The glowing barriers around each platform ignited. "Matches begin in ten minutes."
A massive bell materialized above the arena.
Students took their positions.
Fear.
Excitement.
Resolve.
All mixing into one electric atmosphere.
And across the entire academy—
Everyone waited.
For the bell.
To ring.
Arena Platform Seven erupted in cheers as the first matches began.
Barrier walls shimmered. Mana winds roared. Students clashed across multiple platforms at once.
A BK-Class student lunged forward against an AA-Class opponent—
—and was immediately thrown back by a single punch of compressed mana, skidding across the floor before crashing into the barrier.
Eliminated.
On another platform, two fighters exchanged rapid blows, blades flashing—
A BK student screamed as his leg gave out mid-step, collapsing under pressure from an overwhelming strike.
He slammed against the arena floor, unable to stand.
Barrier seals activated.
Match over.
The medics teleported in instantly, lifting him away.
In the stands, CM and DW students watched wide-eyed.
Renji covered his mouth. "They're serious..."
Hikaru nodded nervously. "This isn't practice..."
Tsuramo watched silently.
Elsewhere—
A rare cheer erupted.
One BK student actually defeated an AA opponent through clever trap placement, sending the stronger fighter outside the barrier.
But those victories were rare.
Most BK students fell.
Then—
Platform Twelve lit up.
MATCH: Nihon Fūma vs Sora Kazehaya
Wind surged as both fighters stepped forward.
Sora Kazehaya stood calmly, long silver-blue hair tied high behind her, uniform sleeves fluttering in the artificial storm forming around the platform.
Wind user.
A-Class elite.
She smiled slightly. "Try not to get blown away."
Across from her, Nihon rolled his shoulders. "Same to you."
The bell rang.
BOOOONG.
Wind exploded outward.
Both vanished.
CRASH!
Blades of compressed air collided mid-arena, slicing trenches into the stone floor.
"KAZE: SHARP EDGE!"
Sora swung her arm—
A crescent of cutting wind screamed toward Nihon.
He crossed his arms.
"Fūma Style: Iron Tempest!"
Wind wrapped around his body, hardening like invisible armor as the attack struck.
BOOM!
Dust burst outward.
Students shielded their faces.
Nihon slid backward, boots digging into stone.
His arm shook. A thin line of blood slipped from the corner of his mouth.
But he grinned. "Fast."
Sora vanished again.
Wind pressure struck from above—
Below—
Behind—
Her voice echoed "Sky Dance Formation!"
Invisible blades rained down.
Nihon clenched his teeth.
Wind armor shattered in places, slicing shallow cuts across his uniform.
He coughed, dropping to one knee.
The crowd gasped. "Is it over already?"
Sora descended, wind swirling around her palm. "Yield."
Nihon spat blood to the side. "...No."
His markings ignited brighter.
Air compressed violently around him. "KAMIKAZE DRIVE!"
The platform exploded as he launched forward, faster than before.
Sora's eyes widened.
Too late.
Nihon's blade, reinforced with screaming wind pressure, struck her guard—
CRACK!
Her defense shattered.
A final shockwave hurled her backward across the arena.
She hit the barrier.
And fell outside it.
Silence.
Then—
"Match over!"
The arena erupted.
BK students screamed in disbelief.
"He won?!"
"Against Sora?!"
Nihon staggered, breathing hard, wind armor fading.
Blood still trickled from his lip.
But he stayed standing.
Medics rushed in toward Sora, who groaned but lifted a thumb weakly.
Alive. Just defeated.
Nihon exhaled slowly.
From the stands—
Kijin whistled. "Show-off."
And in the CM section—
Tsuramo nodded once.
"...Good use of pressure timing."
Below—
Nihon looked up at the crowd, eyes scanning—
almost as if searching for someone's approval.
Then he wiped his mouth and walked off the platform.
One BK student had survived.
But many matches remained.
And the arena only grew louder.
---
The training arena buzzed with tension as the next match was called.
Stone walls shimmered with barrier seals, and students from every class filled the stands—BK, CM, AA, and DW watching closely.
Ayame stepped onto the platform, calm as ever, violet eyes steady. Across from her stood her opponent—a fire-user from BK class.
Flames flickered around the girl's hands as she introduced herself confidently.
"I'm Hoshina Rei. Fire specialist. Try not to blink."
Her pink-and-purple asymmetrical hair swayed as heat gathered around her, the air already distorting.
A bell rang.
And the match began.
Rei moved first. "Blaze Step!"
She vanished in a burst of flame, reappearing behind Ayame with a flaming kick. Fire exploded across the stage, forcing spectators to shield their eyes.
But—
Ayame was gone.
Only shadows remained.
A ripple of darkness slid across the ground, reforming behind Rei.
Ayame's voice drifted softly. "Your flames are strong… but they cast shadows."
The arena lights dimmed as her shadow manipulation spread, swallowing the stage edges. Rei spun, launching fireballs wildly.
"Crimson Burst!"
Flames roared outward, forcing Ayame back—but Ayame merely stepped through the smoke, untouched.
From the stands—
Tsuramo watched silently, arms folded.
"…Good control," he murmured quietly. "She wastes nothing."
Beside him, Masakiro nodded. "Her movement is flawless."
Luna leaned forward, grinning. "She's playing with her."
Virelya crossed her arms. "Rei's already lost mentally."
Rin whispered, amazed, "She's not even attacking seriously…"
Even Kurojin clicked his tongue, smirking slightly. "Tch. Monster."
Back on stage—
Rei roared and unleashed her strongest move. "Inferno Cage!"
Pillars of fire erupted, trapping Ayame in a blazing prison.
Heat surged through the arena.
For a moment, silence fell.
Then—
The flames dimmed.
And shadows swallowed them whole.
Ayame stepped out unharmed, her shadow blade resting gently against Rei's shoulder.
No one even saw her move.
Rei's flames flickered… then died.
Her knees hit the floor.
Match over.
The instructor's voice echoed:
"Winner: Takara Ayame."
Cheers erupted.
Ayame withdrew her blade and extended a hand, helping Rei stand.
"You have talent," she said calmly. "Refine your control."
Rei, exhausted but respectful, nodded.
As Ayame stepped off the platform, Tsuramo muttered quietly—
"…She really is strong."
Masakiro smirked. "You'd enjoy fighting her."
Tsuramo didn't answer.
But his eyes followed Ayame as she walked away