The arena lights dimmed to a somber blue as Master Rhelgar ascended the central platform. The air crackled with exhaustion and anticipation—sixty students reduced to ten, each bearing the bruises and burns of the Crucible's merciless trials. Kenneth stood flanked by Zarek and Cassian, the trio united by tension. Kael lingered nearby, his tech-lens flickering as he scanned the crowd.
Rhelgar's gaze swept over them, a blade cutting through silence.
"You stand here because you refused to break," he began, his voice gravel scraping stone. "But remember: this is not victory. It is permission to suffer harder."
He raised a hand. A holographic list materialized overhead, glowing with ten names:
1. Cassian Veyne
2. Kenneth Prince
3. Zarek Volen
4. Kael Drayven
5. Garrik Voss (Ironhide)
6. Lira Voss (Phantom Limb)
7. Darien Kross (Kinetic Redirection)
8. Elara Thorne (Sonic Resonance)
9. Rook Blademane (Spectral Weapons)
10. Mira Song (Chrono-Slip)
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Elara Thorne—a slender girl with violet-streaked hair—touched her throat, where harmonic symbols glowed. Rook Blademane, draped in shadow, rotated a ghostly dagger in his palm. Mira Song stared into the middle distance, her eyes flickering with temporal echoes.
"These are Velmora's blades," Rhelgar declared. "For the next three months, you will train under my eye. Dawn till dusk. No respite. No weakness." He paused, his scarred face hardening. "The Inter-Academy Tournament does not reward talent. It devours the unprepared. If you falter, I will replace you. Understood?"
A chorus of grim nods answered him.
"Dismissed."
---
As the crowd dispersed, the top ten drifted toward the exits. Garrik Voss clapped Darien Kross on the shoulder, their rivalry momentarily set aside. Lira Voss shot Cassian a grudging nod. Mira Song vanished in a ripple of distorted time—gone before anyone saw her move.
Zarek cornered Kenneth near the weapon racks, his eyes sparking with barely contained energy.
"You threw that fight," he accused, voice low.
Kenneth didn't flinch. "I fought within the rules."
"Bullshit." Zarek's fist clenched. Lightning arced between his fingers. "I've sparred with you for months. When Cassian pinned you with your own fire, you hesitated. Why?"
Nearby, Cassian lingered, pretending to adjust his wrist guards. Kael observed from a shadowed alcove, his tech-lens recording.
Kenneth met Zarek's glare. "If I'd unleashed everything, they'd know what I am."
"So what?" Zarek stepped closer. "Let them see the monster. Maybe then they'd stop underestimating you."
"It's not about pride," Kenneth snapped, a flicker of fire igniting in his pupils. "If the faculty discovers I'm hybrid, they'll expel me. Or worse—dissect me, and then, my location would be known to my Father or stepfather perhaps."
The admission hung in the air. Zarek's anger faltered. He scrubbed a hand over his face.
"Fine. But next time? No holding back. Not even for Cassian." He jerked his chin toward the mimic. "Especially not for him."
Cassian chose that moment to approach, his expression unreadable. "He's right, you know," he said to Kenneth. "I beat the version of you that showed up today. Not the one that exists beneath."
Kenneth's gaze sharpened. "Careful, Veyne. Curiosity killed the mimic."
Cassian smiled—a thin, dangerous curve of his lips. "But satisfaction brought him back."
As Cassian melted into the departing crowd, Zarek sighed. "I still hate him."
"You hate losing," Kenneth corrected.
"Same thing."
Kael materialized beside them, holographic screens floating around his head. "Fascinating data," he murmured. "Cassian's mimicry has a 0.8-second delay when copying fire-based abilities. Exploitable."
Zarek raised a brow. "Got a plan, tech-ghost?"
"Always." Kael's lenses whirred. "But first, sleep. Rhelgar won't forgive lateness tomorrow."
The trio walked into the velvet night, the weight of the tournament settling over them. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled—a promise of storms to come.
---