Morning crept over the coast of Madrigal. The sun's rays reflecting the blue and pink sky, shimmering into the endless distance. Layered rings of vibrant colors brushed over the kingdom as if the world itself was beginning to awake. Except there were many who were already awake, and standing ready for what was to come.
First-year students filled the open arena without a word. All trying to look composed. All staring at on woman who's words demanded obedience.
Headmaster Seraphine stood still like water, her hat tilted just enough to reveal her violet eyes, narrow, searching, and calm. Behind her loomed Elder Glognir, arms folded, and his jaw clenched. Veala alongside other staff were already sitting, awaiting the headmaster's words. And most out of place, sumire, sat in the back row, baring a white robe, calm as winter.
Kaito's throat was dry. The arena stretched wide: pale sand, desert stone, and weapons lined up just outside like the teeth of a great jaw. He flexed his hand. Pina, resting on his shoulder per usual, flicked her tail and blinked her golden eyes.
"Don't faint," Mikele muttered beside of him, with his hands in his pockets. His messy blue hair blew in the morning wind, but his demeanor was careless as always.
Kaito nodded, and began to steady his breathing. "Right. Its just like old times. You and me. Another trial, even if this one is a bit bigger than the rest, it changes nothing."
Mikele turned to him matching his gaze. And for the first time in a while, he lets out a genuine smile. "That's right." Raising up his fist, Kaito meets it with his own. "Just like always."
A bell rang, and silence fell.
Seraphine stepped forward. Her voice was clear, calm, and carried without effort.
"Welcome to your entrance exams. Your goal today is simple. You will leave a mark upon the staff, or you will be sent home to attend a lesser, more common academy, or sent to work. Onsen's academy is the most prestigious place a young man or woman can attend in the West. It is an honor, and one many of you do not deserve."
She takes a step in front of the crowd, violet orbs scanning over each face, before coming to a stop in the center. Raising a hand on her hip gracefully, her words march on, "You will fight. That is it. There are protective wards on all of the weapons, and over the arena to prevent lethal damage, but if you are in a situation where you would die, you will instead be knocked unconscious and your exam will end. Elder Glognir, if you would be so kind as to take it from here."
"Happily." And with a single step, the arena rumbled under his might, tension sweeping across the students like a plague. "Armory is just outside of the arena to your left. You will enter the gate, pick your weapons then proceed back out onto the battlefield. Fighting will not begin until the signal is given." He turned around and began to walk back to the staff before pausing, "Oh, and pick something you can actually lift."
Uneasy laughter flickered, then died.
"Go on now!" He yelled, and the crowd rushed in unison.
Suddently, Vaela appeared at Kaito's side without a sound. He didn't see her move, only the air brushing against him.
"Pina likes you," she said, quietly. "That means she'll wander into the campus more often. If you get expelled today, I will be very unhappy. You do not want that."
Kaito nodded quickly, sweat forming on his brow. "Y-yes, instructor."
Mikele grinned. "You have a fan."
Pina chirped triumphantly, then hopped on Vaela's shoulder. Looking at Kaito she blinks slowly, as if saying a quiet goodbye.
"Move," Vaela said, already turning away. "Five minutes." Then with a whisper she began to conversate with Pina. "You want to watch the exams with me don't you Pina? I'm sure you do-"
"Lets… get moving." Kaito muttered before slapping Mikele in the back.
"Y-yeah…"
The armory was a dream of steel and wood. Spear etched with dragons. Shortswords worn smooth by training. Silvered shields. Blunt daggers for practice. And over all the weapons; A faint blue shimmer of protection magic covered everything, like thin glass.
Kaito chose a sword. Not elegant. Not ugly. It simply felt right.
Mikele took a single dagger and nothing else, flipping it once through his fingers. "Try not to get knocked out."
"I'll avoid that," Kaito huffed.
"Ambitious."
The bell rang a second time.
The crowd filtered into the arena, as wooden wheels screeched slamming the doors shut behind the last students. Sand shifted under their boots. The arena seemed to hold it's breath.
