"Well people, we're almost done with the second phase of the E.A.C. Entrance Exam!" Kiyoshi's voice blasted through the loudspeakers.
"I guess we're nearing the end," Jonetsu said, stretching with a sigh. He glanced over. "Time to wake this guy up."
"Hey, Zakou. WAKE UP." Smack.
"AHHHH—THE EXAM!" I jolted upright, gasping.
"Haha! Wh-what's wrong, Zakou-kun?" Misaki giggled.
"Relax," Jonetsu said flatly. "They're starting the Physical Conjuration phase. We just watch."
On stage, Goku-sensei stepped forward with a serious tone.
"All right. We'll now begin the Weapon Conjuration Phase—exclusively for those with Physical-type Elements," he announced, his voice cutting clean across the stadium. "Each applicant will summon a weapon formed directly from their Elemental Resonance. This weapon reflects not only your Element, but your will."
Kiyoshi popped in behind him, practically bouncing. "AND BOY ARE WE IN FOR A SHOW! Up first—OGOSAWARA TATSUYA!"
The crowd buzzed as Ogosawara walked onto the stage, calm and collected.
He raised one arm—and with a loud crack, jagged draconic claws burst from his fingers, curling like molten bone. A gust of wind followed the sound, and the stage cracked beneath his feet.
"He wasn't bluffing," I muttered.
Jonetsu nodded. "His core's matured fast. That's dangerous."
The claws shimmered faintly, then retracted back into his hand as he turned and walked off like nothing had happened.
"Next up," Kiyoshi shouted, "we've got TODOMARU MISAKI!"
"Go, Misaki!" I whispered, gripping the railing.
She walked forward with that same radiant energy—light on her feet, posture relaxed, eyes full of purpose. No nerves. Just calm, confident rhythm.
"She's Physical?" I asked Jonetsu.
"Metal user. She qualifies," he replied. "Just wait."
Misaki stepped onto the stage and took a breath. Her expression softened, like she was tuning herself to a song only she could hear.
She raised her arm—and metal shimmered into existence, not sharp or rigid, but fluid, coiling like living mercury.
It wound itself into a staff, long and seamless, with subtle etched patterns along its sides. Then—click—the ends split into twin crescent blades.
She spun it effortlessly—once, twice—before slamming one end down. The weapon instantly compressed into a shorter baton, then lengthened again into its full staff form as she pivoted gracefully.
The metal rippled slightly, responding to her movement like an extension of her own body.
"Whoa…" I murmured.
Jonetsu nodded. "It's morphic. A resonance-forged alloy—only the most in-sync users can pull that off."
"DEAR GOD, DID YOU SEE THAT?!" Kiyoshi screamed. "THEY GAVE HER METAL, AND SHE MADE IT DANCE!"
The staff dissolved back into glimmering particles as Misaki turned, gave us a playful wink, and descended the steps.
"She didn't even break a sweat," I muttered.
"That's Misaki," Jonetsu said flatly. "Joyful on the outside. Lethal underneath."
As Misaki stepped off the platform, the shimmering metal staff retracted into a compact, coiled form across her back—its surface still humming with kinetic energy.
"Hey," I asked quietly, "what do you call that thing?"
She looked over her shoulder with a smile. "Metsuho."
"Metsuho?" I repeated.
"It means 'Blade of Calm Destruction.'" Her fingers brushed the staff gently. "It was a name my mother gave it… before she ever saw me use it. She said if I ever had to fight, I should do it with grace. Never with hate."
I blinked. "That's… kind of beautiful."
Misaki turned back toward the stage. "It's a reminder. That no matter how strong I get, I should never lose who I am."
"NEXT UP—RENJI TAKAOMI!"
Kiyoshi's voice echoed through the coliseum like a spark in dry grass.
The crowd murmured, unfamiliar with the name.
"Never heard of him."
"Huh… doesn't ring a bell."
"Another no-name?"
But beside me, Jonetsu's brow furrowed.
"…Takaomi?" he muttered.
I glanced at him. "You know that name?"
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. It's not a name people toss around. Only shows up in high-clearance files."
My heart skipped. "Wait… is he—?"
"Shhh," Jonetsu warned, eyes fixed on the stage. "Let's just watch."
Across the row, Ogosawara tilted his head just slightly, expression unreadable. But his gaze sharpened. Like he'd just recognized a predator in a room full of prey.
Renji Takaomi walked out—not flashy, not nervous. Just… quiet. Controlled. His golden eyes swept the stadium once, impassively, then settled forward. Focused.
