The dawn of the Gauntlet arrived with a sun bright enough that it was painful to gaze upon.
Too peaceful. Too calm.
It felt wrong — like the world didn't care that Kairen's chest was twisting with fear.
The Grand Playground had become an extension of dreams. The stone benches were full of students, family, and mages of every division imaginable. The air pulsed with voices; banners flew like the living flame, and the light glaring off the arena's bright white tiles was blinding.
Everyone looked so happy. Everyone, except for him.
Kairen swallowed hard, his mouth dry. It's just another test… right?
But it didn't feel that way. It felt like walking into his own trial.
From the stands, laughter echoed. He spotted Dain's family easily — his father, a mountain of a man, yelling something loud and proud; his mother waving a hand-painted "GO DAIN!" banner with a grin.
Near them, two quiet figures in black robes watched in silence — still, sharp, cold. Ilya's parents. Their eyes didn't move once from the field.
And then… Elara.
She was at the front, on her feet, hands around her mouth. Her voice was sharp, bisecting the noise like an arrow.
"KAIREN! YOU CAN DO IT!"
Heads turned. A few nearby women — the type who whispered for sport — began murmuring.
"Oh my, that's Elara Zephyrwind, isn't it? Torren's wife?"
"Such a pity," another said softly. "Her boy doesn't even have magic, they say…"
Elara didn't even flinch. Her smile stayed — small but fierce, her eyes burning with pride.
"My son," she said clearly, "chose the path that needs the most heart. You'll see soon enough — that heart will speak louder than any spell."
Her words reached Kairen through the echoing speakers. He saw her face on the large crystal screen — proud, unshaken — and something twisted deep in his chest.
He couldn't fail her. Not today.
Down below, from the Vanguard waiting room, her cheers sounded like rumbling thunder in the distance. The cold stone air smelled like sweat.
A crystal screen flickered high above their heads, displaying an overhead view of the arena.
Dain was bouncing on his feet, utterly bright and brimming with pent-up energy.
"Can you believe this, Kai? Look at that crowd! This is insane!"
Kairen just nodded, trying not to throw up.
The door opened with a click.
Rayan stepped in, calm as always, his coat fluttering behind him.
"Listen up," he said, voice even and sharp. "Your real enemy today isn't the person across the arena. It's the fear sitting in your own head. Beat that—" he looked right at Kairen "—and you've already won."
He tapped a glowing slate. "First match: Erik versus Liana."
The tall boy stood, pale but ready. The others watched through the crystal screen.
Liana — a girl with wild red hair — stood on a floating platform, fire circling her hands.
Erik charged fast, sword flashing. But she was faster. Ice, stone, bursts of pressure — her spells came one after another, like a storm that never stopped.
One last blast of wind threw him off his feet. The healers rushed in.
First match — done.
One after another, battles played out. Some were fast, some brutal.
A boy trapped by crawling roots. A girl knocking her opponent out with a perfect counter.
Cheers, groans, gasps — the room was alive with nerves.
Then Rayan's calm voice broke the air again.
"Next match: Dain Ragnor versus Ilya Veyne."
Everything froze.
Dain blinked. "Wait—me and Ilya?"
Kairen's heart dropped.
His two best friends.
Then a smile appeared on Dain's lips. "Well," he said with knuckles snapping together, "I guess we'll finally find out who had the will to survive." He smiled at Kairen as though he was about to fight. When the corruption advanced to his name, the crowd began to cheer and applaud.
A tall, gangly man stood named Dain, his brilliant sword strapped to his back while the arena glistened in the rays of sun. Ilya was across from Dain with her eyes glimmering radiated a soothing silvery blue color. As they approached each other in the center of the arena, she leaned a little forward. "You had better not back down, or it would be a big mistake," she said gently.
Dain smiled even wider. "Heh. I know Ilya likes that. Princess, you might want to try to stay on your feet."
The bell clanged — and the ground blasted.
Dain plunged forward, sword swinging in a big arc. The air snapped.
Ilya twisted her wrist; ice glazed the ground beneath him.