Weapon in hand, Kaito glanced across the expanse. Hundreds of eyes watched from the stone seats. Some eager. Some terrified. Staff members sat like carved statues beneath the rising sun.
Seraphine lifted her hand.
"This will not be fought one pair at a time," she said. "All of you. At once."
Seraphine let the words hang, intensity shrouding the atmosphere. "Ready your weapons."
The stands were already full before the bell.
Second years filled the middle rows, louder and looser, pointing out weapons on the racks and placing loud bets they would later pretend they never made.
The third years owned the top tier like an old, comfortable throne, ten students in silver trim, and three that everyone kept looking at. Even among these distinguished students who survived their way to the last year, three third years stood above the rest.
Cassian Holt, broad shouldered and motionless, a quiet blade across his knees.
Alia Arclight, legs crossed, fingers steepled, eyes like amber glass, taking notes on people's tells as if cataloging a library.
Rhea Sorn, hair bound high, spear resting against her shoulder, posture perfect and bored, the kind of bored that only comes from being better than most.
Headmaster Seraphine stood with the elders beneath the shade of the dragon banners, still as a winter lake.
Glorgnir folded his arms and the wood under him complained.
Sumire stood slightly behind Seraphine with the staff, white sleeves folded, chin lifted, a single ribbon of cobalt hair slipping forward, watching the floor with a look Kaito did not understand, something between worry and pride.
"There sure is a lot of important looking people watching us..." Kaito stammered, twiddling his blade around.
"Yeah, that's why you have to show what you can do. You're as strong as you are dumb, so I think you'll be okay."
"Thanks?..."
The final bell screeched.
The whole arena breathed to life.
Not with cheers. Not with order.
But with chaos.
The first-years exploded into motion the moment the bell's final echo faded. Steel clashed against steel. Boots tore across sand. Someone screamed. Metal smashed into metal.
The protective barrier around the arena shimmered faintly in response to the sudden surge of raw force and panic.
Kaito exhaled once, steady. "Here we go."
He barely had time to draw his sword before two boys from another house rushed him. Their swings were wild, desperate. Kaito sidestepped the first, blocked the second, then shoved them back using the flat of his blade.
"Don't get in my way," he muttered. Not cruel. Just honest.
To his left, Rehm—broad shouldered, eyes hard—lowered his shield like a bull ready to charge. He slammed into a cluster of students, sending one flying into the dirt. Another swung at him; Rehm caught the blade on his shield, ducked, and drove his fist into the attacker's stomach. The crack of impact echoed across the arena. Even Glorgnir raised a brow.
On the opposite side, Regan moved like water.
Twin short swords glinted in her hands as she weaved between opponents. Graceful, precise. She didn't waste a single swing. Every motion flowed into the next—parry, step, strike. A boy twice her size collapsed under a clean hit to the ribs.
Lysander stood a short distance away, untouched.
While chaos ruled the arena, he remained composed. Blond hair tied neatly. Uniform spotless. Sword held in a flawless stance. He noticed Kaito watching and gave a slight, elegant bow—mocking.
"Try not to embarrass House Dormis," Lysander said lightly, voice dripping with smug confidence.
"Try not to choke on your own ego," Kaito shot back.
Lysander only smiled and stepped forward.
With dancer-like precision, he deflected three incoming strikes in a single motion. His blade flashed, tapping each opponent, not to harm, just to prove he could. They fell back, shaken.
"Look at you showing off." Kaito called out, but his face wore a grin.
Students shouted. Dust rose. The exam had barely begun.
Above it all, watching silently from a stone balcony, sat Headmaster Seraphine.
Cold. Still. Eyes sharp as drawn glass.
Beside her, Elder Glorgnir's arms were crossed like a mountain waiting to move. Instructor Vaela leaned back against the railing, expression unreadable. Sumire stood near the elders, white robes folding quietly around her. Hands clasped. Eyes lowered.
But when Kaito moved, when he blocked another hit, face steady despite the chaos, her gaze lifted.