He didn't stand like someone trying to impress anyone.
He stood like someone used to watching from above.
On stage, Renji Takaomi emerged with the quiet authority of someone who didn't need to prove anything—but would anyway. His presence cut through the noise like a blade. The tension in the air shifted.
He walked with perfect, sharp control—every movement silent and smooth, like a hawk descending toward prey.
He didn't smile. He didn't wave.
But his eyes…
They were different.
Not just golden—but shaped like a bird of prey. Piercing. Focused. His pupils were razor-thin slits, twitching and adjusting to movement around him with unnerving speed. Even from the stands, you could feel it: those weren't the eyes of a student.
They were the eyes of a hunter.
"That stare…" Jonetsu muttered. "He's watching everything. Even us."
Renji reached the center of the platform and raised both arms out to his sides—then flexed his shoulders.
With a sharp shhrpphh, golden-brown feathers burst across his forearms. In seconds, they had shaped themselves into wings—sleek, powerful, and perfectly symmetrical. The transformation wasn't grotesque or monstrous. It was elegant. Controlled.
"The Hawk Element…" I whispered. "He really has it…"
Then, with silent precision, pluck—he drew a single feather from the edge of his right wing. The moment it left his body, it began to morph.
Feather turned to light.
Light turned to metal.
And in his hand now was a curved blade, shaped like the arc of flight. A second feather followed. Now he held twin skyblades, forged not from steel, but from the essence of his own wings.
WHIRRRRRR.
The blades vibrated softly, cutting the air with a high-pitched tone like the scream of wind through mountaintops.
Renji stood as both weapon and wielder.
"Holy crap," someone whispered nearby.
Kiyoshi finally snapped out of his shock.
"UNBELIEVABLE! RENJI TAKAOMI JUST SHREDDED EXPECTATIONS! LITERAL BLADES FROM HIS WINGS—A FALCON WITH FANGS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!"
Renji didn't react to the praise. He let his blades fade to gold dust, wings vanishing into his skin with a soft whump, and turned to leave.
But before he disappeared down the steps, his hawk-like eyes flicked up toward our section in the crowd—and met mine.
Just for a second.
It was like being spotted from above. Seen entirely. Judged. And left alive only because I wasn't worth hunting… yet.
I exhaled shakily. "That guy's on another level."
Jonetsu nodded. "Yeah. And he hasn't even awakened yet."
"Up next!" Kiyoshi grinned. "YUMIKO UMEMOTO!"
Yumiko strode confidently onto the platform. She was already famous for her Poison Element—but what she conjured was far more terrifying than expected.
A slim, jagged dagger shimmered to life in her hand, coated with a translucent green film that steamed faintly.
"Fast. Precise. Deadly," Misaki murmured next to me.
"Good thing I'm immune to that," I muttered, "but still—not something I'd want anywhere near me."
Misaki blinked, turning toward me with wide eyes.
"Wait—immune?" she said, half-whisper, half-shocked.
I nodded. "Mostly. My body neutralizes toxins pretty fast."
She stared at me like I'd just grown wings. "That's… insanely unfair."
Jonetsu snorted. "He still whines about spicy food, though."
"That's different!" I snapped.
Misaki giggled behind her hand. "You're full of surprises, Zakou-kun."
She gave a quick spin of the blade before vanishing it into mist and exiting the stage.
After a few more students went—including a guy who created spiked beetle armor and another with bone-like batons—Goku raised a hand.
"That concludes the Physical Conjuration phase," he said, letting the crowd settle. "Weapon conjuration reflects your body's resonance with your Element. For those of you who watched—consider what kind of bond you hold with your Element."
Kiyoshi leaned into the mic. "Next up… THE FINAL PHASE!"
A ripple of excitement—and nervousness—passed through the crowd.
My hand tensed on the rail.
Jonetsu turned to me. "Looks like we're up next."
"Yeah…" I whispered, heart pounding.
But I couldn't stop thinking about the others.
About the claws, the ring-blades, the shifting gauntlets and daggers.
I was going to have to give it everything I had.
"Oh no…"
"I've got a bad feeling…"
"This is it…"
"One-on-one battles," Goku-Sensei confirmed. "We'll take a short break to pair you all up."
During the break, we debriefed—analyzing the abilities we'd seen, the matchups that might happen.
I kept thinking about my odds.
I didn't have full control of my Wind Element. All I had right now was one technique:
Wind Shot — a flick of the finger, like a gun. I could direct small bursts of focused air. That was it.
