The sun above the Primordial Academy felt different today—less like a source of warmth, more like a witness waiting for the storm to begin.
The celestial vessels still lingered above the skies, their radiant hulls casting halos across the clouds. They had not yet left, and neither had the guests within. From noble houses to distant academies, each delegation bore pride and expectations, silently judging the students who would soon fight beneath their watchful eyes.
The Academy's central plaza had transformed. A massive stage of levitating rings, interlaced with shimmering glyphs, now floated above the training grounds. Instructors moved about swiftly, finalizing the calibrations. A large translucent orb hovered high above—the Eye of Accord, which would project all battles, reactions, and territories claimed.
A soft hum of excitement stirred the air.
The students had begun to gather, clad in their personalized training attires, sigils of their chosen path sewn into sleeves or etched onto vambraces. Conversations rippled like waves—gossips, predictions, and nervous laughter danced between the forming teams.
But there was a subtle divide.
Everyone noticed the team of three standing at the northern edge of the ground. No fourth joined them. Dawn, Gary, and Ingrid—a triad that drew every eye, both for their reputation and for the sheer contrast of their presence.
Dawn stood still, arms behind his back, looking neither proud nor indifferent. His gaze was fixed ahead, but it was clear his mind wandered. Not in distraction—but in calculation.
Ingrid muttered to herself, practicing incantations under her breath. Rings of alchemical light briefly shimmered before vanishing again. Her eyes burned with anticipation.
Gary cracked his knuckles, then flexed his gauntlets—solid, defined, and humming with dormant power.
They were a team of three… but it didn't make them weak. It made them terrifying.
Across the ground, Cedric Vaughn stood at the head of another team. His expression was stone. He wasn't jealous, nor bitter—he simply knew where he stood. His fist clenched as he mentally prepared to unleash his Wordbreaker Fist, though he knew Dawn would be watching.
Soon, the Grand Instructor floated down with a flick of his robes, his presence silencing the murmurs. The rings above flared in sync.
"Today," he began, "you will not duel in the arena. You will not fight for personal glory. You will secure floating grounds—Celestial Points, scattered across an artificial dimension prepared by the Academy. This is not a test of might alone… but of leadership, tactics, and resolve."
He raised his hand and gestured to the sky. The floating orb above—the Eye of Accord—burst with light, revealing a vast illusion of the trial realm. Fractured lands floated in midair, shifting and rotating in kaleidoscopic patterns. Some were overrun by storms, others drowned in radiant fog.
"You will descend shortly," the Grand Instructor continued, "and you will begin with nothing but your Marks and your minds. Control is not permanent. You must adapt."
Then, a murmur rolled through the students.
For striding down from one of the celestial vessels, adorned in silver and indigo, her hair flowing like a comet's trail, was Princess Luna. Her team followed in silence, equally noble, equally prepared.
But Luna's gaze was not searching the ground. It was locked onto one person.
Dawn.
She said nothing. But the air itself seemed to freeze for a heartbeat as their eyes met across the field.
And then it moved on.
One of the instructors approached each group, handing over Celestial Keys—tokens used to claim and lock a point temporarily.
As Dawn's team accepted theirs, Ingrid finally broke the silence.
"Three people... won't we be at a disadvantage?"
Gary smirked. "Only if numbers meant everything."
Dawn tilted his head slightly, watching the map above rotate.
"No. This... suits us just fine."
And so the countdown began.
In ten minutes, the trial dimension would open.
In ten minutes, reputations would rise… or fall.
And somewhere, buried beneath all that excitement, the students failed to notice a thin black line creeping across the Eye of Accord. Just a hairline fracture. Almost invisible. Almost forgotten.
But not for long.
---