The data from the gear had been recorded, and now, the moment everyone was waiting for arrived.
Scarlet walked to the front gathering with clipboard in hand. Her eyes scanned the contestants – breath, sweat dripping from their brows, others standing frozen in tense anticipation.
With only two tests remaining, these numbers could make or break their chances of joining the Guild.
A hushed tension blanketed the area."Alright," Scarlet said, projecting her voice just enough.
"Here are the results from the weighted stamina test."
Everyone leaned in.
"Rael Stren – 16.2 out of 20."
A wave of murmurs rippled across the crowd.
"He's consistent…"
"Didn't expect that from him…"
Someone from the back even muttered, "He might be in the top 10 at this rate."
Rael exhaled in relief, giving a small nod to himself, but stayed composed.
"Lykon Vren – 14.6"
Soft chuckles and whispers sparked here and there. "At least it's higher than last time," someone snickered.
"Tch…" Vren clenched his fists. His jaw tightened. I need to do better… I've come too far to go home now.
"Jonas Tryek – 18.2"
That one drew a round of surprised murmurs.
"Whoa…"
"He's flying under the radar."
"That guy's gonna be a problem in the sparring round, watch."
Jonas just looked down, lips pressed into a firm line. He wasn't satisfied – he was hungry.
One after another, more names and numbers were called. The air grew heavier as the final score approached. Everyone knew whose score hadn't been announced yet.
A long silence followed. Scarlet's grip subtly tightened on the clipboard. She didn't realize her own breath had hitched until she exhaled through her nose.
"20 out of 20."
A gasp. Then a surge of noise burst from the crowd like a dam breaking.
"No way…"
"Again?!"
"This guy hasn't missed once!"
"Who is he…?"
"He's a monster… a white haired monster," someone whispered with a mix of awe and fear.
Boros' eye twitched. His brow furrowed. "Tch… stop calling me that shit, you damn bastards," he muttered under his breath. His voice was low but laced with venom.
Scarlet raised her hand to settle the noise before reading the final name.
"John Hale – 19 out of 20."
The crowd exploded. "WHAT?!"
"He got carried half the track!" "Are they seriously counting that?!"
Scarlet didn't flinch. "He crossed the finish line within the time limit. The gear recorded his exertion. That's the score. No amount of yelling will change it."
John looked completely stunned. "I… I got a 19?" His wide eyes slowly turned to the person who had pulled him through it. "It's because of the man who helped me… I'm really grateful to him."
He smiled sincerely in Boros' direction. Boros, who already looking away, paused as he felt the weight of that gaze. He turned slightly, eyes narrowing when he caught the boy's expression.
"The hell…?" he mouthed.
"Stop. Smiling. At. Me."
John just kept smiling."Tch annoying brat," Boros muttered, dragging a hand through his hair like he wanted to rip the smile out of the air.
Scarlet clapped once, calling the attention back to her. "With that, this test is concluded."
The boys looked at each other – some excited, others clearly feeling the pressure now that only two challenges remained.
Scarlet's eyes swept over the group. Her voice sharpened with command. "It's time to move on to the next, all male applicants – follow me." She turned with authority, her coat swaying slightly as she led the boys away from the field, toward the sparring ring tucked behind the north courtyard.
They were heading for the next test.
Meanwhile, attention quietly shifted back to the central stage. The separate instructor stepped forward, eyes landing on the group of female applicants who had finished their run earlier.
It was their turn now.
The moment Scarlet walked off the boys, a heavy silence fell over the remaining group.
The girls stood in the clearing of the eastern training yard – a wide, circular arena surrounded by smooth stone tiles and faint glyph etchings buried in the dirt. The sun sat high, casting sharp light over the ring.
A quiet tension built in the air. Then came the slow, deliberate sound of boots on stone.
Rovan Drayke emerged from the shaded corridor beside the platform.
His coat fluttered lightly in the wind, black with deep crimson trims. And red shoulder guards gleaming under the sun – the unmistakable mark of a Guild Captain. The moment the girls spotted them, postures straightened, expressions sobered.
His sharp gaze swept across the group, and even without a word, his presence screamed one thing:
Authority.
When he spoke, his voice was low and commanding – the kind that made even the proudest heads lower. "You've been running, jumping and enduring. But now it's time to do something most of you avoid until it's too late – weaponize it."
Some of the girls blinked in confusion. Others straightened their backs, recognizing the weight in his words.
"This is a sparring evaluation. Each of you will face of in a one-on-one duel. You'll be graded on control, tactical sense, aggression, defense and ability to adapt. Not just who wins. I'm here to watch brawls – I'm here to watch potential soldiers."
A breeze swept across the yard.
"And if you go too easy… you fail."
A murmur passed through the group. He didn't raise his voice. "The ring is reinforced. You'll be allowed to use Nexus if you're attuned – if not, fists and steel will suffice. Weapons have been provided if you didn't bring yours. No killing. No maiming. But pain? Pain is expected."
He snapped his fingers, and two assistants stepped forward to hand out wooden identification tags. "When I call your names, step into the ring."
The girls were quiet, holding their breath. Rovan read from the slate in his hand.
"Lira Quilen. Rayka Thorne. You're up first."
The two stepped forward. Lira was calm and precise, her movements smooth and composed as she entered the ring.
Her jet-black braid swung behind her, and her light-bladed Nexa dagger was already humming faintly in her hand.
Rayka, on the other hand, cracked her neck loudly. Her expression was sharp was defiant, her short red hair slicked back and her twin knuckles-blades locked on her fists. The air around her pulsed with raw energy.
