The Dominion Trials raged on, and the skies above the Tidal Abyss shivered with pressure. Lightning crawled across the clouds like veins of divine fury. Each strike cast eerie reflections over the waterlogged field below.
It was here that one of the fiercest clashes unfolded.
Dawn, Gary, and Ingrid stood at the edge of the zone—where land met tide, and serenity gave way to chaos.
Their opposition had already claimed a foothold: a team led by Rael Windthorn, bearer of the Mark of Tempest. The very air bent around him, distorting light and sound. His long coat danced wildly in the gale, though his expression remained cold and calculating.
"You came to drown," Rael said. His team took position beside him—Mistwalk, Ripple Echo, Aeroform, and Stormstep. All trained to dance through water, mislead opponents, and chain strikes with near-perfect synergy.
Gary stepped forward, his Gauntlet of Resolve glowing as he braced against the surging wind. "You talk a lot. Let's see if you can hold your ground."
The challenge ignited the zone.
---
Above the Battlefield – Celestial Observation Vessel
Hovering high above in the floating petal-shaped vessel, guests and dignitaries observed the trials with careful interest. The structure hummed with quiet power, a testament to the refinement of Celestial engineering.
Princess Luna stood at the crystalline edge, hands folded before her. Her silver hair drifted in the artificial breeze, but her gaze was storm-still, locked on one figure.
Dawn.
Unlike the other contenders, he wasn't moving much. He didn't shout, didn't posture. He simply… watched.
"How strange," she whispered. "He isn't fighting. And yet... the battlefield is bending around him."
One of the Versant Academy masters at her side gave a thin smile. "That is Prime Instinct at work. He doesn't wield power. He convinces reality it should wield it for him."
---
Tidal Abyss – The Clash
The opposing team struck first.
Mistwalk dove into the floodwaters, vanishing in a shimmer. Aeroform blurred and looped in the air, a wind blade forming at each step. Stormstep struck with chain-lightning lashes, coordinated with Ripple Echo's tidal blasts.
Gary absorbed the first strike with his greaves locking into the ground, creating an unshakable anchor. He retaliated with a forceful punch that dispersed the lightning, a ripple of light spreading through his gauntlet.
Ingrid shifted her position with frightening precision. The Mark of Binding laced the air with silver threads, and her Transmutation Mark reshaped fragments of the broken tide into shields, spears, and decoys.
And Dawn?
He moved once.
That one step was enough to warp the entire clash.
In his mindscape, he simulated every motion—the path of lightning, the rotation of Aeroform's spirals, the delay between each tidal surge. His Vast Sky Mark flared with subdued brilliance, threads of possibility outlining every action.
He raised his hand. A light-formed gauntlet condensed over his palm—not the Gauntlet of Resolve, but a projection born from his path: one of manifestation, one that drew upon the memory of power rather than the essence of it.
He met Aeroform's attack directly.
The gauntlet cracked under pressure but did not break. In that instant, Dawn disproved Aeroform's form—his wings faltered, and the energy dispersed.
Rael's eyes widened.
"You forged that mid-battle," he said, voice low.
"No," Dawn replied. "I've been forging it since I first saw it."
Rael roared, summoning a hurricane vortex—his mark blazing. But before he could release it—
Ingrid cast the Seal of Separation, splitting the vortex from its wielder.
Gary followed up with a hammering blow, stunning Rael and flinging him into the shallows.
Victory was declared seconds later.
---
Elsewhere – Cedric's Trial
Meanwhile, in the Obsidian Range, Cedric stood on a cracked stone ridge, backlit by molten veins pulsing through the rocks.
His challenge was different—brutal and solitary.
Against him stood three students wielding marks of the earth, designed to entrap, erode, and pressure. But Cedric was training for the Wordbreaker Fist—a technique not just of force, but declaration. Every strike had to mean something. Every move, an intent that shattered laws.
"Your mountain's too small," he growled, slamming his fist into a summoned cliff. It shattered like glass.
As the dust settled, Cedric felt it—that pulse of something stirring deeper in him. Not just strength. Defiance.
But even as he triumphed in his zone, he couldn't help but glance up toward the floating vessels in the sky, where the storm had briefly parted—and a faint light traced Dawn's silhouette.
"…Hmph. I'm not losing to a walking sky," he muttered.
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End of Chapter 97