The announcement spread through Nevermore like wildfire.
A combat assessment.
Every student was required to participate. Pairings would be chosen by faculty, watched closely by the entire academy. Ostensibly, it was about safety and skill evaluation. But Dirk knew better.
This was a test.
Not of him alone—but of how much of himself he was willing to reveal.
---
The Arena
The courtyard had been reshaped into a dueling ground. Circles of glowing wards marked the boundaries. Professors stood at the edges, clipboards in hand, while students clustered in excited, anxious groups.
Whispers chased Dirk like shadows:
"That's him."
"The giant."
"The one who crushed alchemy class."
Wednesday observed with hawk-like focus, her pen already poised. Enid waved when she caught his eye, her smile warm enough to soften the tension knotting in his chest. And up on the balcony, Principal Weems stood statuesque, her eyes unreadable.
---
The Match
"Dirk Sanchez," one of the instructors called.
His name boomed across the courtyard.
His opponent stepped forward: Ajax Petropolus. A gorgon, tall and wiry, with confidence radiating from every step.
Ajax grinned. "Guess we'll see if the new guy's all hype."
Dirk didn't answer. He only rolled his shoulders, the sheer mass of him eclipsing Ajax without effort. At six foot nine, with a body cut like a weapon, he looked more monster than man.
---
The First Exchange
"Begin!"
Ajax struck first, fast and reckless. He darted in with stone-fist strikes, aiming for speed over power. Dirk didn't move.
The first blow landed against his chest.
It echoed like stone hitting steel.
Ajax winced, shaking his hand. "The hell…?"
Dirk's eyes narrowed. Control it. Don't shatter him.
When Ajax came again, Dirk shifted just slightly, catching the punch mid-air. His grip closed around Ajax's fist, not crushing, just holding. The crowd gasped as Ajax struggled, his entire body straining against a hand that felt like a vice.
Dirk spoke quietly enough that only Ajax could hear.
"Stop."
The word carried weight. Not a threat, not anger—just undeniable command.
---
The Turn
But Ajax was proud, and pride made fools of men. He twisted, trying to headbutt. Dirk sighed, stepped in, and with a flick of his wrist sent Ajax sprawling into the dirt. Not broken, not bloodied—just defeated.
The courtyard went silent.
Dirk hadn't unleashed an ounce of true strength, yet everyone watching knew it: he could have ended the match before it began.
---
The Aftermath
"Winner," the instructor declared reluctantly, eyes lingering on Dirk as if trying to solve a puzzle.
Applause was hesitant, nervous. Students whispered louder now, awe tinged with fear.
Wednesday's pen tore across her page, her eyes bright with hunger.
Enid's face glowed with pride, clapping furiously.
Weems, from above, leaned forward ever so slightly, studying the calm, immovable boy below.
Dirk stood motionless in the center of the circle, heart steady, mind cold.
This is only the beginning.