Only for a moment.
Back on the field, Rehm plowed through another group. Regan danced past fallen bodies. Lysander gleamed like a polished sword.
Then—
A roar of flame.
Heads turned.
Lesona stepped forward at the center of the arena.
Tall. Composed. Mace in hand. Sparks of fire coiled around the steel like tame serpents.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"She's using magic—already?"
"In a first-year exam?"
"Since when can she—"
A boy from House Veyra lunged at her, spear raised.
Lesona didn't flinch.
Her foot shifted, heat swirling around her boot, and she swung.
Flame burst from her mace. The spear melted at the tip before it even touched her. The boy screamed as the ground exploded beneath him, sending him crashing back in a plume of scorched sand.
Silence.
Then cheers.
Glorgnir's eyes narrowed.
Headmaster Seraphine's lips curved—slightly.
And somewhere near the edge of the arena, Mikele watched from the shadows of the archway, eyes half-lidded, like he had expected this.
Lesona pointed her mace toward the remaining students.
"Stand," she said softly. "Or leave."
No one moved.
Then someone did.
Rehm furrowed his brow, lifted his shield, and charged.
Sand ripped under his boots. The shield ate distance. He was a wall with legs, and walls do not hesitate. Lesona simply stood, her mace waiting in her hand.
Heat swirled around her ankles, then a rush, and the air in front of her wavered. Her eyes never left Rehm's.
He hit first, the shield slamming forward with a crack that echoed throughout the arena. Blocking with her mace, Lesona took one step back. Only one.
Rehm didn't give, bringing his left fist upward in an arc. The blow would've shattered ribs... Fire rolled off of her robes in a thin curtain, and the punch struck heat instead of flesh. He grunted as steam rose from his hand, his skin burned black at the knuckles.
Rehm pushed harder.
Lesona let him.
He didn't notice.
Not until the sand beneath his boots began to glow faintly orange.
He looked down.
Too late.
Heat exploded upward.
Flame burst from the ground like a blooming flower, swallowing his legs in roaring fire. His shield dropped, molten heat searing the protective wards to their limits. The crowd gasped as the arena barrier shimmered violently, absorbing what would've melted flesh from bone.
Rehm roared, tried to pull free, Lesona spun her mace once, redirected the flames, and struck the center of his shield with the head of her weapon.
BOOM.
Rehm's shield launched backward like scrap metal. The force lifted him off his feet. His body slammed into the protective barrier of the arena wall. Magic surged. The ward flashed deep gold—then dimmed.
Rehm collapsed to his knees, shield arm twitching. Steam rose from his gauntlet. The light blue ward on his shield faded into red.
Unconscious. Eliminated.
Silence.
Then—rising noise.
"Holy—"
"She just—"
"That was Rehm!"
Students backed away from Lesona without realizing they were moving. The heat still sizzled off the sand around her boots. She stood untouched. Barely winded.
She turned her head slightly. Not to the crowd.
To the staff seats.
To Headmaster Seraphine.
Seraphine nodded once.
Lesona lowered her mace.
Kaito swallowed.
Mikele watched, unreadable.
From the balcony, Sumire's eyes drifted, not to Lesona, not to Rehm.
But to Kaito.
As if checking if he was frightened.
He wasn't.
Not enough to stop him.
Lesona's voice carried, clear and steady.
"You've been eyeing me as if you're hungry for a fight right?"
Her gaze swept the field—
—and stopped.
On Kaito.
Sand shifted beneath his boots.
He stepped forward.
Sword in hand.
Mikele exhaled, almost a laugh. "There he goes."
Lysander, shock written all over his face stumbled on his words, "A-after seeing that, your first instinct is to run towards her?"
"It's my turn to show off yeah?"
"Y-you...!"
He walked.
Step by step.
Toward Lesona.
Toward the fire.
Toward every eye in Onsen's Academy.
He didn't run. He didn't shout. He just walked—calm, steady—past the fallen, stopping a few paces from her.
Lesona's eyes shifted to him. "Akusa's boy. Let's see what you have for me."
