They didn't go back inside.
Atlas had mentioned food.
Mira had nodded along.
But neither of them moved toward the corridor.
And Jelo hadn't either.
They stood at the edge of the training grounds, the three of them, watching the field as it thinned out — students drifting toward meals, toward rest, toward wherever people went when the day stopped demanding something from them.
"You want to go again," Mira said.
Not a question.
Jelo nodded once.
Atlas stretched his arms behind his head.
"Thought so."
⸻
They spread their attention across the field slowly.
No urgency.
Just looking.
Jelo's enhanced vision was already active — the world sharpened at the edges, details pulling into focus the way they always did when he stopped passively seeing and started actually reading. Essence signatures. Weight distribution. The subtle way power settled differently in different bodies.
He wasn't searching for the strongest person left on the field.
He was searching for the right one.