They stared each other down from across the ring.
Rovan raised a hand. "Begin."
Rayka charged first, fast and headstrong. She went low, fists swinging in wide arcs. The speed was impressive – even aggressive – but Lira didn't move. She simply sidestepped at the last moment, letting Rayka's strike fly pass her.
A flick of her wrist – the dagger sliced upward, grazing Rayka's shoulder. Rayka gritted her teeth and twisted, managing to catch Lira's leg with a spinning kick. Lira stumbled back. "Got you now!"
Rayka yelled, swinging both fists forward with a flurry of jabs. But Lira ducked under the last punch, sweeping Rayka's legs with precision. Rayka fell hard – dust kicking up – but she immediately rolled back and jumped to her feet, spitting out a laugh.
"So you're not just some elegant doll, huh?"
"I don't talk in fights," Lira replied flatly.
This time, Lira went on the offensive. Her form became sharper, more clinical. The dagger moved like an extension of her arm – short strikes meant to tag, disable, test.
Rayka fought back with sheer force, absorbing glancing blows in order to deliver heavier ones – she managed to land a nasty uppercut that sent Lira sliding across the dirt.
Both girls stood, blood on their lips, breathing hard.
Rovan's eyes narrowed, watching each movement. He said nothing, letting the clash unfold.
After another minute, Lira fainted a slash to Rayka's shoulder and went for her side instead, dropping her opponent with a clean pressure-point jab to the ribs.
Rayka fell to one knee, gasping.
Rovan raised his hand. "Match concluded."
Lira stepped back and offered no bow. She simply walked to the side, her blade flickering off. Rayka coughed and laughed again."She's good. Real good," she muttered, rubbing her ribs.
Rovan nodded faintly. "One shows control. The shows resilience. Both valuable. But only one wins."
The rest of the girls were silent, glancing at each other nervously. And then he looked back down at the slate.
Rovan's voice cut through the air once more. "Next match – Emery Suto… verus Kessia Vale."
Kessia stepped forward – tall, lean and stone-faced. Her braid was tight, her stance tighter. Dull silver rings lined both ears, and an obsidian blade with a curved edge sat slung behind her lower back.
Every step she took was measured like she was walking through fire – never too fast, never too slow.
By contrast Emery Suto approached the ring with loose confidence. Short black hair tucked under her scarf, her twin batons clicked together as she spun them once, flickered her shoulders and smirked.
"Well damn," Emery muttered, "this one's already breathing like she wants to kill me."
"No talking," Kessia replied coldly, already drawing her blade.Rovan crossed his arms.
"Begin."
The match didn't start with footwork it exploded with metal. Kessia moved like a blade herself, sliding low with a sweeping arc of her curved weapon, forcing Emery to leap back instantly. But Emery grinned, spun in the air and landed with her batons crossed in front.
Clack-clack.
Two strikes in a heartbeat. Kessia ducked one and parried the next with the flat of her sword. She didn't retreat – instead, she advanced, pressing Emery hard with relentless pressure. Slashes came low, then reversed mid-swing to strike high.
Emery barely kept up, twirling to the side to avoid a finishing blow. "Fast…" Emery breathed. "Guess I'll stop playing."
She dashed in low, her batons sparking with faint energy. Each strike now had more bite, more intention. She used her smaller frame to slip past Kessia's guard, landing two sharp jabs to her side.
Kessia hissed and retaliated with a palm strike – not a blade, a strike – catching Emery off-guard and throwing her several feet back. The crowd gasped.
Emery flipped, skidded and landed on her knees, coughing once.
"Oof. Alright. Round two." She zipped forward, ducked under a swing, planted one baton in the ground and used it to vault over Kessia's blade arc. In mid-air, she twisted, struck Kessia's back with both batons and kicked off her spine to land safely behind her.
The blow made Kessia stumble – but she never fell.
Instead, she turned… and smirked.
For the first time."Not bad," she said.
Both girls now stood on opposite ends of the ring, breathing hard, sweat dripping. Rovan raised a hand.
"Enough. That's sufficient." Gasps erupted.
Some booed, wanting a winner. Others murmured about how fast, how clean, how lethal it had all looked.
"Both of you," Rovan said. "Above average control. Sharp instincts. Solid kills if this were real."
Emery twirled a baton and gave a short bow, tongue out. Kessia just nodded and walked off the platform.
As Kessia disappeared into the crowd and Emery flickered her scarf back into place, a wave of whispers rippled across the candidates. Some were still stunned, others thrilled – but all were caught off guard by how intense the clash had been.
Rovan didn't even give them long to breathe. His voice boomed again. "Next match…" He slowly turned, gaze cutting through the group like a blade.
"Kaien Mure…"
A few girls stiffened. The name was known – not for loudness, but for silence.
Kaien was already stepping forward. Her long black hair tied back in a sharp braid, shoulders squared, hands calm. She said nothing. Didn't need to. Her presence spoke volumes.
Then Rovan turned to the cluster of late arrivals. He raised one hand. Pointed straight at her.
"You. Step Up."
Akeno blinked, confused."M-Me…?"
"Don't make me repeat myself."
A hush fell over the crowd.
Kinuko leaned forward, concern flickering in her eyes.
Akeno hesitated for only a second more… then stepped into the ring, her expression unreadable.
Kaien didn't even look at her – just adjusted her stance.
And the tension twisted like a drawn bow.
Something dangerous was about to unfold.