Morning sunlight spilled across Ren's desk, gilding the notes he hadn't been reading. Sleep had been patchy; every time he drifted off, the memory of the greenhouse clawed back the demon's growl, the way his blood had thrummed, the phantom weight of a crown.
Outside, students moved between classes in neat lines. Inside, Kasumi sat two rows away, shoulders stiff. When Ren caught her eye she quickly looked down at her book. Not angry… but wary.
A rap on the classroom door saved him from further awkwardness. A courier in academy livery stepped inside.
"Tachibana Ren," she announced. "You are summoned to the Hall of Ordeals at third bell."
A collective murmur swept the room. Someone snickered. Another whispered, What did he do now?
Ren's stomach tightened.
The Hall of Ordeals sat behind the main spire, carved into black stone. When Ren arrived, the stands were already half-filled with students. Some craned for a better view; others held betting slips. The academy loved a spectacle.
On the arena floor waited Seraphine, Auri, and the Headmaster — an imposing man draped in robes the color of midnight wine.
Ren descended the stairs, boots echoing. Auri gave a quick two-finger salute, but even she looked unusually serious.
The Headmaster's voice carried easily. "Tachibana Ren, recent events suggest a… volatility in your conduct. Today you will demonstrate control, composure, and sufficient skill to remain enrolled."
Ren inclined his head. "Understood."
Seraphine stepped forward, offering a blunted training sword. "You'll face three segments," she said quietly. "Do what you must, but keep your power leashed. The faculty are watching."
Her gaze lingered, meaning clear.
A circular platform shimmered into being, etched with sigils. At a signal, illusions solidified into twisting corridors. Pale spirits drifted within, whispering.
"Guide yourself through," the Headmaster intoned. "Dispel what you can, evade the rest."
Ren entered cautiously. The air was cool, heavy with incense. Wisps darted around him, testing. He steadied his breath, keeping the ember inside dormant. A few firm strikes of the practice blade dispersed them.
He reached the exit in good time. Applause rippled from the stands.
Two upper-classmen waited, grinning. Their uniforms bore gold trim elite rank.
"Don't hold back on our account, first-year," one said.
Ren set his stance. The match began.
They were quick faster than anything he'd faced in drills. He parried, feet sliding on stone, muscles straining. Sparks of heat tempted him: one flare and they'd drop. But Seraphine's warning echoed.
He relied on technique instead: deflect, pivot, counter. When an opening appeared he swept the legs of one opponent, tapped the other's chest with the sword tip.
"Point to Tachibana," the arbiter called.
Cheers and surprised whistles rose. Ren tried not to grin.
For the finale, a transparent sphere hovered above a rune circle. Inside churned raw crimson mana, volatile and hungry.
"You will steady the flow without bursting the sphere," the Headmaster said. "Patience over strength."
Ren knelt by the runes, extending cautious fingers toward the energy. It bucked like a living thing. Sweat formed at his temple. He drew a slow breath, coaxing stability.
For a moment, it worked until a hiss tore across the chamber.
Lines of the containment seal flickered, warped. Someone in the stands gasped.
The sphere cracked.
From the fracture spilled a small but vicious demon, all claws and molten eyes. Students shrieked. The instructors snapped defensive wards into place, but the creature darted past, angling toward the bleachers.
Ren's heartbeat roared. He could stay back, let teachers handle it. But Kasumi sat near that aisle, frozen.
Something inside him uncoiled.
Heat surged up his spine, rich and commanding. The training sword burned in his grip, metal glowing faint red. He stepped between the beast and the stands.
"Down," he said — not loud, but layered with power.
The demon faltered mid-pounce, body twisting as if forced. A faint coronet of fire shimmered above Ren's brow. He thrust the sword, striking just hard enough to knock it senseless.
Gasps rolled through the hall. The creature collapsed, smoke curling from its flanks.
Ren exhaled, forcing the authority back into the dark corner of himself. The crown winked out.
Auri was first to reach him, eyes wide. "Show-off," she muttered, though her grip on his arm was steadying. "You okay?"
He nodded, pulse still wild.
The Headmaster's gaze swept from Ren to the scorched floor, then to the teachers scrambling to reseal the sphere. "The warding fault will be investigated," he said gravely. "As for Mr. Tachibana… restraint noted, though your reserves remain concerning."
Murmurs spread among the spectators: Was that magic? Did he command it?
Kasumi's expression was unreadable somewhere between awe and worry.
"Until further evaluation," the Headmaster continued, "you will train under limited supervision. Report to Seraphine and Auri after classes."
Ren bowed stiffly. "Yes, sir."
When the stands emptied, Ren lingered by the exit tunnel. A faint warmth lingered in his chest not just from power, but from the way the crowd had looked at him: not pitying, not mocking. Curious.
At the far end of the arena, a hooded figure leaned against a pillar, clapping slowly. Their smile was thin and knowing, eyes glinting like coals.
Ren tensed, but when he blinked, the figure was gone leaving only the echo of applause and a whisper curling through his thoughts:
Rise, little king.