Relics: The Ashes of a Lost World

The sparring grounds of L'académie-The Academy of the Gifted were alive with energy. Students crowded the circular arena, their murmurs blending into an anticipatory hum. At its center, two figures stood poised for combat: Nur Bolaji, relic-less but resolute, and Kadeem Tovai, a towering student armed with the mid-tier relic Gaunpact, also known as the Gauntlets of Impact.

Kadeem smirked, flexing his fists as the gauntlets emitted a faint mechanical hum. "You sure you want to do this, Bolaji?" His voice dripped with condescension. "No relic, no chance."

Nur adjusted his stance, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. "Are we going to talk all day, or are you actually going to fight?" His voice was calm, almost bored, but his sharp gaze betrayed his focus.

The crowd erupted at the taunt, some cheering for Kadeem's assured victory, others curious about Nur's defiance. Nur had a reputation—not for raw power but for his sharp mind and unorthodox tactics.

The instructor raised a hand, signaling the start of the match. "No lethal strikes. First to incapacitate or yield wins. Begin!"

BOOM!

Kadeem charged, the gauntlets amplifying his speed as he closed the distance in seconds. Nur sidestepped at the last moment, his boots skidding slightly on the arena's smooth surface. Kadeem's fist slammed into the ground, sending a shockwave rippling outward. Several students stumbled back, gasping as shards of stone flew into the air.

Nur didn't flinch. His eyes darted to the crack Kadeem had left in the floor, calculating. "Big entrance," he remarked, circling his opponent. "But you missed."

Kadeem growled, swinging again with a right hook. The gauntlet's metallic sheen blurred as it cut through the air. Nur ducked low, weaving beneath the punch. He pivoted, using Kadeem's momentum against him, and struck the back of his knee with a quick jab. Kadeem stumbled but didn't fall.

"Quick on your feet," Kadeem admitted, irritation lacing his tone. "Let's see how long you can run."

Nur smirked. "Long enough."

Kadeem lunged again, aiming a downward strike that would have crushed Nur's shoulder. Nur stepped into the swing, his hands gripping Kadeem's wrist and twisting. The move was precise, exploiting the slight delay in the gauntlet's response time.

CRASH!

Kadeem's fist slammed into the ground again, leaving him momentarily exposed. Nur didn't waste the opportunity. He drove his elbow into Kadeem's side, forcing the larger boy to stumble.

"Stop wasting energy," Nur advised, his voice steady. "You're making it too easy."

The crowd murmured at the bold statement, their excitement growing.

Kadeem roared and activated the gauntlets' secondary function. A faint glow spread across their metallic surface as energy built within them. He brought both fists together, creating a shockwave that sent Nur sliding backward.

Nur barely regained his footing, his ears ringing from the blast. Quickly, he scanned the arena, noting the debris scattered from Kadeem's earlier strikes.

When Kadeem charged again, Nur scooped up a loose piece of stone and hurled it at Kadeem's face. It wasn't meant to hurt—only distract. The larger boy flinched, his focus breaking for a crucial second.

That second was all Nur needed.

He slipped behind Kadeem, using the momentary lapse to hook his leg around Kadeem's ankle. With a sharp tug, he destabilized the larger boy, sending him toppling forward.

Thud...

Kadeem hit the ground hard, his gauntlets digging into the arena floor as he struggled to push himself up. Nur was already there, planting a knee on Kadeem's back and twisting one arm behind him.

"Yield," Nur said firmly, his breath steady despite the exertion.

Kadeem struggled, but the position left him no leverage. The crowd fell silent, the weight of the unexpected outcome settling over them.

"I said yield," Nur repeated, applying just enough pressure to drive the point home.

"Fine!" Kadeem spat, his voice dripping with frustration. "I yield."

The instructor stepped forward, raising a hand. "Winner: Nur Bolaji."

A smattering of applause rippled through the crowd, hesitant but genuine. Nur stood, offering Kadeem a hand. The larger boy swatted it away, standing on his own with a glare.

As the students began to disperse, Nur caught snippets of their conversations. "How did he do that?" one muttered. "He's just lucky," another scoffed.

Nur ignored them, walking toward the edge of the arena.

He didn't have a relic, but he had his wits. And sometimes, that was enough.

For now...

...

Relics were power, and power was everything. But not all relics were created equal.

The world divided relics into a tiered system, classifying them by rarity and capability. From the empowering low-tier to the unparalleled strength of S-Tier, each relic carried its own weight in the balance of power. Nur had none, but he was surrounded by those who wielded them—some as tools, others as weapons, and a select few as symbols of supremacy.

L'académie was a proving ground for those destined to shape the future. And for Nur, it was a battlefield where he had to fight without fire—or risk being consumed by it.

But even then, the question lingered: how long could he hold his own in a world ruled by relics?