There was a good amount of competition—everyone wanted a chance at the rank 2 nyx prizes. Some were desperate to upgrade what they had, others wanting to finally break into rank 2.
To keep things moving, multiple rings were set up across the training grounds. Matches were called one after another, cheers were rising from all sides as wrestlers clashed. The atmosphere was electric—spectators pressed close, eyes darting between rings, betting silently in their minds who would reach the finals.
When Naro's name was finally called, the noise in the crowd spiked. Many remembered how he had stood in front of Thalgor, others were just curious about the boy who seemed too calm for his age. Lloyd and his group watched with sharp eyes. Markus and Elara leaned forward, clearly interested.
The fight rules were simple: every trainee was given the same pair of nyx—a wind path pushing nyx and a defense-type—so the match came down purely to skill.
Naro stepped into the ring. His opponent looked nervous, fists clenched, trying to steady his breathing. The referee gave the signal.
It ended instantly. Naro's movements were fluid, almost casual. A step, a twist of his shoulder, and his opponent was shoved clean out of the ring before anyone realized what happened. Gasps rippled through the crowd, then laughter and cheers—some calling it luck, others whispering it was skill. Naro only smiled faintly, stepping back as if it had been nothing.
The tournament rolled on. Darian fought next and secured his win after a tense exchange of pushes, using the wind nyx smartly to edge his opponent out. Elara followed, graceful but kind even in combat—she apologized each time she won, then helped her opponent back up after. Her warmth earned a round of applause louder than most matches.
Then came Lloyd. Naro watched closely. He knew Lloyd's noble fire-path family had fallen to Dracula's army from the memories about Lloyd in his past life. Lloyd was someone who trained from childhood. When the match began, his movements were sharp and confident, winning against his opponent in mere moments. He won almost as quickly as Naro—and the crowd began buzzing. Two names whispered louder with every round: Naro and Lloyd.
The battles grew fierce as the weaker trainees were eliminated. The spectators became more invested, split into camps—half chanting for Lloyd, half for Naro. The tension was building.
After a good amount of matches; Elara's turn came, she has to face Lloyd, the match dragged on longer than expected. She fought earnestly, sweat running down her face, but Lloyd's strength eventually overwhelmed her. She stumbled out of the ring, cheeks flushed red, and gave Markus and Naro a funny grin. "Oops, I guess I'm out… you guys better win for me!" Markus and Naro exchanged looks of determination.
Soon, Markus faced Darian. Their fight was explosive—Darian using the wind nyx with cunning precision, Markus relying on raw physical strength. It was back and forth, both nearly thrown out several times, until Markus gritted his teeth and forced Darian out with one final push. The crowd erupted, admiring the clash.
By now the sun was setting low, casting long shadows over the grounds. The tournament had thinned to just a handful of fighters, every match drawing roars from the audience. But no names were shouted louder than Naro and Lloyd.
This time, chances hit; Naro's match against Markus came, the fight was one-sided. Markus gave it his all, muscles straining as he tried to overwhelm his friend, but Naro's technique was too sharp. He toppled Markus cleanly, though afterward he bent over, faking some fatigue, letting Markus think he had forced him to his limit. Markus smiled faintly, pride restored.
Finally—the finale everyone had been waiting for.
Lloyd vs. Naro.
The entire courtyard vibrated with anticipation. Cheers mixed with chants, some for the calm dark-haired boy, others for the fiery prodigy of a noble family. Elizabeth held her hands nervously, hiding her worry. Elara's eyes were wide, lips pressed tight in hope.
The referee raised his arm. "Begin!"
Lloyd lunged immediately, movements sharp, his wind nyx blasting forward in sudden bursts. Naro danced around each strike with effortless grace, his footwork smooth and precise. The crowd gasped at every dodge, the tension crackling in the air.
"Damn it, what's with this guy!?" Lloyd thought, frustration mounting as each of his powerful pushes met nothing but air.
Then Naro struck.
He slipped in close, dangerously close, pressing against Lloyd's guard. In an instant, he seized Lloyd's body with crushing strength. The crowd collectively inhaled.
"A suplex!?" someone shouted.
Before Lloyd could react, Naro lifted him high and slammed him hard into the ground, momentum carrying Lloyd clean out of the ring. The final thud echoed, followed by a stunned silence—then the entire courtyard erupted in cheers.