He rushed over, flailing his arms, and slipped and fell. The crowd erupted in laughter.
"Hey! That is unfair! Dain scrambled up and yelled.".
"Strategy," she said matter-of-factly, blowing him back once more.
From the ground, Kairen could not help but laugh. Typical Dain.
Dain's laughter, though, stopped. He scowled. Letting out a growl, he slammed his sword into a stone support; and used that to propel himself off the ground, midair. The audience gasped in awe. Rayan's eyes grew wide as well.
Ilya was only a few steps away when Dain tumbled down. His boots made a cracking sound on the earth.
"You got it!"
Steel met light.
Her shield flared in time with the two energies colliding, creating a shockwave that shook the stands.
Sparks flew. Dust settled.
They moved like two storms colliding — Dain's raw strength against Ilya's precision.
Each hit was a flash, a blur of motion.
Kairen's pulse raced. His mark — hidden under his uniform — burned faintly. He placed a hand on his side, feeling the heat creep under his skin. Not now. Please, not now.
Up in the stands, Ilya's parents sat perfectly still, unreadable.
Elara leaned forward, lips parted in awe.
"Go, Dain! You've got this!"
Down in the arena, both fighters were slowing. Their attacks grew heavier, breaths faster. Sweat ran down their faces.
Then — Dain saw it.
An opening.
He lunged, sword flashing silver.
At the same moment, Ilya lifted her hand and screamed, "Vestra!"
A bright blast of raw force shot from her palm.
The two attacks met.
The world exploded.
A wave of white light swept through the arena, dust shooting into the sky. The stands gasped as the sound hit — a deafening BOOM that shook the banners loose.
When the smoke cleared, both lay flat on the ground.
Rayan appeared between them, coat fluttering. He lifted a hand, smiling.
"Enough! Both combatants are down. It's a draw!"
The crowd erupted.
Dain groaned, waving weakly from the ground.
Ilya sat up, smiling tiredly. "Good match," she whispered.
He laughed. "You hit hard for someone half my size."
As healers rushed in, the crowd still cheered. The noise rolled like thunder.
Then came the voice everyone was waiting to hear.
"And now," the announcer was at the mic again, "our last match for the day..."
Kairen froze. A lump had developed in his stomach. The air around him had also come to a stop.
"Kairen Zephyrwind against Kaelan Brightblade!"
The words struck Kairen like a lightning bolt.
Everything around him is simple. Halted for an instant.
The crowd fell silent. Even the wind remembered to stop moving.
Rayan reclined in his chair, squinting as he observed.
Professor Valerius was sitting tall, arms across his chest, his expression grim and unreadable.
In the upper seating, Elara's lips shook. It appeared that she could squeal with screams, but there was no sound at all. She gripped the railing with such incredibility, that the knuckles of her hand changed to white.
In the ring, Kaelan was attempting to push himself off of the matted ground.
Sun rays reflected off his hair, that shocked like some type of precious metal.
His eyes were cut and sharp like ice, far to sharp like a razor.
A slow slow-making smirk creased across his lips made that area seem heavier.
When he spoke, his voice boomed like an anathema into the heart of silence.
His tone was low and hateful. "Finally," he growled, "our hour is here."
His own eyes, fired with the promise of violence, locked onto Kairen.
"Zephyrwind, I'm going to destroy you."
Something within Kairen changed.
The hard knot within his chest—the one that had knotted all morning—finally released.
All the terror, the trembling, the hesitant doubts that had trailed him since dawn… disappeared. Incinerated.
He drew a slow breath. The world felt sharper, clearer.
He could sense the warmth of his mark thumping beneath his skin, steady and vital, as if it as well had been waiting for this time.
And when Kairen raised his head, their eyes meeting across the glittering field, there was nothing left in him of fear—only serene, intent flame.
He wasn't fleeing anymore.
Not from Kaelan.
Not from what he was.
His heart pounded slower. His fists relaxed.
He raised his head and gazed at Kaelan across the dance of flame and light.
And he did not see a bully for the first time. The kid who had wrecked his life was not there for him.
He only saw an adversary.