national contenders.
And everyone—everyone—would remember this day.
Still standing at center stage beneath the lingering echoes of celebration, Sallie Mae Salcedo let out the longest, most unapologetic yawn of the night.
He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye with the sleeve of his slightly scuffed coat, slung his briefcase CAD lazily over one shoulder, and looked skyward like someone who'd just finished a grocery run—not a national-level duel.
"Whew," he muttered. "Glad that's over."
Celeste side-eyed him without turning her head. "It's not over."
He blinked at her. "What do you mean it's not over? We smoked them. The screen literally said match end. Out of bounds. Crowd cheering. That's the signal for 'go home and play FPS.'"
She tightened the clasp on her Grimoire. "There's still the post-duel proceedings. Media. Staff wrap-up. Student council announcement. Possibly press."
Sallie groaned. Loudly. "Ughhh. Social side quests."
"You're a national duelist now. There are obligations."
"I already saved the school's win ratio. That should come with a nap pass."
She didn't respond. She just started walking toward the presentation dais where the announcers and school officials were gathering with scrolls, medals, and lots of cameras.
He stood there, unmoving for a second, then muttered to himself:
"Should've let Rael hit me once and faked unconsciousness..."
Still, he followed, dragging his feet.
As they neared the podium, Angela was waving wildly at them from the edge of the staging zone.
"You better not disappear this time, Sallie!" she yelled. "They're giving out medals and snacks!"
That caught his attention.
"…Snacks?"
Celeste sighed. "If you behave."
He nodded, eyes already glazing over again. "I'll accept that bribe."
And just like that, the Salcedo siblings moved off to accept their place in history—one of them proud and composed…
…the other still thinking about online killstreaks and cheese puffs.
Beneath the roar of the crowd, below the pulsing lights and the celebratory fanfare, there were shadows that didn't belong to the walls or the arena's structural rigging.
High above, just outside the reach of the main floodlights—perched along support beams and sealed observation alcoves—figures cloaked in silence watched the Salcedo siblings with hawk-like focus.
Japanese operatives.
Sent from the Ten Master Clans.
Silent. Hidden. Authorized to observe, not interfere.
One crouched on a steel beam just beneath a ventilation grate, visor glinting faintly under his hood. He tapped two fingers to the side of his temple, activating a thought-based transmission line—encrypted, silent, trace-proof.
"Target capabilities confirmed. CAD variation unlike any local system. Copy-absorption protocol detected."
Another, hidden behind a mana-opaque veil atop the upper scoreboard rigging, whispered into a barely audible microphone.
"Synchronization rate between siblings exceeds known military duo standards. Recommend red-class strategic review."
Inside a disguised maintenance crawlspace, a third observer scrolled through a live spell-recording playback. The briefcase CAD. The rail shot. The vector fields. The mimicry of Regrowth. He paused, watching Sallie's posture, his weapon switching, his deceptive slackness during combat.
He murmured, "He fights like him…"
A fourth agent, hidden just above the southern PA rig, narrowed his eyes. "But he's not Tatsuya."
"No," said the first. "But he's dangerous."
The agents remained silent for a long moment, the arena below exploding with cheers once more as medals were handed to the Salcedo siblings.
"Do we report this directly to the Yotsuba?"
"Not yet. We confirm first. The girl… may be another variable."
"And the commander from the Philippines—Gabriella Mendez—she knows. She's watching them like we are."
A final message crackled through their network.
"Then we'll watch her, too."
And just like that—without a shimmer, without a whisper—the shadows receded.
But they did not leave.
Because now, the Ten Master Clans had a new name burned into their collective memory.
Salcedo.
And they would not forget it.