Naro stood victorious.
Markus exhaled through his nose, half irritated, half impressed. Elara bounced in excitement, clapping wildly. "You did it, you really did it!" she exclaimed, joy spilling from her face as if she'd won herself.
Elizabeth hurried toward Lloyd, sadness in her eyes, but froze when she saw Naro already helping him up—patting him on the shoulder, speaking softly. To the crowd, it looked like kindness. To Lloyd, humiliated and seething, it was salt in the wound. Naro intentionally acted this way to humiliate him further.
Time passed by. After claiming his rewards for reaching Rank 2, Naro hung out with his companions for a while longer before finally leaving to the refining chambers of the academy. These sealed rooms, built to isolate aura fluctuations, were meant for one thing alone—private refinement.
He spread out his spoils before him. A dozen Rank 2 nyx, scattered across a couple of paths: wood, ice, dark, and more. Some leaned toward defense, others attack, healing, or investigation. Though not an ideal, none followed his main path, but it covered gaps in his arsenal. Naro calmly sorted through them, keeping what he lacked and setting aside the rest for later sale.
Before the tournament, his collection of nyx were— four: Serpent Shade, Rot Blossom, Flying Dark Spiral Dagger, and Blood Dash. Now, with his new loot, his foundation was strong enough to step into the Rank 2 Realm.
He closed his eyes. The nyx floated before him, their glows weaving together as his aura wrapped around them like a tightening storm. Hand signs carved through the air, precise and unhurried. The refining chamber thickened with pressure, the air ringing with a high, whistling note. What would have exhausted and broken most trainees barely shook him. After all, he had walked this path before, walking into much higher ranks.
At last, the surge came—clean, sharp, undeniable. His aura erupted, calmed, then settled into a deeper rhythm. Naro had ascended. Rank 2.
With the breakthrough complete, he turned to properly select his arsenal. For offense, he chose the Flying Dark Spiral Dagger and Serpent Shade—swift and lethal. For movement, he had only one, none other than the Blood Dash. Defense called for the sturdy Ice Shield nyx, simple yet reliable, and for restoration, the steady Iron Healing nyx. To round out his load-out, he kept an investigative treasure from his rewards: the Darkness-Beckoning Nyx, a rare utility that pierced even the deepest shadows.
The rest? Weren't as useful. he'll sell those without hesitation.
The next day came, academy grounds buzzed with the afterglow of the tournament. Students carried themselves differently now, some swollen with pride, others humbled by defeat. Naro walked beside Markus and Elara through the courtyard, he stood silent, though he listened to their chatter.
Markus bragged about his match against a Rank 2 trainee, exaggerating the number of blows he had dodged. Elara only rolled her eyes. "If you moved that much, Markus, you'd be too dizzy to stand."
Naro's gaze wandered past them. Lloyd was training in the corner of the yard, his wooden sword slamming through the air, sweat dripping. His expression was grim, but steady. Accepting his loss had forged something new in him—resolve.
Elizebeth was strolling nearby, humming a soothing tone, she winked as she passed Lloyd. His face turned red, and in his distraction, his foot slipped against the ground. The wooden blade swung wide as he balanced himself, nearly falling. Laughter broke out among nearby students.
Markus nudged Naro. "Crushed. Absolutely crushed. Poor guy doesn't stand a chance against her."
Naro gave no reply, though his eyes lingered on Lloyd a moment longer, then just continued walking.
A day passes…
Thalgor's voice carried across the practice field like a hammer striking steel.
"Gather up."
Students obeyed without question. His aura pressed down on them like the weight of mountains, thick and immovable. Markus whispered under his breath, "Why do I feel like I'm marching to my own execution?"
The drills began simple—push-ups, running, sword drills—but Thalgor allowed no breaks, no half-effort. Every failure was punished with more repetitions.
Markus collapsed after his twentieth sprint, gasping, "This is torture."
"Again," Thalgor ordered.
"I can't—"
"You can."
Even Elara, whose endurance was usually reliable, trembled as her arms gave out. She glared at Thalgor, though she said nothing. He didn't spare her.
Naro alone seemed calm. His breathing was steady, his movements precise. But he kept it subtle—no need to draw unwanted suspicion. Still, he noted how Thalgor's aura ground down on them like a hammer on steel. This wasn't cruelty. It was shaping.