Kaito rolled his shoulders once. "Yeah. Same to you."
Mikele didn't call out to stop him.
Sumire lifted her head.
Around them, the chaos of the free-for-all—blades clashing, students shouting—began to die. One by one, heads turned. A space formed around the two like the arena itself was holding its breath.
Lesona lifted her mace. "Very well."
Kaito lifted his sword.
The heat between them shimmered.
Then they moved.
Her mace swung low, a trail of fire following the iron. Kaito stepped in, not back, his blade crashed against the haft before it gained speed. Sparks. Flame sprayed across his arm. His clothes singed, but he didn't flinch.
He shoved.
Hard.
Lesona slid back two steps.
The stands murmured.
"Did he just—?"
"Without magic?"
Lesona's brows tightened a fraction.
She came again. Faster.
Her footwork wasn't just strength, it was precise, refined. Each strike was backed by flame, her muscles rippling with magically enhanced force.
Kaito parried one, ducked another, and let the third crash into his shoulder.
A shockwave rippled. Dust kicked up under his feet.
But he didn't fall.
He raised his sword again.
From the stands, Rhea Sorn's spear lowered a hair. Cassian's hand rested on the hilt of his blade. Alia Arclight's quill froze above the parchment—eyes narrowed, studying.
Lesona's lips parted slightly. Not in shock.
In interest.
She twisted, flame bursting from her heel, and brought her mace down in a blazing arc.
Kaito caught it on the flat of his blade.
Steel groaned.
Flame roared.
Kaito's boots sank an inch into the sand.
But he held.
Heat licked his face. His skin reddened. His arm trembled.
Still, he held.
He pushed up.
His sword slid under the mace and, using that force, Kaito stepped in and drove his fist into her stomach.
Not with magic.
Not with technique.
With raw strength.
The impact echoed.
Lesona's breath hitched. Her feet slid back again, three full steps this time.
The arena went silent.
Even the third-years sat forward.
Glorgnir's eyes narrowed.
Veala stopped petting Pina.
Sumire exhaled, barely, fingers tightening against her sleeves.
Lesona straightened. A faint burn smoldered on her side where his fist landed.
"You're strong," she said quietly.
Kaito's chest rose with heavy breaths. His sleeve was half-burnt. Sweat mixed with soot down his jaw.
"And you're a monster that likes to play with flames," he panted. "But I'm not done yet."
Flame roared to life around Lesona's feet, brighter than before. The heat rippled the air. Her eyes sharpened.
"This," she said, "is more than physical strength."
She raised her mace.
Fire spiraled.
Kaito lunged.
She swung.
Flame met steel.
The collision burst like thunder.
Sand exploded around them. Heat rolled through the arena. Students shielded their eyes.
Kaito skidded backwards, boots carving lines. His sword shook in his grip.
Lesona didn't let up.
Fire danced up her arms as she struck again.
And again.
Each blow forced him back. His arms screamed. His lungs burned. A blister opened on his palm, blood trailing down the hilt.
Still, he advanced.
Not dodging. Not retreating.
Walking through flame.
Sumire's lips parted, breath caught in her throat.
"Why…" she whispered.
Mikele watched, unreadable.
Kaito reached her.
Their weapons locked.
Her mace burned molten red at the head.
His blade hissed from the heat.
Lesona leaned forward, voice low enough only he heard.
"Why aren't you falling?"
Kaito met her gaze.
"…People are watching."
His legs trembled. His vision blurred at the edges. But he forced his feet to root into the scorched earth.
"That's all?" she said.
"Certain people that I don't..." he wheezed, his words struggling to escape, "want to embarrass myself in front of."
Her eyes flashed.
Flame burst from the ground beneath him.
The explosion sent him flying.
Kaito crashed into the sand, rolled, and landed on one knee.
His sword dug into the dirt.
Smoke rose from his back. His uniform was half-charred. Blood beaded on his forehead.
Silence.
Lesona stood, mace lowering, fire dimming. She didn't advance. She waited.
