The dorm was too quiet to be comfortable.
Hari had grown used to the sounds of rusted fans, distant arguing, and dripping pipes. But here, in the academy's northern wing, Cohort Zero's isolation block, the silence pressed in like cold stone. No birds. No wind. Just breath and the creak of his bedframe.
A sharp, vibrating clang shattered the stillness.
The walls hummed. The air itself buzzed with Nous resonance as a massive echo rippled through the entire building. It wasn't just sound, it was pressure. Somewhere above them, an obsidian bell etched with thousands of minor glyphs had activated. It wasn't just meant to wake them.
It was meant to shake them.
Hari sat up immediately. Amari was already on his feet, pulling a tunic over his slim frame. His horn caught a strip of sunlight, casting a curved shadow across the wall.
Andre rolled off his cot with theatrical agony and groaned. "Who rings a bell at dawn? Psychopaths. That's who."
A faint click followed. On the back wall, text began to etch itself into the stone in glowing blue script, projected directly using ambient Nous.
"Reach the Northern Wall by sunset. Fail, and you are dismissed."
No instructor appeared. No guide. No map.
Amari tilted his head. "That's twelve miles through spell-coded terrain, if I'm remembering the layout correctly."
Andre blinked. "We have a map?"
Hari didn't answer. He stood, rolled his shoulder once, then grabbed his jacket. As he turned, the copper-wire ring with Elori's bead shimmered faintly at his wrist.
Dismissed.
That wasn't a test. That was a warning.
Andre was already stretching like he was preparing for a marathon. "So, I figure I win this one. Probably get praised. Might even get a medal. You two can race for second."
Amari stared at him. "You're going to trigger every trap."
"Incorrect," Andre said, striking a heroic pose. "I'm going to disarm them with my charm and main character energy."
Hari was already at the door.
"I'm not racing," he muttered. "Let's move."
The first trap wasn't even subtle.
A circular glyph, barely covered with fake grass, pulsed a sickly yellow under the dirt. Hari caught it just before stepping forward, raising a hand to stop the others. Andre nearly bumped into him.
"Whoa—what?" Andre whispered, eyes wide.
"Glyph," Hari said.
Amari crouched and squinted. "Two-second delay burst. Old spell. Probably releases a charge under your ribs."
Andre winced. "That's specific."
"Because I've seen it," Amari muttered.
Hari stepped wide around the trap. "Follow exactly."
Andre mumbled something about walking death lines and tiptoed after him.
They moved in silence for a while. The deeper they got, the worse the layout became. Some traps played tricks with sound footsteps that didn't belong to them, whispers coming from both ahead and behind. Once, Andre swore he saw someone following them in the corner of his eye, but when he turned, it was just a shimmering wall of heat and light.
Amari was the first to catch the next real trap. A mirrored passage at a fork clean and inviting but the glyph bleed at the edges gave it away.
"It's bait," he said. "Reflection layer's too perfect."
Andre looked at the mirrored path longingly. "Man, I almost walked into that like an idiot."
"You still might," Hari muttered, passing him.
Andre threw up his hands. "I apologize for trying to trust the laws of geometry."
Time blurred. Thirty minutes? An hour? It was hard to tell in the artificial maze light. Hari's shoulder was starting to ache again, and Andre had stopped cracking jokes every five minutes, which meant he was getting tired.
Then they reached a ravine split clean through the land. Not deep, but wide. At least twenty feet across, maybe more. Below, threadlines of glowing Nous pulsed like veins. Falling wasn't an option.
A single narrow beam stretched across. Not thick enough for comfort. The surface shimmered.
"Definitely spelled," Amari said. "Might react to weight or movement."
Andre tapped it with the edge of his boot. "Feels solid."
"That's not the issue," Hari said. "One of us goes. The others watch for changes."
Andre gave them a small salute. "I'll go. In case it starts collapsing and I have to do a dramatic leap."
No one stopped him. Hari watched his foot placement, every slight wobble.
Halfway across, Andre stepped wrong or maybe just stepped hard and a glyph lit up beneath him. He flinched. The beam didn't break, but a bolt of lightning shot into the air from a nearby tower.
A beat of silence.
Then a distant sound. Something like a horn, followed by something worse: a howl, deep and animal and close.
"That's not a good sign," Andre said.
"They're releasing something," Amari said. "Glyph must've triggered it."
Hari's tone was flat. "Run."
Andre sprinted the rest of the way, his boots slapping against the beam. Amari followed quick, precise steps like he'd done this before.
Hari came last. Slower. Controlled. He didn't take chances.
Behind them, the ground cracked open.
A creature pulled itself free of all hard stone and clicking limbs, ivory bone exposed like armor. It didn't have eyes. Just a long snout and open mouth full of ridged teeth.
Andre reached for his sword. "So… fight or flight?"
Hari didn't look away. "We move. Now."