By nightfall, students laid across the field, utterly spent. Markus groaned, sprawled face-first. "You're a demon, Thalgor. A giant demon."
Thalgor stood tall, voice level. "You'll thank me when the battlefield doesn't claim you."
Naro watched them in silence.
Another day passes…
The mess of the student group dinner roared with noise. Laughter, boasts, and clattering plates filled the air.
Darian stood atop a bench, thinking he's some sort of royalty. "By next year, I'll be Rank 3! The world will tremble when they hear my name!"
A random answered him. "Sit down, Darian." "We've heard it all before."
From across the hall, someone shouted, "That's assuming you survive Thalgor's training!"
The room erupted in laughter. Darian blushed from embarrassment but didn't dare insult Thalgor. Even his pride wasn't that blind.
Elizabeth plopped beside Elara, tugging on her sleeve. "Elaraaa, you're so serious all the time. Relax before you wrinkle into an old crone."
Elara sighed. "You're insufferable."
Elizabeth giggled. "Cute when you're annoyed though." Her gaze slid across the room to Lloyd, who sat stiffly, eating alone. She waved at him with a dazzling smile. Lloyd nearly dropped his spoon.
Markus leaned in to Naro. "He's doomed. Completely doomed."
This time, Naro shakes his head and lets out a chuckle.
Everyone went back to their rooms.. and yet again another day passes…
That morning, Naro woke up early for refinement class. Together with Markus and Elara, he made his way to the refinement chamber, where streams of students were already gathering.
Their instructor awaited them at the front—beautiful despite her age, with long wavy brown hair and wide green eyes shining with authority.
The chamber itself shimmered with light. As students began their exercises, the air filled with shifting glows—threads of aura weaving together, flaring and faltering as each trainee struggled to balance their nyx.
Elara's aura shimmered steadily until Markus, beside her, lost control and his nyx sputtered wildly. The surge nearly cracked her formation. She gritted her teeth.
"Markus!"
"I—sorry!" His hands trembled as he tried to recover.
Before disaster struck, The green eyed teacher's hand gripped Markus' shoulder. Her voice was clearly furious.
"Focus. If you lose control here, you'll kill more than just yourself on the battlefield."
Markus swallowed hard. "Y-yes."
Naro finished his exercise effortlessly but made sure to mimic strain, pretending his aura wavered. He could not reveal his true refinement mastery—not yet. Still, he watched the others closely. Each failure, each struggle, was a window into their weaknesses.
Later that day, Markus dragged Naro and Elara to the lake at the edge of the academy grounds. Students laughed, splashed, and lounged in the sun. For once, training felt far away.
Markus jumped into the water, sending a huge splash onto Elara, annoyed, she started him down as if her eyes were daggers.
"You're dead."
Markus smiled, wiping water from his face. "Worth it."
Elizabeth sat on a rock, skipping stones across the water. Lloyd sitting at a distance, his arms crossed, gaze flicking toward her every so often before quickly looking away whenever she glanced back.
Elara sighed, brushing the water from her face. "You act like a child."
"And yet," Markus said, swimming in circles, "you all followed me here."
Elara opened her mouth to argue, then closed it, cheeks faintly pink. Naro, watching from the back, noticed but said nothing.
Elizabeth tossed another stone; it bounced three times before sinking. She leaned back on her hands with a soft hum, sunlight shining on her hair. Nearby students laughed, teased, and shouted, but she seemed in her own little world. Lloyd shifted uncomfortably, half-torn between walking over or staying rooted in place. His jaw tightened. One day, he thought, I won't just stand here.
Darian eventually strutted down the path, towel slung over his shoulder like a king's cloak. "Ah, behold! The academy's finest gather at my arrival!" he announced. Students groaned, some laughing, others rolling their eyes.
Even so, Darian's personality only added to the atmosphere—half annoyance, half amusement. For a brief stretch of time, the lake felt like a sanctuary. The worries of rankings, drills, and endless training seemed far away.
Naro stood at the edge, arms crossed, watching his companions. For all the noise and chaos, there was warmth here.
…
The days repeated in a similar manner, each one echoing the last—training, studying, sparring, and laughter. Seasons turned, and before long, an entire year had passed. At last, the academy granted its students a break: time to rest, and the chance for trainees to return to their families.