Kaito tried to stand.
His knee quivered.
He planted his sword, tried again.
And again.
Every limb shaking.
He stood.
Barely.
But he stood.
A ripple swept through the arena.
Third-years stared.
Staff watched in silence.
Sumire's hands rose to her chest.
He took one step forward.
Lesona's eyes widened a fraction.
A hand landed on Kaito's shoulder.
Mikele.
He leaned down, voice calm.
"Hey." A small grin. "I'm always here when you fall, right?"
Kaito tried to speak.
Mikele shook his head. "You made your impression. Let me finish it."
Kaito exhaled.
Then nodded, sword lowering.
And in the stands, Pina chirped, soft, proud.
Mikele stepped past him.
Lesona raised her mace again, flames coiling.
Mikele stepped forward, stopping halfway between Kaito and Lesona. His posture was relaxed, too relaxed for someone about to fight a walking inferno. He rolled his shoulders once, spun the dagger in his hand, and exhaled.
Lesona watched him carefully. No words this time. The flames around her mace hummed like a heartbeat.
Sand shifted.
Then Mikele moved.
Not like Kaito.
Not like Rehm's brute force or Regan's polished grace.
Mikele moved like a shadow slipping between flames.
Lesona swung first, mace arcing in a wide blaze meant to crush and burn. Mikele stepped just close enough that the fire licked past him, his dagger scraping along the haft of her weapon before he pivoted out of reach again. No sparks. No clash. Just precision.
He struck once, flat of the dagger against her wrist. Not to wound. To test.
She didn't flinch.
She struck again, low, a sweeping flame meant to take out his legs.
Mikele jumped, landing lightly on one foot, dagger drawn in a reverse grip.
"Slippery," Lesona muttered.
"Trying my best," he replied casually.
Around the arena, students who had been watching Lesona's rampage. one by one, backed away, forming a ring around the two.
Kaito stood outside the circle now, breathing hard, ash on his sleeves, eyes fixed only on them.
Sumire had a hand covering her chest. She didn't even realize she was holding her breath.
On the balcony, Seraphine leaned her chin against her knuckles. Glorgnir's jaw tightened.
Then Lesona advanced, faster.
Her mace spun, flames trailing behind like ribbons. Each strike was heavier than the last. Mikele blocked one, redirected another, slid under a third, sand spraying beneath him.
But Lesona wasn't like the others.
Her flame-enhanced strength forced him back.
She kicked not with flames, but raw force, and Mikele slid across the sand.
He stopped on one knee.
Dagger held sideways.
Expression unchanged.
Lesona lifted her mace, heat gathering like a storm around her. "If you won't take this seriously, you'll burn."
Mikele looked at his dagger.
Then at his hand.
"…Alright," he said softly. "Guess I'll try a little."
He raised his free hand.
Two fingers traced a symbol; Quick, precise, burned into muscle memory.
His voice was low.
"Gale Step."
The air beneath his feet exploded.
He vanished.
Not in fire.
Not in light.
In wind.
Lesona's eyes widened, the mace struck only sand.
Gasps rippled across the arena.
"What—"
"Was that—magic?"
"No way—someone else—"
Even the elders shifted.
Seraphine's violet eyes followed Mikele's new position, now standing behind Lesona, wind swirling faintly around his ankles.
Sumire's lips parted, silent.
Kaito's eyes grew.
Veala stopped mid-pet, Pina's golden eyes wide and staring.
Lesona turned. Slowly. Her flame dimming with caution now. "You—"
Mikele shrugged lightly. "First spell I ever learned."
He flicked his dagger once, spinning it around his finger.
Lesona's brows lowered. Her voice was quieter. "…You've been hiding this."
Mikele didn't deny it.
He didn't speak at all.
He just stepped forward again.
This time faster.
He slashed once, dagger wrapped in wind, the air hissing off the blade.
Lesona blocked with the handle of her mace, but the force still forced her back a half-step.
She swung—fireburst.
Mikele ducked under—
Hand lifted.
