Reborn as the Archmage's Rival
Chapter 23: Weightless Edge

Chapter 23: Weightless Edge

The morning sunlight was still curling between the academy’s high spires when Ethan, Kai, and Aiden stepped through the polished stone archway of the training hall.

It was the first time Ethan had been inside this section of the First-Year building—not one of the smaller sparring annexes they’d used during class, but a full-blown training arena, reinforced for independent use. It was massive—wide and domed, with carved runes glowing faintly at regular intervals across the floor. The center circle was open, glossy with spell-reinforced tiles, and surrounded by low seating steps and energy-absorption pillars at each corner. The air smelled faintly of chalk, ozone, and something floral—cleansing enchantments, probably.

He’d expected the place to be quiet.

It wasn’t.

Six other students were already inside, grouped at the far side of the room near the central ring. Four of them were sparring—or preparing to—while the remaining two stood with arms folded, watching with practiced focus. Mana already hung in the air, subtle and warm, pulsing with residual magic.

Kai immediately slowed. "Oh, great. We’ve got company."

Aiden sighed but didn’t seem surprised.

Ethan blinked. "I thought we reserved this space?"

Kai shrugged. "Technically, all triad training rings are first-come-first-serve unless booked by an instructor. We weren’t fast enough."

One of the students looked up at the sound of footsteps—and nudged the others.

Heads turned.

And that’s when it happened.

A girl with her dark hair pulled into a braided coil and robes cinched with military precision stepped forward, hands on her hips. She wore a smirk that could cut glass.

"Well, well," she said, voice clipped and smooth. "Didn’t expect to see you here, Prince Darius."

Ethan paused mid-step.

Kai’s posture shifted subtly, more alert now.

"Let me guess," the girl continued. "You got tired of being royalty in name only and finally decided to train like the rest of us?"

Ethan kept his face neutral, but inside, he winced. Right. This world thinks I’m that guy.

Aiden was already standing a bit straighter at his side, eyes narrowing.

"Valen," Kai said flatly. "Didn’t expect you here either. Thought you’d be off somewhere charming snakes."

"Don’t need to charm them," she replied, arching a brow. "They’re smarter than most nobles."

Ethan gave a tight nod, trying not to let his nerves show. "We’re just here to train. Not start anything."

Valen offered a theatrical shrug. "Of course. Why not? The more, the merrier."

The other students were all watching now. Two of them leaned against the wall with casual disinterest, but the other three whispered to each other, clearly noting Ethan’s presence.

He could feel it. The way they looked at him. Not with awe. Not with fear.

With suspicion.

Kai leaned over. "Most of these guys have been in group spellcasting theory with me and Aiden. You’ve been a ghost to them."

"Lucky me," Ethan muttered.

Valen clapped once, eyes sharp. "Actually, I’ve got a perfect idea. Since you’re here to improve, why not start with a duel?"

Ethan blinked. "A what?"

"A friendly spar," she said innocently. "Low-level. Safe rules. No serious damage. You’ve been behind on classwork, haven’t you? This could help catch you up."

Ethan opened his mouth—but paused.

She was baiting him.

And judging from her grin, she thought she’d already won.

"I’ll even make it easy," Valen added, waving behind her. "You’ll go up against Lyon. He’s been top of our offensive spell classes. Very fair. Very focused."

The boy she gestured to stepped forward.

Tall. Broad. Shoulders squared like a born warrior. His eyes were cool gray, and his hands glowed faintly with residual enchantment—a mage-knight build, then. He didn’t say anything, just rolled his shoulders and gave Ethan a long, unreadable look.

Kai muttered, "That’s not an easy fight."

"I gathered."

"I’ll take it," Ethan said before he could second-guess himself.

Aiden glanced at him. "Sure?"

"No," Ethan said quietly. "But I’m tired of backing down."

The others cheered—not loudly, but with enough energy to spark tension. The ring was cleared. Kai and Aiden stepped back.

As Ethan took his place on the opposite side of the ring, his heart was hammering.

This wasn’t like training with Kai.

This was real.

And he was still adjusting to his new body. Still hiding the truth of what he’d become.

Still not sure what he could survive.

But I’m not running anymore.

He rolled his shoulders back, exhaled slowly, and raised his hands.

"Let’s do this."

Ethan took a breath, steadying his stance, feet sliding lightly against the smooth training tiles. Across from him, Lyon cracked his neck once, rolled his shoulders, and gave a slow, deliberate nod.

"You sure you’re ready for this?" Lyon asked—not with arrogance, but calm certainty.

No mana flared. No flashy entrance. He didn’t need one.

Valen stepped into the ring’s border and held up a hand. "Duel rules for everyone watching: single-round, non-lethal engagement. Objective is ring control—first one to be knocked out of bounds loses. No forbidden magics. Mana-imbued physical strikes allowed. No summons or artifacts."

