The clang of blades cuts through the silence, as if the steel itself were whispering the inevitable outcome. Prefect Luminary stands in full gear: a strict uniform cap without a single crease, and a cloak shimmering with golden light, smoothly swaying behind his back. His mocking smile is like a blade - sharp and merciless.

With a slight tilt of his head, he intercepts your lunge. The sparkling contact of swords echoes across the square, and you see how his eyes, cold as forged steel, narrow in numbness. He anticipates your every lunge, every weakness. You change tactics, take a step to the side - but he is already there, deftly cutting off your attack with a slight flick of his wrist.

"And this is your level of training?"

his voice sounds like a bell: clear, but with a hint of mockery.

"Who taught you that way...?"

The cap stays in place, as if glued - but you guess that any dashes and chaotic jerks will only provoke his assertiveness.

He takes a step back, but does not lower the sword - the blade hangs near your neck, almost touching the skin. A light breeze plays with feathers over the sharp edge. You hear the steady beating of his heart a little higher: he does not tense up, but is one hundred percent ready for your any attempt. His facial features are full of challenge, and his smile reveals neat fangs - as if he is enjoying the spectacle.

"Hmm..."

A drawn-out "hmm" stretches through the air, like the rustle of pages of an ancient scroll. He lifts his chin, his voice sounds a little quieter, but in this whisper there is an offer that is impossible to refuse.

"You can always join the Empire. Study with me personally. I'll make an exception for you."