They ran.
The next stretch was rough terrain, scorched hills and pits marked with glyphs half-buried in soot. The heat coming off the ground was real. Not magic. Just exhaustion from too many years of old spells cooked into the earth.
No one talked now. Breath was getting hard to come by.
They didn't even notice the sun shifting overhead until the wall came into view, a tall, jagged stone carved with sigils, stretching like a prison gate across the horizon.
Amari slowed beside Hari, sweat dripping from his jaw. "You think this is the end?"
Hari didn't answer.
Andre came up behind them, chest heaving. "If it's not, I vote we pretend it is."
Hari scanned the wall.
Something was waiting.
The gate clanked shut behind them.
Hari looked around. The training chamber was circular, the stone walls lined with flickering glyphs and what looked like old blood. There were no desks, no bedding, no personal space. Just floor. Chalk outlines of combat drills covered the ground, worn but still legible.
John Takahara stood in the center, coat trailing like it had weight beyond fabric. He didn't speak right away.
Instead, he walked a slow circle around them.
No eye contact. Just footsteps and silence.
Andre fidgeted. Amari didn't blink.
"None of you are ready," John said finally. His voice was calm, almost bored. "I'm not here to prepare you. I'm here to see who breaks first."
He gestured toward a faded glyph drawn at the edge of the room. "You will spar. One by one. No spells. No Nous. Just hands. This isn't about winning. I need to see how you move when you're tired. When you're humiliated. When someone doesn't fight fair."
Amari spoke up. "That's the point?"
John looked at him, slow and deliberate. "That is life."
Hari felt the weight of the room tighten, as if the glyphs themselves were listening.
"First pair," John said. "Andre. Amari. Begin."
Andre blinked. "Wait. Like right now? No warm up?"
"You'll warm up while falling."
Amari was already stepping into the glyph. Calm. Loose. He took off his jacket, revealing a scarred shoulder and the beginnings of a coiled, thin tail.
Andre sighed, stretching his arms. "Cool. Just let me know if my face bleeds too much."
Hari stood off to the side. Watching. Not interfering.
John crossed his arms and waited.
The test had begun.
Andre stepped into the glyph ring with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Amari didn't grin at all.
The room was quiet except for their footsteps and the low hum of Nous in the stone. No cheering. No crowd. Just the sound of two boys about to collide.
Andre cracked his neck. "So... no spells, no Nous, no fun. Just fists."
"You talk too much," Amari said.
They moved at the same time.
Andre swung first, wide and fast. Amari ducked beneath it and stepped in close, slamming a palm into Andre's ribs. Not hard, but sharp enough to shift his balance.
Andre winced and spun, trying to catch Amari off-guard with a hook. Amari caught his wrist mid-swing, pivoted, and flipped him over his shoulder.
Andre hit the ground hard.
"Point," John said.
Andre groaned. "You guys train in secret or something?"
Amari didn't answer. He just reset his stance, loose again, tail swaying behind him like a wire waiting to snap.
Andre stood, rubbing his elbow. "Okay. Okay. Just warming up."
This time he kept his hands tighter, footwork sharper. He circled Amari, feinted low, then lunged in for a grab.
He made contact. A brief win.
Then Amari drove a knee into his gut, dropped low, and swept Andre's legs clean from under him.
Andre fell again.
"Point," John said.
Andre lay flat on the ground for a second. "So... I'm the comic relief?"
"Not yet," Amari said. "You haven't made me laugh."
John spoke without looking at them. "Last round."
Andre pulled himself up slower this time. His breathing wasn't steady anymore.
Hari watched silently. He'd seen beatdowns before on the street, in alleys, even once in a shelter line but this was different. This was surgical.
Andre nodded, more to himself than anyone else. "Alright. Try number three."
He didn't charge this time. He waited.
And Amari gave him nothing.
They circled each other. Quiet. Slow.
Then Andre moved fast, ducking into Amari's space, feinting a jab, twisting into a shoulder check that actually made Amari stumble.
It lasted a second.
Then Amari grabbed Andre by the collar, yanked him off balance, and drove him into the floor.
Hard.
The room went still.
Andre didn't get up right away.
John walked over and crouched beside him. Not to check on him. Just to speak low enough that only Andre could hear.
"Pain's not your enemy," John said. "Ego is."
Andre sat up, wincing. "I'll remember that... when I can feel my ribs again."
John stood and looked to Hari. "You're next."
Hari stepped into the glyph ring without a word.
Amari was already waiting. He rolled his shoulders once, tail swaying behind him with slow confidence.
"Try not to take this personal," Amari said.
Hari just raised his hands into a guard. No banter. No readjustments. Just quiet readiness.
John nodded from the sidelines. "Begin."
Amari struck first, quick as ever two sharp jabs followed by a low sweep. Fast enough to catch most people flat-footed.