"Stonebind."
The sand beneath her feet hardened instantly into thick stone, clutching at her ankles like hands dragging her down.
Fire roared, she shattered it with a single burst, breaking free,
But her eyes were on him now.
Not with rage.
Not with fear.
With realization.
Now she understood.
Kaito was a wall.
Rehm was a battering ram.
But Mikele—
Mikele was the most annoying kind of opponent.
The one who did not overpower you.
The one who would not give you room to breathe.
The one who refused to fight how you wanted.
Wind circled his feet.
Stone cracked under hers.
And he hadn't even broken a sweat.
Her grip tightened on the burning mace.
His on the dagger.
The real fight had only just started.
Lesona's flames surged higher.
The air around her rippled with heat. Sand turned to faint glass beneath her feet. Students closest to the center stumbled backward, shielding their faces.
Mikele just sighed.
He twirled the dagger once.
"Don't hold back on my account."
Lesona didn't respond with words.
She moved.
Fire burst from under her heel as she lunged. The mace came down like a comet, the air screaming around it.
Mikele's foot slid back.
His free hand traced a sharp, jagged line.
"Water Veil."
A thin film of rippling water spun into existence between them. The flaming mace collided, steam erupting like thunder. The barrier shattered, but the blow was slowed, just enough.
Mikele leaned to the side, dodging the strike by inches. His dagger whipped out—aimed at her exposed side.
Lesona twisted, blocking it with the shaft of her weapon. Fire shot up her arm, forcing Mikele back.
He clicked his tongue.
"Alright...didn't like that one."
Lesona didn't give him time to think.
She was already on him again.
Her mace spun, flames now so dense they bent the air. Each strike heavier. Faster. Heat stung the sand under their feet.
Mikele blocked one.
Evaded two.
A third grazed his sleeve, cloth charred to black.
He didn't smile.
He didn't panic.
He simply moved.
Fast.
"Gale Step."
Wind exploded beneath his feet—he vanished again, reappearing at her flank. His dagger slashed at her arm—
She caught it.
Barehanded.
Flames spiraled around her palm, gripping the blade.
A hush fell over the arena.
Her eyes were cold now.
"You're clever," she said. "Annoying. But clever."
She twisted her wrist, forcing him back.
"But you lack power."
She raised her mace.
Flame gathered, denser than before. The arena grew hot enough the wards shivered.
Above, Sumire took one involuntary step forward.
Kaito's hand gripped his sword.
Even Seraphine's lips parted.
Lesona's flames spiraled upward, forming a vortex around her weapon.
"This ends—"
She swung.
It never landed.
Sand rose.
Not by flame.
By wind and water tangled together, forming a spiral, small, unstable, but enough.
"Torrent Coil."
The spell exploded between them, steam erupting where fire met water, air howling where wind fed both.
The flame strike broke apart.
Lesona stepped back, eyes narrowed.
"Enough of your amateur magic... Using multiple elements is impressive, but you haven't come close to mastering any of them. That will be your loss."
Mikele's chest rose and fell faster now, sweat beading on his forehead.
His dagger trembled once in his grasp.
But he didn't fall.
He didn't back away.
He stepped in.
And whispered, barely loud enough—
"Fourth."
He lifted his hand.
A simple circle, drawn into the air with a fingertip.
A pulse.
"Bind Root."
Thin green vines burst up from the cracked sand, coiling around Lesona's ankle and wrist in a single breath.
Not strong.
Not meant to hurt.
Just enough to halt her movement for a moment.
And in that moment—
A dagger touched the base of her throat.
Not cutting.
Resting.
Quiet.
Every flame around her went still.
Lesona breathed in.
Breathed out.
Fire dimmed.
Her mace lowered.
"Don't make me do it." He whispered in her ear.
The vines burned to ash and drifted into the air.
"I yield."
Her voice wasn't trembling.
It was steady.
Calm.
Respectful.
The arena exhaled all at once.
Students gasped.
Some stared.
Some cheered.
