Forbidden Mate Legacy

The morning sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the Academy's vast training grounds. A crisp wind carried the scent of dump earth and steel, mingling with tension that clung in the air. Today was different. The trial was about strength, endurance, and survival.

Amelia clenched her fists, steadying her breath as she surveyed the field. Wooden dummies lined the perimeter, their surfaces marred by countless strikes. Training weapons of all kinds were laid out on tables, ranging from simple staffs to elegantly crafted swords.

The trial ahead wasn't merely a display of combat skills–it was a measure of whether they could endure in the face of real danger.

"The rules are simple," Instructor Morpheus announced, his voice carrying over the gathered participants. "You will face an opponent in one-on-one combat. You fight until one of you is disarmed, incapacitated, or yields. No mortal injuries are allowed, no use of power, this goes to Demons and Witches, but do not hold back."

Amelia swallowed hard. She had trained in combat but she knew she was nowhere near Kael's–or even Reanar's. The Demon Prince thrived in battle, his every move a precise calculation of power and destruction. How can one excel in everything? And there was Reanar, the cunning prince of witches, who rarely showed his hand but always had a strategy hidden beneath his composed exterior. 

Beside her, Serah exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders. "Looks like we are in for a long day."

"Just another test," Amelia muttered.

"Or a reminder of how easily we can be broken into pieces." Marcus added with a smirk, adjusting the grip on his sword.

A sharp whistle rang through the air, signaling the start of the trial. The first pair stepped into the ring–a demon elite against a human warrior. The clash of steel against steel echoed across the field as the combatants exchanged blows after blows with deadly precision. Dust kicked up around them, and every strike sent a ripple of excitement and anxiety through the watching crowds.

One by one, more students were called into the ring. Some fights ended in mere seconds, while others dragged on in a grueling display of endurance. The Academy did not expect perfection, but they demanded resilience.

Then, a name was called that made Amelia's breath hitched.

"Prince Kael."

The murmur started immediately. The Demon Prince had yet to display his full strength in any of the trials, he didn't even use his demonic power, but everyone knew he was a force to be reckoned with. 

Even the Instructors watched with interest as he stepped forward. The females however, couldn't help but admire him. some licked their lips, others cast lingering glances, their gazes tracing the taut muscles beneath his clothing, secretly hoping for a chance to catch his attention.

Dressed in fitted combat attire that accentuated his lean, powerful build, His movements is calm, almost too relaxed, as if the weight of the battle didn't faze him in the slightest.

His opponent was a skilled human elite, a swordsman who had earned a reputation for speed and agility. But as soon as the match began, it was clear that Kael was in a different league.

The moment the human lunged, Kael sidestepped effortlessly, avoiding the strike by a mere breath. He didn't attack immediately, letting his opponent grow desperate. When the opponent strikes again, Kael moves like a shadow, his counterattack swift and precise. A single flick of his wrist, the blade flying from his opponent's grip, and with a well–placed sweep, he knocked the human to the ground. 

Cheers followed.

Kael did not gloat. He didn't smirk like he usually does, most of the time. He extended a hand to his fallen opponent, his expression unreadable.

"Next match."

The tension eased, but barely. One by one, the remaining matches proceeded, and soon Amelia knew her turn was inevitable.

"Princess Amelia."

She inhaled sharply, stepping into the ring. Her hair braided, her face sharp as a blade. Her opponent was a demon elite–a tall, muscular warrior with eyes that burned with determination. She knew better than to underestimate him.

The whistle blew.

Her opponent struck first, a powerful swing aimed at her head. She dodged, barely avoiding the impact. He came at her again, relentless and brutal, forcing her to stay on the defensive. Every strike sent her a jolt through her arms as she struggled to parry.

She needed to think. She couldn't overpower him. But she could outmaneuver him. With new determination she held her head high.

Feigning an opening, she lured him into a forward strike. The moment he committed, she pivoted, twisting her body just enough to avoid the blade. In that same breath, she slammed the hilt of her sword against his wrist. His grip loosened. Seizing the opportunity, she kicked the blade from his hands and aimed her sword at his throat.

The match was over.

Catching her breath, she stepped back, lowering her weapon. A slow murmur spread through the watching crowds–surprise, maybe even a hint of respect. She had won and that matters a lot.

As she exited the ring, she caught Kael watching her from the sidelines. He didn't say anything, but there was something in his eyes-a quiet acknowledgement, or perhaps something else entirely.

The trial continued, but as the day stretched on, exhaustion set it. Some students collapsed from sheer fatigue. Others bore injuries that would take days to heal. By the time the final match concluded, the Academy grounds were littered with signs of brutal training–shattered weapons, torn tunics and the unmistakable scent of sweat and blood.

Instructor Morpheus stepped forward, surveying the battered students. He was in charge of combat training, a high ranking demon known for his military combats. "This was only a test," he said, voice heavy with meaning. "A glimpse of the battles you may one day face. And if you think this was difficult, remember the real war will not grant you the mercy of a second chance."

A heavy silence followed.

"You Are dispersed." he said and left the hall.