The dawn light had barely finished painting the sky when we found ourselves assembled on the main training field. The air was crisp, charged with a nervous energy that had everyone standing a little straighter. At the center of the field, a raised podium had been set. Headmaster Thorne sat there, his expression unreadable, flanked by several other academy executives whose faces I didn't recognize.
Instructor Garrick strode to the podium, his voice booming across the field without effort. A tiny, obsidian-black crystal was pinned to his collar, and I realized it was acting as an amplifier—this world's version of a microphone, likely crafted from the core of some sound-affinity beast.
"Listen up!" Garrick's voice cut through the morning chatter. "The rankings from the last assessment are void. The incident in Heartwood has made that clear. Today, we establish a new order. A team battle. You will fight until one team remains standing. The overall victors will be crowned first in the new records and will represent the academy's peak combat prowess."
A competitive murmur rippled through the crowd. My eyes scanned the other students. Darain's squad stood together, but with a new face—a tall, sharp-eyed boy wearing a pendant that swirled with a faint, internal white glow. Tobin's empty space had been filled. Darian himself was uncharacteristically quiet, his usual arrogance replaced by a focused intensity.
My gaze then found Cain. He sat alone on a low wall, sharpening the edge of his brutal Chakram with a stone. His new teammates—a girl with twin shortswords and a burly boy with a tower shield—stood several paces away, casting uncertain glances his way. They had clearly already encountered his new, volatile demeanor.
"The first match!" Garrick announced. "Team Aris, versus Team Borin!"
A group of five led by a boy with a confident grip on a long spear moved to one side of the designated combat circle. His team was a classic composition: the spearman, two swordsmen, an archer, and a boy clutching a simple leather pouch.
Their opponents were heavier hitters: two axe-wielders, a girl with twin daggers, and two more with broadswords.
An academy enchanter stepped forward, raising her hands. In a shimmer of light, all their real weapons were replaced by practice versions—wooden training weapons that had been conjured from thin air, their surfaces humming with a faint blue stabilization enchantment to prevent lethal damage.
"Incapacitate your opponents!" Garrick's amplified voice commanded. "Abilities are permitted. Begin!"
The spearman, Aris, didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, and lightning—actual, crackling white lightning—wreathed his wooden spear. He became a blur, driving the point straight for the chest of Borin's lead axe-wielder.
But the axeman was surprisingly nimble. He twisted his body, the lightning-charged spear tip grazing his shoulder with a sizzle. Before Aris could recover, the axeman countered. He swung his practice mace in a devastating overhead arc, and a furious red aura of raw force mana ignited around it.
The speed was terrifying. Aris had no time to dodge. The mana-infused mace slammed into his chest with a sickening THWUMP. The stabilization enchantment flared blue, absorbing the worst of the impact, but the force was still enough to lift Aris off his feet and send him crashing backward into his own archer, both of them tumbling to the ground in a heap.
A triumphant grin spread across the axeman's face. It vanished a second later.
A small, innocuous pebble struck the ground at his feet.
KABOOM!
The explosion wasn't fiery, but concussive—a blast of pure, compressed air mana that hit like a warhammer. The axeman was thrown sideways through the air, his cry of surprise cut short as he landed hard and skidded across the dirt, stunned.
Everyone turned. The boy from Team Aris, the one with the pouch, held another smooth stone between his fingers. His face was a mask of intense concentration. He didn't throw it at a person; he threw it at the ground between the two remaining swordsmen from Team Borin.
BOOM!
The second detonation was perfectly placed. The concussive blast created a shockwave that knocked both opponents off their feet, their weapons clattering from their hands. The twin-dagger girl tried to flank him, moving like a shadow, but the boy with the pouch was already pivoting. He didn't need to aim well; he just had to get close.
He threw a stone at the ground near her.
The blast wasn't direct, but it was enough. The force of the explosion buffeted her, destroying her balance and sending her stumbling into the path of Aris's recovering swordsmen, who quickly disarmed her.
In less than a minute, the dynamic of the fight had been completely reversed by one supporting member with a bag of exploding rocks. Team Borin was down, groaning on the ground. Team Aris, though bruised, was standing.
Garrick's voice boomed out. "Match! Team Aris advances."
A tense silence fell over the field, followed by a wave of excited chatter. The drill had begun, and the stakes were now terrifyingly real. I glanced at Kael, who gave a slight, appreciative nod towards the boy with the pouch. I looked at Cain, who was staring at the field with a frightening intensity, his fingers tracing the edge of his Chakram. The first match was over, and it had shown us one thing clearly: anything could happen here.