We sat on the stone bleachers near the edge of the stadium, where the crowd noise dulled into a distant hum.
"Be honest," I muttered, eyes fixed on the open arena. "If we're thrown into one-on-one fights right now… how screwed am I?"
"Hmm… scale of one to dead?" Jonetsu asked flatly, arms crossed.
"Helpful," I deadpanned.
"I think you'd do fine," Misaki said, stretching her arms above her head. "You've got good instincts. And you're creative with what you have."
"I have Wind Shot," I reminded her. "It's basically Air Flick. I could knock over a candle. Maybe."
"You've also got speed," Jonetsu pointed out. "Don't downplay that. You're faster than most people here—even without fully using your Element."
"I guess…"
"But if you end up against someone like Ogasawara…"
"…I'll need a hospital bed before the fight ends," I finished.
Misaki tapped her chin. "Honestly, he's a monster—but it's not just raw power that makes him dangerous. He's calm. Calculated. That combo's brutal."
"His dragon hasn't even shown what it can really do yet," I muttered.
"I'd really prefer not to find out firsthand," Misaki said, shivering a little.
I chuckled. "Noted."
"What about Renji?" I asked, lowering my voice.
Jonetsu frowned. "He hasn't fought yet, but he's sharp. Ridiculously observant. His movements are subtle—controlled."
"His eyes," Misaki added. "They don't miss anything. It's like he's already planning ten moves ahead."
"Plus, if the rumors are true and he's from the Takaomi line…" Jonetsu trailed off.
"We're not beating him in a straight-up fight," I concluded.
"Not unless you awaken something major," Jonetsu agreed. "Which… might kill you, so maybe don't try that yet."
Misaki sighed. "And let's not forget Yumiko. Poison Element or not, she's terrifying. Her Veil Weapon was designed to maim, not just win."
"Did you see how she coated it in gas mid-swing?" I said. "One misstep and you're inhaling paralysis."
"I'd be immune," I added, trying to sound cool.
Misaki raised a brow. "Still unfair."
Jonetsu snorted. "Just don't try to eat her cooking."
We all laughed—quietly, but it helped.
For a moment, the pressure lifted. Just a bit.
"Who else should we watch out for?" I asked.
Jonetsu shrugged. "Honestly? Everyone. Even the quiet ones. Especially the quiet ones."
Misaki nodded. "They've all got something to prove. No one makes it to E.A.C. by accident."
"Great," I said, flopping back onto the bench with a groan. "So… we're surrounded by overpowered psychos with unique Elements and trauma-induced awakenings. Perfect."
"Yup," Jonetsu said. "And now we have to fight them."
Misaki leaned in with a grin. "Better keep that trigger finger ready, Zakou-kun."
I smiled faintly.
Wind Shot.
It wasn't much.
But it was mine.
Which meant…
I'd be relying almost entirely on my assassin training to survive the next round.
Ten minutes later…
"OKAY EVERYONE, THE FINAL PHASE BEGINS NOW!" Kiyoshi bellowed.
"YEEAAAH!"
"LET'S DO THIS!"
"FIRST MATCH: UMEMOTO YUMIKO VS. TODOMARU MISAKI!"
Misaki stood up. "Well, I guess I'm first!"
"Eh. Not really my style," Jonetsu said.
"Yeah… same," I admitted. "But good luck."
"Thanks, guys!"
The two girls faced off in the center of the stage.
The stadium lights dimmed as Goku-Sensei raised his hand.
"Begin."
Misaki dashed forward the moment Goku-sensei gave the signal.
Her footwork was light, reactive. Every motion had an intention. Her eyes locked on Yumiko—analyzing, reading, adapting.
Yumiko stood calmly with her dagger poised. A slim, green-stained blade held in reverse grip—ready to sting, not slash. Her style wasn't brute force. It was timing. Precision.
Misaki feinted left—then struck high with her elbow.
Yumiko caught her forearm.
Misaki's eyes widened.
"Wh—what…?"
Yumiko's tone was eerily calm. "Poison transfer. Non-lethal. But annoying."
She let go, and Misaki staggered backward.
Almost immediately, Misaki's vision blurred. Her stance loosened. She blinked fast—then harder. The stadium lights swam.
"Ugh…" she groaned.
The crowd murmured. I tensed.
"MISAKI!"
She turned toward my voice—wobbling.
Her knees bent low as if to brace against a fall.
Yumiko tilted her head. "You should yield. That poison will disable your sight in seconds."
She was right. Everything dulled to a haze of color and motion. Misaki's legs wavered. Her staff hadn't even been summoned yet.
