The girl near the benches leaned toward the stocky boy beside her.
"Did you see that? He didn't even break a sweat."
"Four and a half minutes," the boy muttered back. "Faelar's no joke with wind magic, but Luke just... shut him down."
"That Titan's Stride though." Another student, thin, nervous-looking, adjusted his glasses. "The distance he covered was insane. Is that a high-tier Body Path skill?"
"Has to be. Iron Talon House doesn't mess around with training."
The girl bit her lip. "Great. So we're all gonna get destroyed."
"Speak for yourself," the stocky boy said, but his voice lacked conviction.
Alaric watched from his corner. Silent. His eyes tracked Luke's movements even now, the way he held his katana, the efficiency of his stance. No wasted energy. Every motion purposeful.
Top ten for a reason.
Luke's gaze swept over them. "Next."
The stocky boy stood. Rolled his shoulders. "Guess I'm up."