Up on the balcony:
Cassian Holt nodded once.
Rhea Sorn closed her eyes with the faintest smile.
Alia Arclight was already writing again.
Sumire stared, not at Lesona.
At Mikele.
Kaito grinned through bruises and ash, relief flickering across his face.
Veala smirked, scratching Pina under the chin.
Pina chirped, proud as a queen.
And Headmaster Seraphine?
She leaned forward just slightly.
As if to say—
Finally.
The battlefield was quiet but not empty.
Students still stood scattered across the arena — some bruised, some burned, some barely on their feet. Every eye was locked on Lesona, still kneeling with her mace lowered, and on Mikele, who stood a few paces away, chest rising steadily, dagger resting loosely in his hand.
Her flame finally went out.
The heat in the air thinned.
Headmaster Seraphine stepped forward.
"That is enough."
Her voice cut through the silence like cold steel.
All remaining students froze.
"The entrance examination is concluded. Every one of your performances has been observed. Every strength. Every failure. Your futures at this academy have already been decided."
No cheers.
No whispers.
Just silence. Heavy and absolute.
Lesona slowly stood. She sheathed her mace without a word, jaw tight, pride scorched but not shattered.
Kaito, still barely standing, exhaled hard and sat in the sand before his legs gave out completely. Pina bounded off the railing, scampered across the arena, and leapt straight into his lap, chirring angrily at the burns on his arms.
"I'm fine," he muttered.
Pina chirped louder, as if calling him a liar.
From the staff balcony, Vaela smirked faintly.
Sumire stood behind the elders. Her hands were clasped, sleeves hiding her fingers, but her gaze never left Kaito. Not once.
Students began to shift, some staggering toward the edges, some collapsing where they stood.
Mikele turned to Kaito, offering a hand.
Kaito stared at it for a moment, then took it and hauled himself up with a groan. "You always show up at the end."
Mikele grinned. "And you always make a mess I have to clean."
Before Kaito could respond, a shadow fell over them.
Lesona.
Her eyes were sharp again, but steadier than before. She extended a hand, not to fight.
"To both of you," she said quietly. "Well fought."
Kaito blinked.
Mikele shook her hand. "You hit hard."
"You are insufferable," she replied.
"Thanks."
She turned away before they could see the faint smile at the corner of her lips.
High above, the third-years began to rise from their seats.
Cassian Holt stood, sword resting across his back, saying nothing.
Rhea Sorn gave a short nod, like a warrior acknowledging another.
Alia Arclight… did not stand immediately.
She watched Mikele.
Eyes narrowed. Curious. Calculating.
Then she moved.
Quiet. Controlled. She descended the stairs from the third-year seats like stepping down from a throne, her silver-trimmed uniform dragging the air behind her.
Mikele noticed her when she was only a few steps away.
She stopped just outside his reach.
"You," she said simply.
Mikele blinked. "Me."
"You used magic." Not a question.
He nodded once.
"You are not a noble. Not clergy. Not trained. Yet you shaped mana. That should be impossible."
Mikele shrugged. "I read books."
Alia's lips curled, but not in amusement. More like someone discovering a crack in a perfect wall. "You are either lying or dangerous."
Kaito stepped forward. "Whoa—"
She didn't look at him. Her gaze stayed on Mikele. Sharp. Intrigued. Almost hungry for answers.
"I will be watching you," she said.
Mikele raised a brow. "Creepy."
Alia blinked once. "That's fine."
Then she turned and walked away.
The sand was stained with dirt and scorch marks. The air still smelled of smoke and iron.
Seraphine lifted her hand again.
"Those who remain standing — return to your dormitories. Results will be delivered by evening bell. If your name is not on the list… pack your things."
Students began to move. Limping. Laughing weakly. Some crying quietly.
Kaito stared at the sky, breath still heavy.
Mikele nudged him. "We didn't die."
"Yet," Kaito said.
Pina chirped. Agitated. Proud. Then curled into Kaito's lap like she had already claimed victory for them.
And for a moment just a moment the world felt calm.