But she didn't give up.
She inhaled. Long. Deep.
And lowered herself to the ground.
Then her fingers brushed the arena floor.
…thrum.
Her breath caught.
There was something there—a pulse. Not from within. From beneath.
She closed her eyes fully. Not because she had to—but because she realized she didn't need them anymore.
She felt something. Vibrations. Pressure. The softest shift of weight as Yumiko circled her.
"What… is this?" Misaki thought. Her heart raced. But her fingers remained steady on the ground.
Every step Yumiko took created a whisper through the earth. Every twitch, every turn, left an echo.
She could hear the ground.
Somewhere deep down… it was as if something inside her was answering.
Not her Metal Element.
Something older. Heavier.
Earth.
But she didn't dwell on it.
She moved.
With a flick of her hand, silver swirled to life.
Metsuho.
Her Veil Weapon spiraled into shape—a long staff with segmented ends and morphing joints. Its hum was low, steady, almost like it felt the same pulse she did.
Yumiko lunged.
Misaki sidestepped—not by sight, but by feel.
The ground had shifted near her right ankle. Just a fraction. But enough.
CLANG!
Her staff blocked the dagger. Blindly.
Then whipped in a tight arc and smacked Yumiko's shoulder.
"Still got fight in you?" Yumiko spat.
"I've got more than that," Misaki said, eyes still closed.
Yumiko dashed left—Misaki countered before the dagger came close.
A flip, a spin, a redirect.
Misaki had stopped reacting. She was predicting.
Her feet stayed grounded. Her senses sharpened.
And her element—perhaps not even one she fully understood—was guiding her.
Yumiko tossed her bracelet to the ground, realizing the metal might be helping Misaki trace her.
"Fine. Let's see what you can do without any noise cues."
She bolted in silence.
But silence didn't fool the earth.
Misaki waited.
A weight hit the ground—barefoot. No metal. No sound.
But the earth whispered back.
There.
She dropped low, planted her palm to the ground, and let the hum guide her.
Yumiko came in at full speed.
Misaki twisted her wrist. Metsuho's edge morphed into a broad hook.
She caught Yumiko's wrist—blind.
"You lost the moment I touched the floor."
BOOM.
A surge of silver cracked outward as her staff hardened into its hammer form—Metal Fist—and slammed into Yumiko's midsection.
Yumiko flew back, hit the arena wall—and didn't get up.
The crowd was stunned.
Then—
"HOLY—!"
"DID SHE DO THAT BLINDED?!"
"SHE DIDN'T EVEN HAVE HER EYES OPEN!"
Kiyoshi practically screamed, "THE WINNER OF THIS BATTLE—TODOMARU MISAKI!"
Misaki smiled—wobbly, breathless—and then collapsed.
Her knees buckled.
Her staff dissolved in a flicker of silver light.
Before her body hit the ground—
fwshh—
"Form of the Silent Step…"
I launched from the stands, my heartbeat echoing in my ears.
"Soru."
In the blink of an eye, I was gone.
And reappeared right beneath her.
I caught Misaki just as her body gave out—her breathing shallow, her forehead damp with sweat.
Jonetsu's eyes widened from where he stood on the edge of the platform.
"…He teleported?" he muttered, stunned.
The crowd gasped.
"Did you see that?!"
"He just appeared out of nowhere!"
"How fast is he?!"
I didn't stop to answer.
"Easy," I whispered to Misaki, adjusting her in my arms. "I've got you."
Her fingers twitched weakly, clutching the front of my jacket. She didn't speak, but her body leaned into mine like it knew she was safe now.
I looked to the proctors. "She needs medical attention."
One of the instructors snapped into motion. "Infirmary's ready—go."
Without another word, I vanished again, Soru flashing once more as I moved.
And this time, I carried her—gently, steadily—toward the medic bay.
She fought so hard.
The least I could do… was make sure she could rest.
As I turned to leave, her fingers weakly grabbed my sleeve.
"…I felt the ground," she whispered to herself. "Like it… spoke."
I stared, breathless.
"She's not just Metal…" I muttered.
"You did amazing," I said gently. "I don't know what you've been through… but you can rest now."
"Th-thank you…" she whispered.
I smiled. "Anytime."
Kiyoshi's voice returned.
"WHATEVER THAT WAS, I HOPE WE SEE IT AGAIN—BECAUSE UP NEXT…"
His voice boomed like thunder.
"SOSHIKABE ZAKOU VS. OGASAWARA TATSUYA!"