Training Hall B's door slid open with a soft hydraulic hiss.
No shouting.
No sparring clang.
Just quiet.
Too quiet.
Jihan nudged it wider with his shoulder, a plastic bag rustling in one hand, three cheap milk teas swinging from the other. The cups knocked together softly, ice clinking.
Inside—
Mira paced in tight circles near the center line, boots tapping sharp rhythms into the polished floor. Her hair kept slipping from its tie; she yanked it back without noticing.
Jisoo had claimed the entire far wall.
Sticky notes covered it in crooked rows—arrows drawn in red pen, names circled, question marks stabbed through paper. Bits of tape hung from her sleeve as she scribbled something frantic and underlined it three times.
Minjae lay flat on his back in the middle of the mat, one arm over his eyes, the other dangling off the edge like gravity had finally won.
For three seconds, nobody noticed the door.
Jihan set the drinks down carefully on a bench.
The plastic bag crinkled as he dropped it beside them.
"…I leave for one hour," he said, kicking the door shut behind him, "and you redecorate like a conspiracy forum."
Jisoo spun so fast a note peeled off the wall and fluttered down.
"YOU'RE LATE."
Mira stopped pacing and pointed at him like she was about to assign detention. "You didn't reply. Do you know how long we waited?"
Minjae didn't move. "Did you bring snacks."
Jihan lifted the bag.
Minjae sat up instantly.
"Good man."
He crawled over and grabbed it before anyone else could move. Chips crinkled open. He froze mid-bite.
"…You only bought one spicy flavor?"
Jihan picked up a milk tea and tossed it gently toward Mira. She caught it without looking, still glaring.
"You're alive," she muttered.
He tossed the second to Jisoo. It bounced off her shoulder; she fumbled it, then hugged it like a rescue kit.
The third he kept, poking the straw through the lid with a soft pop.
He took a sip.
Sweet. Cheap. Cold.
Mira paced once more, slower now. "Forty-eight hours," she said, tapping the board with her knuckle. "Team-vs-Team. They'll pair us against someone strong."
Jisoo shoved a note into place. It read Rank-2 Academy?? with five question marks.
Minjae chewed loudly, crumbs falling onto the mat. "Then we punch them harder."
Jihan leaned against the wall, watching them—Mira's tight steps, Jisoo's shaking hands, Minjae pretending to joke with food in his mouth.
He lifted his cup again.
"…Next time," he said, "I'm buying four milk teas."
Three heads turned toward him at once.
Five minutes later, the four of them sat cross-legged in a loose circle on the cold tiles.
The snack bag lay torn open between them, chips spilling like fallen leaves. Three milk teas sweated quietly, droplets running down plastic cups and pooling into tiny circles on the floor.
The wall behind them looked like a crime board.
Sticky notes everywhere.
Arrows. Circles. Names scratched out and rewritten. Question marks stabbed through yellow paper.
Jihan picked one off the edge of the mat and held it up.
Possible Lava Terrain Strategy
He turned it over. Nothing on the back.
Another note caught his eye.
He read it aloud slowly. "If Wind Element Appears — Panic?"
He looked up.
Jisoo froze mid-sip, straw still between her lips.
"…Step two is panic," Jihan said.
She yanked the straw out. "Because step one is don't die. Panic comes naturally after."
Mira leaned over and plucked another note from the wall. She squinted.
"This one says Pray to RNG gods."
Jisoo crossed her arms. "Backup plan."
Minjae didn't look up from the snack bag. Crunch. Crunch.
"Valid strategy," he mumbled through chips. "Sometimes crits save lives."
Jihan watched crumbs fall onto Minjae's lap.
Watched Mira's knee bounce nonstop.
Watched Jisoo twisting her bracelet again, the cracked charm clicking softly every few seconds.
He set the sticky note back on the floor.
"…I'm surrounded by professionals."
Jisoo threw a chip at him.
It bounced off his shoulder.
Mira tried not to smile.
Minjae kept eating like the world was ending in thirty minutes and snacks were limited.
For a moment, the hall was just quiet chewing, rustling paper, and the faint hum of the lights above.
Then Jisoo leaned forward, voice smaller.
"…We almost lost Doyoon."
No one answered.
Jihan reached out and nudged a milk tea toward her.
She took it without looking up.
And they went back to planning.
They cleared the snacks aside and dragged the mats back into position.
Mira stood in the center circle, palms raised, jaw tight with concentration. A thin ribbon of water pulled itself out of the training room hydrant and curled upward, gathering into a perfect sphere above her hands.
It hovered.
Clear.
Smooth.
Reflections of the ceiling lights bending across its surface like glass.
Jisoo clapped once, softly. "Okay… that's beautiful."
Minjae leaned back on his hands. "If it explodes, I'm blaming you."
The sphere trembled.
Mira's fingers twitched.
The surface rippled.
Then—
WHUMP.
Water detonated outward.
A cold wave slapped across the floor, racing in every direction. Mats floated. Sticky notes peeled off the wall like surrender flags.
Minjae shrieked. "MY SHOES—"
He scrambled onto the bench, hugging his sneakers to his chest as water chased his ankles.
Jihan just lifted his feet calmly as the tide rushed under him, socks staying dry by a centimeter.
"…Indoor pool unlocked."
Jisoo tried to stand—
Her foot slid.
She windmilled wildly, grabbed the nearest thing—
Jihan's sleeve.
She clung to him like the floor was lava and the water was an ocean.