Hari wasn't most people.
He shifted back just enough to avoid the jabs, then raised a knee to check the sweep. His footing never broke. He didn't react. He read.
Amari's eyes narrowed. He lunged again, feinting high and twisting for a hip toss.
Hari stepped into it.
Not away. Into.
His weight slammed forward, breaking the momentum, shoulder catching Amari in the chest. In one fluid motion, Hari twisted his hips, locked Amari's arm, and flipped him over with brutal efficiency.
Amari hit the ground.
Hard.
John didn't speak. The glyphs beneath them pulsed once, signaling the first point.
Amari pushed up, shaking it off. His horn had scraped the floor, leaving a thin white mark on the ring.
This time, he didn't say anything.
Hari lowered his stance slightly. His hands didn't tremble. His eyes didn't flicker.
Still. Controlled.
They circled.
Then Amari exploded into motion feints, footwork, a blur of body and tail and speed.
Hari didn't dodge.
He absorbed.
He let a glancing blow hit his shoulder. Let Amari close the gap. Then trapped the tail between elbow and ribs, pivoted, and drove Amari down again this time with his knee pressing into Amari's chest.
The glyphs flashed.
Second point.
Amari coughed once. "You fight like stone."
Hari stood and offered a hand.
Amari ignored it and stood on his own.
"Final round," John said.
But there was no shift in momentum.
Amari tried a different approach, slower and more deliberate, trying to bait Hari into overcommitting.
Hari didn't bite.
When he moved, it was a sudden step a palm to Amari's chest, then a hook under the ribs, then a sweep.
Amari fell flat again.
Third point.
"Match over," John said. "Hari."
Andre let out a low whistle from the side. "So that's what it looks like when the quiet guy gets serious."
Hari didn't smile. He just stepped out of the ring, hands relaxed at his sides.
Amari sat up slowly, wiping blood from his lip. "We're not done."
Hari nodded once. "I know."
Amari didn't walk off the ring.
He stayed seated, jaw set, breath steadying. His eyes never left Hari.
"Again," he said.
John's voice cut in like a dropped weight. "Matches are one-on-one. You had your round."
"I wasn't ready," Amari snapped, standing now. "He caught me off guard."
"No," Hari replied, calm and direct. "You lost."
Amari flinched like the words hit harder than the throw. "Then do it again. Unless you're scared."
Andre stood up from the bench before Hari could answer. "You're both missing the moment. The Queen made this class for the three of us, yeah? You think she picked us to fight like dogs over a bowl?"
He walked into the ring without waiting for permission. "We're not enemies. But if we gotta throw hands to figure out who's who" he stretched his arms, grinning "I'm not sitting out."
Hari looked at John.
The instructor's arms stayed crossed, his face unreadable.
Then, after a long pause, he nodded. "Three seconds. That's how long you'll last."
Andre clapped once, delighted. "That's a yes!"
Amari cracked his neck. "Fine."
Hari stepped back into the circle. His face hadn't changed, but his stance shifted slightly, lower now, centered ready for more than one angle.
"Begin," John said flatly.
Amari and Andre moved like they'd trained for this their whole lives. Andre came in high, using wide strikes to push Hari's guard. Amari darted low and fast, tail whipping to try and pull Hari's legs.
Hari turned his body sideways, let Andre's strike graze past his shoulder, caught Amari's tail mid-motion and yanked.
Amari stumbled. Hari didn't let go, he twisted Amari's weight and threw him into Andre's chest.
Both of them hit the mat.
"Again," Amari grunted, rolling to his feet.
They came together this time, not simultaneous but overlapping Andre punching to draw attention, Amari striking to punish distraction.
Hari ducked, pivoted.
His elbow caught Andre in the ribs just hard enough to drop him to one knee.
He spun, grabbed Amari's collar, and shoved him backward across the ring.
The glyphs lit up again. Then faded. No formal scoring now.
Andre stood again, panting. "Okay, okay. Damn."
Amari wiped his mouth. "He's not fast."
"Nope," Andre muttered, rubbing his ribs.
"But he doesn't waste anything."
Hari stood in the center of the ring, unmoved. He looked like he could go another round. But he didn't want to.
That was clear.
John finally stepped forward. "This wasn't about winning."
He looked at all three of them.
"It was about finding out what you do when you're not the strongest in the room."
Andre raised a hand. "I think I found out."
John didn't smile. "You're not dead. That's a start."
The glyphs faded out beneath their feet. The room dimmed slightly as the daylight shifted through the high windows.
"Class dismissed," John said, already walking away. "Tomorrow, we start with live Nouson tactics. Bring your nerves."
Hari stepped out of the ring.
Amari followed. This time, he walked beside him.
Andre trailed after, tossing his arm over both their shoulders.
"You know," he said cheerfully, "this trio might actually be something."
Neither of them answered.
But they didn't shrug him off.