As Lucavion got out, whispers started.
Not loud. Not yet. Just quiet threads between students glancing his way.
"Was he in the same exam…?"
"That cut looks real."
"I thought those zones didn't leave marks—"
"How hard did he go?"
Lucavion ignored them.
He stood still, letting the exam field's residual mana drain off his skin, letting his breathing settle. His estoc was already sheathed, its faint glimmer barely visible.
Saphielle walked past him first, adjusting her cuffs, her expression the picture of composure. No dirt, no blood, not even a bruise.
Then Dain—grinning faintly, tossing a light joke over his shoulder to another student as if nothing at all had gone sideways.
Kaireth followed last, eyes forward, jaw tight. He didn't look at Lucavion as he passed, but there was a flicker of something in his expression. Not quite guilt. Not quite respect.
Recognition, maybe.