She dropped her hand.

"Begin."

Lyon moved instantly.

Not fast, but heavy. His mana surged into his limbs, and his foot slammed the ground, launching him forward like a fired arrow. He crossed the space between them in seconds, fist glowing with raw kinetic reinforcement.

Ethan barely had time to react.

He twisted to the side—but Lyon was faster than he expected, his fist grazing Ethan’s shoulder with the edge of the blow. The shockwave from it burst through the air, enough to send a ripple through Ethan’s robe.

Ethan backstepped, heart pounding. Damn. He’s fast for someone that size.

Lyon wasn’t done.

He followed up with a low sweeping kick that glowed faintly with runes—anchoring glyphs drawn directly into his boots. A takedown spell.

Ethan did the only thing he could do—he jumped.

But it wasn’t just a jump.

His legs kicked upward, but something in his core shifted—his body lifted higher than it should have, weightless for a brief moment, the air itself catching him as though it wanted to keep him afloat.

Ethan blinked. "Wait—"

"Did he just—?" someone gasped from the edge of the arena.

He hovered—just slightly—before landing softly several feet back, not even breaking stride.

Zephyr.

Even dormant, it was working. Not fully activated, not a full dispersal, but something was responding. Like the wind had taken root in his bones.

Lyon paused mid-step. "What the hell kind of reinforcement was that?"

Ethan didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

Because he didn’t know.

So instead—he countered.

Mana surged up his spine, guided by instinct. He didn’t stop to think. He reached deep into the skill list imprinted in the back of his mind—and chose the one that hummed with recognition, like it had been waiting.

Gale Rend.

But this time... it was different.

Level 2 meant control. It meant volume. It meant power.

His hands shot outward and twisted his wrists like drawing invisible wires. Mana ignited at his fingertips in a swirling arc. The wind responded—first with a whisper, then with a roar.

WHOOOOMM.

The sudden burst of pressurized wind erupted outward in a wide crescent. It hit Lyon square in the chest before he could fully raise his guard, and the entire dueling ring lit up in response.

Lyon’s boots lifted off the ground.

He flew backwards, tumbling head over heels as the spell blasted him off his feet and past the boundary line, slamming into the padded wall with a loud thud. The runes around the arena flickered red once—signaling the match’s end.

Silence.

Pure, unfiltered silence.

The kind that came only after something completely unexpected.

Ethan stood in the center of the ring, chest heaving, hands still half-raised.

Lyon groaned from where he landed but slowly sat up, dazed but unhurt. "...What the hell was that?"

Ethan swallowed and lowered his arms. His fingers still tingled from the mana rush. That hadn’t been a careful, precise cast.

It had been instinct.

But Zephyr hadn’t just made him lighter—it had freed him.

The wind had bent itself to him like it recognized something deeper, something older than spell scrolls and drills.

Kai broke the silence first. "Did... did you just blast Lyon out of the ring with a wind spell?"

Aiden stepped up beside him, voice flat. "And hover. You forgot the hover part."

Ethan stepped back toward the edge of the ring, his legs still trembling slightly. "I... yeah. I think so."

Valen was staring at him now, her arms crossed, expression unreadable. Gone was the smirk, replaced by something tighter. Focused. Analytical.

She spoke carefully. "I didn’t think nobles trained in wind magic."

"They don’t," Aiden muttered, still watching Ethan closely.

Ethan felt his heart kick harder.

He’d just shown them something. Not everything—but enough to shift the balance in the room.

Kai leaned in and whispered under his breath, "Okay, that was... really cool. But where the hell was that during our sparring rounds?"

"Wasn’t ready yet," Ethan said, half-truthful.

Kai raised an eyebrow but didn’t press.

Valen stepped forward. "Impressive," she said slowly. "Though I wonder... why didn’t you use that earlier in the week? Say, during your first few classes?"

Ethan held her gaze. "I guess I didn’t feel like showing off until now."

The crowd chuckled—lightly. Not mockery. Something else.

Respect?

Maybe.

Lyon walked back toward the group, rubbing his shoulder but smiling. "Alright. You’ve got some sting, prince. That was... unexpected."

Ethan offered a hand. Lyon shook it without hesitation.

No tension. Just respect between mages.

That’s a first, Ethan thought.

Valen, however, didn’t look nearly as relaxed.

But she said nothing else.

The rest of the students shifted, whispering and glancing back and forth between each other. The dynamic had changed. Ethan had gone from mystery to threat in less than two minutes.

He’d won.

And not by playing it safe.

Not just because of Zephyr... but because I’m starting to believe I can actually do this.

He didn’t float again. He didn’t trigger the wind.

But the hum was still there.

Still waiting beneath his skin.

Like the sky was breathing with him.

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