Synchro Sovereign: Ace of Duel Academy

The quiet evening breeze swept across Duel Academy as Ace Romanov leaned against the railing of the Ra dorm's balcony, his eyes scanning the horizon. The calm sea stretched endlessly in front of him, yet his thoughts were anything but calm. He wasn't a man who acted without purpose. Every step he took, every move he made, was carefully calculated—and right now, he was focusing on Syrus Truesdale, the quiet, unassuming duelist who had just shown potential, but nothing more. Potential was a volatile thing—easy to squander or nurture. Ace had chosen to nurture it, and in his mind, Syrus was going to be more than just a talented duelist. He was going to be his pawn, his instrument.

His thoughts were interrupted by the soft, teasing voice of Swordsoul of Mo Ye.

"Thinking about Syrus, huh? The little guy's got potential, but you know, you don't just bring him up the ladder by throwing him into battle. You've gotta make him fit the image."

Ace's lips curled into a smirk. "Exactly. People are fickle, Mo Ye. They don't just want a skilled duelist; they want someone they can admire, someone they can follow. Syrus has to be more than just a boy with a Speedroid deck. He has to be someone they want to watch."

"So, you're making him a celebrity?" Longyuan's voice came from behind him, as cold and calculating as ever. "I've heard of this sort of thing. Turning someone into an icon isn't as easy as you think."

Ace shrugged. "I don't expect it to be easy. But I'll be the one pulling the strings."

The week following Ace's offer to join the Romanov Dueling Agency felt like a turning point for Syrus. The card Ace had given him, emblazoned with the golden Romanov crest, felt like a key to something bigger than anything he could have imagined. It was more than just an invitation to a prestigious organization—it was a lifeline. In Ace's eyes, Syrus could see a future of success and recognition. A future that, until now, had seemed out of his reach.

The first step was simple: Trust Ace. And Syrus had already come to believe that trusting Ace was his best chance at improving.

The following day, Ace sat across from Syrus in a private lounge within the Romanov Dueling Agency's newly opened headquarters. The room was sleek, and professional, with a modern, yet subtly opulent design. Syrus looked nervous as he fidgeted in his seat, wearing his usual, oversized glasses. Ace leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk.

"You've done well so far, Syrus," Ace said coolly, his eyes narrowing as he studied the boy. "But you've only scratched the surface. If you're going to be anything more than just another duelist, you'll need to make some serious changes."

Syrus blinked, confused. "Changes? What do you mean?"

Ace leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "Your appearance, Syrus. Your image. How you present yourself to the world. Being a professional duelist isn't just about your skills. It's about how you're perceived."

Syrus's face flushed, clearly uncomfortable. "I—I don't know about that. I've always been happy with who I am."

Ace chuckled darkly. "You think your glasses and frumpy clothes make you look like a champion? No. They make you look like a geek. A nobody. If you want to rise in this world, you need to look like somebody."

Syrus opened his mouth to protest, but Ace cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"Don't worry, I've already taken care of everything. I'm assigning you a top-tier manager from the agency. Someone who knows how to reshape you into the person you need to be. This isn't about changing who you are, Syrus. It's about showing the world the best version of yourself."

Over the next few days, Ace introduced Syrus to his top manager, an impeccably dressed woman named Valeria. She was a veteran of the industry and an expert in crafting celebrity personas, and she was tasked with reshaping Syrus's public image. Syrus had always been the shy, underdog duelist—the one with the heart but not the look. But that was about to change. Valeria wasted no time in getting to work.

Her first order of business? A complete makeover.

"Out with the glasses," she instructed, as she led him to the salon. "You need to look confident, poised, and ready for the spotlight. Contacts will do wonders for you."

Syrus fidgeted uncomfortably in the salon chair. "I-I don't know about this, Ace. I've always had glasses."

Ace, standing by the entrance with a knowing smirk, crossed his arms. "Syrus, do you want to be a pro duelist or not? The world doesn't care about your insecurities. They care about what you project. And right now, your project 'shy.' We need to make you shine."

The transformation was startling. Syrus's once meek appearance was now more sophisticated. The glasses were gone, replaced with stylish contact lenses that gave his eyes a sharp, intense look. His hair was trimmed and styled to give him a more mature and sleek appearance, a far cry from his previous messy, unruly hairstyle.

The following day, Syrus was introduced to a personal trainer, a hulking man named Nikolai who had a background in professional dueling and fitness. It wasn't enough that Syrus was becoming a better duelist—he needed to look the part, too.

"You've got the potential, kid," Nikolai said as he adjusted Syrus's form during a series of grueling exercises. "But without the strength to back it up, it won't matter. We're going to work on your endurance, your posture, and your confidence."

Syrus panted, his muscles burning as he struggled to keep up. "I don't know if I can... this is a lot."

"You can," Ace said from the doorway, his tone calm and commanding. "I'm doing this for your good, Syrus. You'll see. After all, it's not just about dueling. It's about creating an image that people can't ignore. You need to own the stage. Own your presence."

Meanwhile, Ace began pushing Syrus into the competitive scene more actively. He signed him up for smaller tournaments, ones with low stakes but high visibility. The Romanov Dueling Agency had plenty of connections in the dueling world, and Ace knew how to use them. Syrus wasn't just dueling; he was becoming a brand. His name was showing up in local tournament brackets, his face plastered on posters and digital ads. He was everywhere, and slowly, the public began to notice him.

The manager also introduced Syrus to a professional dueling trainer, a retired champion named Viktor, who helped refine his dueling style. Viktor didn't go easy on him—he drilled Syrus with endless practice duels, forcing him to learn new combos, improve his reflexes, and sharpen his strategy. Syrus was pushed hard, but every time he won, it became clearer that Ace's plan was working.

"Don't let the pressure get to you, Syrus," Ace said one night as they sat in the Romanov Agency's office after a tournament. "You'll face tougher opponents. But the key to winning isn't just being good—it's about making people want you to win. You've got to be the one they root for."

Syrus stared down at the tournament trophy in his hands, his heart pounding in his chest. He had won—but Ace was right. This wasn't just about the victory. It was about the perception, the image he had to build.

"Got it," Syrus muttered, though there was a faint flicker of doubt in his eyes.