The basalt hall swallowed sound.
It was a wide, hollowed-out arena buried deep in the academy's foundation. The air was frigid, kept at a preservation-grade temperature by the cooling arrays etched into the vaulted ceiling.
Vane stood at the edge of the central circle. His weight was centered. Beside him, Valerica and Ashe stood silent. Their eyes were locked on the man in the center of the ring.
Instructor Thorne.
He was a Rank 6 Expert. In the hierarchy of the Empire, that made him a walking natural disaster. But unlike the suffocating, reality-bending presence of the Headmistress, Thorne was grounded. His mana was dense. It settled around him like a mountain that had weathered a thousand winters. He occupied the space with the undeniable gravity of a physical object.
Across the ring stood the Second Years.
