Later that week, Qingsai was summoned to the center of the Pearl-Glass Amphitheater, where the disciples of Iskyn tested their strength in friendly duels.
His opponent: Nahrion Veltrai, a Tidecaller born of coral-blood, who wielded dual whips of water and boasted noble Iskynian heritage.
Nahrion sneered at the foreigner Soulkindled.
> "The tides do not bow to suns or fire," he said in the Iskyn tongue. "Let us see if yours drowns or rises."
Yuwen translated at Qingsai's side. "He's not a fan."
> Qingsai nodded. "Let the water decide."
The match began.
Nahrion struck like a barracuda—sharp, elegant, relentless. His whips lashed with precision, carving arcs of high-pressure jets.
Qingsai stumbled at first, defending with circular pulses of water. But then… he listened.
He stopped resisting. He moved like the Mirror Current had taught him. He danced with the water—not against it.
Then, the pulse came.
Qingsai unleashed Tidepulse—a rapid rhythmic surge of water from his palms that amplified his momentum. With each move, he slipped around Nahrion's attacks, flowing like mist and crashing like surf.
Finally, Qingsai unleashed a burst of spiraling water that hurled Nahrion into the soft sea-moss wall of the arena.
Silence. Then, applause.
Selari stood from her coral seat.
> "You are no longer a student. You are Tidewoken."