Everhart's gaze lingered on the display, then he allowed a faint sigh to escape. "There are others we must consider," he murmured. "Top-performing squads are not always the most predictable. Some… excel under pressure in ways that exceed raw power."
Fayne raised a brow. "You mean Veylan's team?"
Everhart's eyes darkened, the runes reflecting the sharp edges of his concern. "Yes. Veylan, Ryn, and Sylis—each of them has demonstrated skill, discipline, and coordination far beyond their peers. But more importantly, they understand hierarchy, strategy, and subtlety in combat. Their influence on the academy's competitive structure cannot be ignored."
Chawng nodded slowly. "Ryn and Sylis are more than side figures—they complement Veylan's style and enforce his standards. They push him as much as he pushes them, which makes them… formidable."
Fayne's expression softened, tinged with a hint of admiration. "They're already shaping the dynamic within the Adept Tier. Other teams—especially those without James—could easily stumble against them if they underestimate their cohesion and ruthlessness."
Everhart's fingers tapped against the crystal surface, tracing the rune patterns that represented each squad's performance. "We must prepare the less experienced teams to encounter such rival squads, not just for the sake of their rankings, but for the survival of the academy itself. They will face challenges that cannot be solved by strength alone."
Chawng exhaled, a rare note of gravity in his voice. "Kara's team has potential, yes. But without guidance, without the right exposure to teams like Veylan's, they may never reach it. Lessons in precision, timing, and leadership are critical, or else they'll fall short when the true threat arrives."
Everhart's gaze swept the room one last time. "Ryn and Sylis are not here merely to showcase skill—they are living examples of what discipline and strategy yield. Keep them in mind as we continue evaluations. Their presence will shape the next stage of development for every student in this academy."
Fayne leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing in thought. "So, the hierarchy is set, for now. But the game is far from over."
Chawng's jaw tightened. "And when James returns… everything will shift. Rivalries, leadership, alliances. We need all teams prepared beforet that storm hits."
The room's heavy atmosphere lingered as Chawng's words faded into silence.
Outside the observation chamber, the sound of steady, deliberate footsteps reverberated down the corridor. A trio approached, their presence commanding attention long before they came into view.
Ryn's crimson hair was damp with sweat, strands clinging to her face as she twirled a slender dagger between her fingers. The faint scuffs on her boots and the measured rhythm of her breathing hinted at the intensity of the session she and her squad had just finished. Sylis walked beside her, posture straight and rigid, his broad frame casting long shadows in the dim torchlight. Trailing slightly behind was Veylan, silent and composed, his very presence sharpening the air around him.
"Another clean run," Ryn said with a sly grin, flicking her dagger into the air before catching it by the hilt. "Not even a scratch this time. At this rate, the upper-tier trials are going to start feeling… boring."
Sylis gave her a side glance, unimpressed. "That wasn't a clean run. You got overconfident on the third wave—you dropped your guard for half a second."
"Half a second's still a win," Ryn replied, smirk deepening. "Besides, no one down here is fast enough to punish me for it. Not yet."
As they rounded a corner near the observation chamber, muffled voices drifted through the reinforced door, carried faintly by the hall's natural acoustics. They couldn't make out the full conversation—just fragments.
"…shift everything… prepare the squads… before the storm hits."
The words echoed briefly before fading into silence. Ryn slowed, tilting her head with open curiosity, though her stance was far from sneaky—if anything, boldly confident.
"Storms, huh?" she said, her grin sharpening. "Sounds like the old masters are finally admitting something interesting's on the horizon."
Sylis didn't even break stride. "Doesn't matter what they're planning. Our focus stays the same."
Veylan's voice cut through the moment, calm and precise. "Exactly. Whatever storm they're preparing for is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is who controls the battlefield when it arrives." His golden eyes glimmered coldly in the dim light. "We won't just weather it. We'll direct it."
Ryn laughed lightly, spinning her dagger one last time before sliding it into its sheath. "Control, huh? Works for me. Besides, watching everyone scramble when they realize how far behind they really are? That's half the fun."
Sylis's tone stayed level, though there was an undercurrent of anticipation. "The Adept squads are growing stronger, but they're predictable. Potential isn't readiness. When they face us, they'll learn the difference."
Veylan paused at the base of the stairs leading to the upper-tier training arena, his gaze sweeping over his squad. "Which is why we will continue sharpening ourselves. Precision, discipline, timing—these are the weapons that decide who rises and who breaks. I expect nothing less than perfection."
Sylis nodded sharply. "Understood."
Ryn gave a dramatic bow, though her glinting eyes betrayed her excitement. "Perfection it is. Just don't complain when I make it look effortless."
A faint smirk tugged at Veylan's lips, almost imperceptible. "Effortless or not, results are what matter. Come. The real battles are only beginning."
Ryn twirled a dagger between her fingers as they walked, the blade flashing in the dim light of the upper halls. "You mean the upcoming trials, don't you? The instructors are already whispering about a new rotation of Aether Tier simulations." Her tone was half-excitement, half-mockery. "Most Adepts wouldn't survive five minutes in those arenas."
Sylis gave her a flat look, his deep voice steady as ever. "That's because they aren't meant to. Those simulations are designed to break you before they build you up. Precision, coordination, unshakable focus—without those, you're dead weight."
Ryn grinned wickedly. "And we thrive under pressure. That's why we're the ones chosen to participate while the others… fumble around in their little dungeon evaluations."
Veylan didn't respond immediately, his steps silent and deliberate as they ascended the narrow spiral staircase leading to the upper training arena, a place few students ever even saw. The air here felt different—charged, almost humming with restrained power. Faint sigils glowed along the walls, their magic pulsing like a heartbeat.
At the threshold, Veylan finally spoke, his tone clipped and cold.
"The trials up here aren't about raw power. They're about dominance. Every simulation pits you against scenarios that force you to think three steps ahead—or lose everything. That is why we are above them."
He glanced briefly over his shoulder, his piercing gaze locking on Ryn and Sylis.
"Others chase strength blindly. We refine it. That is what sets us apart."
Sylis inclined his head with a single, disciplined nod. "And why we'll stay on top."
Ryn gave a theatrical sigh, tossing her dagger into the air and catching it effortlessly. "Fine, fine. I'll play nice. For now." Her smirk returned, sharper this time. "But when the next trial starts, don't blame me if the others can't keep up."
Veylan allowed himself a fleeting, razor-thin smile. "They won't. And that's the point."