Tarse lay flat on his back.
Still breathing.
Barely.
His coat was scorched at the edge, a bruise darkening his side where Emilia had landed that kick. His left arm trembled a little — maybe from exhaustion, maybe from Emilia's slash.
Vee plopped down next to him, chewing loudly on something.
"Where the fuck did you get food?"
"Some passed out guy. Found it in his bag. Don't judge me."
Tarse stared at him.
"... It hurts no one , it is what the victor does when they win."
The arena had fully collapsed now. What was once a floating platform of combat now looked like a stripped-down warehouse. The other surviving examinees — about eighty, less than before — were scattered across the hall. Some were limping. A few had minor burns or cuts. Others… still smug.
Emilia was leaning against a wall, cleaning her swords. She hadn't looked back once.
Tarse hated that he noticed.
He stood slowly, trying not to let the soreness show. His hand flared with warmth for a moment — but he pushed it down.
No fire. Not now.
Umari appeared again, descending from nowhere, clapping.
"Congratulations," he said, voice calm. "If you're standing here, it means you're not entirely useless."
Some people chuckled. Most just stayed quiet.
"You'll be assigned dorms shortly. In the meantime—" he raised a finger, "—there will be one final test."
Groans rippled through the group.
Tarse narrowed his eyes. "Final test? Why couldn't have just a normal test like other universities."
"I thought we were done," Vee muttered.
"You thought wrong," Umari replied, somehow hearing him from across the room.
Vee jumped. "...Sorry, sir."
Umari smiled faintly. "Tomorrow morning. 7 AM sharp. Don't be late and Tarse."he said in a condescending tone." This is no university nor a normal place to learning, it's Isytopia Grand Academy."
With that, he vanished into a flash of light.
Everyone slowly began to shuffle out.
The dorm hallway was quieter than expected.
Marble floors. Glass walls. The sky was black now — a storm rolling in, or maybe just the Academy messing with the weather.
Tarse and Vee walked down the corridor, a pamphlet glowing in Tarse's hand with their room number.
"Room 3F, West Wing," Vee read over his shoulder. "Ooh, I hope they have snacks."
"You literally stole from someone earlier."
"Yeah, but you're the only one compianing."
Their room was surprisingly decent. Two beds, split by a floating shelf. A window overlooking the back courtyard. Even a small kitchen.
Tarse dropped his bag on the bed and didn't even bother unpacking.
Vee was already opening every cabinet like a raccoon.
"Dude, this place has cinnamon sticks. We're living like royalty."
Tarse sat at the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. His body was tired, but his mind was worse.
He couldn't stop thinking about the arena.
The swords.
The way she fought.
The look in her eyes when she said *"you held your own."*
"Yo," Vee said suddenly. " Aren't you at all wondering if this place is too good to be true?"
Tarse looked over. "What?"
"I mean… they built a floating arena and made us fight like gladiators. First day. Then we're handed keys to a dorm and told to sleep peacefully?"
Tarse leaned back.
"Yeah. It's suspicious."
"You still gonna stay?"
He didn't answer right away.
Vee looked at him carefully.
"You are, huh?"
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
" Just let me sleep."
Vee got closer with a surprised look on his face." Your wounds heal quite quick. It's only been thirty minutes since the arena yet somehow... somehow you're already looking as soulless as ever."
Vee moved over to his bed," But damn, she did a number on ya, and that fight was entirely one-sided even though you used your fire."
"She was stronger than I expected." **"Way stronger"**
Silence.
Rain started tapping lightly against the glass.
Vee leaned on the windowsill, chewing another cinnamon stick.
"I think they're watching us."
"They definitely are."
"Creepy. Thie place is just to weird, it makes jail look normal"
Tarse nodded.
"I kinda like it."
That night, sleep didn't come easy.
Tarse stared at the ceiling, listening to the wind.
Evryli didn't speak. She hadn't since the arena.
But he felt her. Quiet in his blood. Waiting.
*Waiting for what?*
He didn't know.
Outside, the wind howled. Or maybe… something else did.
He closed his eyes.
And in the silence, he heard it—
A single, echoing voice in his head.
**"You survived. But will you stay?"**
He didn't answer.
Because deep down, he didn't know either. He fell asleep.