The academy felt different that morning.
Not quieter.
Not empty.
Just… restrained.
Everyone knew.
Tomorrow wasn't just another set of matches—it was the cut. The selection. The moment where only four would remain from the current group.
And Jelo—
Was one of them.
He stood at the edge of the training grounds, watching.
Students still trained. Some sparred. Others practiced alone. But there was a noticeable difference in how they moved—less recklessness, more intention. No one wanted to risk unnecessary injury now.
It was a day off.
Officially.
But no one treated it like rest.
Not really.
Jelo flexed his fingers slowly.
The faint warmth of his draconic essence responded instantly, settling into his palm like it had been waiting for the call. Controlled. Steady.
Better than yesterday.
Much better.
Behind him, Atlas stretched lazily, arms over his head.
"So this is your idea of a 'day off,' huh?" he said. "Standing around looking serious?"
Jelo didn't turn.
