Chaos swarmed the edges of the lake.
Bodies collided, and echoing screams mixed with splashing water as students fought tooth and nail just to reach the stone bridge. Some fought with intention. Others fought simply because panic demanded it.
Alex glanced at Max, wiping a smear of blood from his lip.
"So," he asked, voice strained but steady, "what are you planning to do?"
Max didn't answer right away.
Not because he wanted to be mysterious.
But because he had no idea.
He wasn't strong, not like Alex.
He had no spells, no weapons, and no combat experience.
And yet… he was here. Selected. Chosen. Tested.
They wouldn't bring him just to watch him fail.
Maybe his advantage wasn't muscle or magic.
Maybe it was his mind.
He looked out across the bridge toward the academy and the man waiting at the far end.
Students finally broke from the brawling chaos and sprinted toward the bridge, two of them fast unnaturally fast.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"They might make it!"
They didn't.
A sound like the inhale of a massive beast echoed from the lake low, ominous.
Then
WHOOSH.
Water erupted upward, forming a towering wall over thirty feet high. It crashed down across the center of the bridge with merciless weight.
When the water settled, the two runners were gone.
Not drowned just gone.
Then Max saw them limp forms carried by shadowy phantoms near the Headmaster. The figures casted a green light upon them and set them beside him and vanished like smoke scattered by wind.
The Headmaster raised his hand.
"Your courage is commendable. First attempt earns notice, even in failure. Grade: C."
A pulse of air swirled from his palm, drying their soaked clothes instantly. The pair blinked in confusion but remained standing.
Silence swept the crowd.
Fighting ceased.
Now thinking and fear took its place.
More students tried alternative routes.
A few dove into the lake, attempting to swim. The water swallowed them like a beast claiming prey, and the shadow escorts reappeared to carry their limp bodies to shore.
Others attempted to follow the forest's outer edge seeking a loophole.
The forest answered with silence.
None returned.
The Headmaster's voice echoed across the lake, cold and mechanical.
"GRADE F."
"GRADE F."
"GRADE F."
Somewhere behind Max, someone sobbed.
Hope was thinning.
Then someone moved.
Two figures stepped onto the bridge not fighting, not rushing moving with purpose.
Hoods shielded their faces. Their steps were synchronized. Their confidence unnerving.
They sprinted.
The water stirred.
That same monstrous swell began to rise again but this time, the larger figure grabbed the smaller and shielded them with their own body.
The impact was violent—but when the wave broke and the lake calmed, one student still stood.
Barely.
They staggered, turned back, and dragged their partner up from where they clung to the stone railing.
Together, trembling, soaked, yet unbroken the pair pressed forward.
A cheer erupted from the watching students.
For the first time, hope flickered.
Windows in the academy opened faces appearing, observing.
By the time the pair reached the Headmaster, exhaustion weighed on every step. Their arms dropped, hoods falling away.
Gasps swept through the watching crowd.
The tall one broad-shouldered and muscular had controlled features and short, immaculate blond hair, though now drenched and wild.
"I'm Adam," he said quietly.
The second student lifted her chin, eyes sharp and dangerously alive. Her long black and blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders as water dripped down her pale skin.
Her voice was calm, but carried razor ambition.
"I'm Victoria," she said. "And I didn't come here to just attend. I came to become the best."
Her gaze swept the remaining students challenging, dismissive, warning.
Across the bridge, the Headmaster stepped forward, offering his hand.
"Well done," he said, voice carrying across the lake like thunder tamed.
"The first to adapt rather than attack. The first to use strategy rather than instinct."
His eyes sharpened.
"A reminder that strength unchecked is chaos and that intelligence without action is wasted potential."
Then, for the first time, he gave his name.
"My name is Zephyr. Headmaster and your examiner."
Then firm, final, his judgment:
"GRADE: A."
The students who remained stared at the bridge not with fear…
…but with possibility.