"DON'T LET ME DROWN—"
"You're in two centimeters," Jihan said.
Mira stood frozen in the middle, water dripping off her hair and sleeves. "I'M SORRY— I didn't— the pressure slipped—"
Minjae pointed at his soaked sneakers like a crime scene. "THEY'RE LIMITED EDITION—"
Jihan glanced down at them.
"They're from a roadside stall."
Minjae gasped like someone had stabbed his heart.
"BETRAYAL."
Jisoo finally got her footing and let go of Jihan, face red, shoes squelching loudly.
Mira crouched, trying to push water toward the drain with her hands, making it worse.
The hall lights reflected off the shallow flood, turning the whole floor into a rippling mirror.
Minjae sighed dramatically and set his shoes down on the bench to dry.
"…Next practice," he said, "we fight in desert terrain."
Jihan nudged a floating sticky note with his foot.
It read: Pray to RNG gods.
He looked at Mira.
"…Add bring towels to step one."
For a second, no one spoke.
Then Jisoo laughed.
Mira covered her face.
Minjae groaned.
And Training Hall B slowly became a swimming pool.
Twenty minutes later, the floor only squeaked in a few places.
Towels lay abandoned in damp piles. A lonely sticky note clung upside-down to the wall, dripping slowly.
Jisoo stood in the center of the mat, hands clasped together, face set like a doctor about to perform surgery.
"Okay," she said. "Stand still."
Minjae puffed his chest out and planted his feet. "Witness perfection."
A thin ribbon of green light spilled from Jisoo's palms and wrapped around him.
Soft.
Warm.
Like sunlight through leaves.
Minjae blinked. "Hey… that actually feels nice."
The glow brightened.
Jisoo frowned. "Wait."
Brighter.
Minjae's hair started shining.
Brighter.
The hall lights dimmed in comparison.
Jihan raised an arm to shield his eyes. "…You're over-healing."
"I can't stop it!" Jisoo squeaked, shaking her hands like the light might fall off.
Minjae stared at his glowing fingers. "I CAN SEE MY ANCESTORS—"
Mira lunged and grabbed Jisoo's wrists.
The light snapped off.
Minjae collapsed backward onto the mat with a dramatic wheeze.
"…I went to heaven," he whispered. "No snacks there."
Jihan nodded gravely. "Good reason to stay alive."
Mira threw a towel at both of them.
—
The door creaked open.
Crutches clicked softly against tile.
Everyone turned.
Doyoon stood in the doorway, pale, one arm in a sling, leaning awkwardly on metal crutches.
He lifted one hand weakly. "…Missed me?"
Mira reached him first and hugged him carefully, like he might shatter.
Jisoo burst into tears immediately and wiped her face with her sleeve, laughing and crying at the same time.
Minjae crossed his arms and looked him up and down. "You look terrible."
Doyoon grinned. "Doctor said I'm alive out of spite."
Jihan held out the snack bag.
"…Eat. Step one of recovery."
Doyoon took a chip like it was a medal and saluted with it before crunching loudly.
—
They regrouped near the board.
Jihan dragged a marker across it, drawing lines and arrows. The squeak echoed in the quiet hall.
"Survival test means waves," he said. "Terrain shifts. We rotate every three minutes. Nobody fights alone."
Minjae nodded seriously for once, crumbs still on his chin.
Mira leaned forward, arms folded, listening.
Jisoo scribbled furiously, sticky notes multiplying again.
Doyoon raised a hand slightly. "What if the terrain collapses under us?"
Jihan capped the marker. "We adapt."
Minjae added, "We scream."
Jisoo wrote both without hesitation.
Mira reached over and tried to peel the scream note off. "Erase scream."
Doyoon whispered from behind her, "Keep scream."
Minjae nodded solemnly. "Scream is morale strategy."
Jihan looked at the wall full of messy plans, crooked arrows, and snack crumbs stuck to tape.
"…We're going to win," he said quietly.
Jisoo blinked. Mira stopped tugging notes. Minjae froze mid-chip.
Doyoon smiled.
Outside, the academy lights flickered on one by one as evening settled.
Inside Training Hall B, Team Seven kept planning.
They ran drills until the floor squeaked again.
Cones set in crooked lines.
Mats half-dried.
Sticky notes curling off the wall.
Minjae tried a flame burst and crisped the edge of the snack bag by accident. Smoke curled up lazily.
"My snacks—" he slapped at the flame, stomping the floor while crumbs scattered everywhere.
Mira launched a pressure stream at a target dummy. It veered sideways and smacked into the corner hydrant.
Water blasted out.
Again.
Jisoo panicked and tried to heal a cracked training dummy. Green light wrapped around it… brighter… brighter…
POP.
The dummy split at the waist and fell over like a surprised mannequin.
Doyoon, hobbling between cones on his crutches, clipped one with the rubber tip and went down in slow motion.
"…I'm okay," he said from the floor, staring at the ceiling.
Jihan stood in the middle of the mess, hands in his pockets, watching them scramble.
Water dripping.
Smoke fading.
Jisoo apologizing to the broken dummy like it had feelings.
Minjae blowing on his burnt snack bag.
Doyoon crawling toward a fallen chip.
"…Good," Jihan said.
They all turned.
"Good?" Mira echoed, hair dripping down her face.
"You didn't freeze," Jihan said. "You kept moving."
Minjae blinked. "…While ruining everything?"
Jihan shrugged. "New mistakes."
Jisoo sank onto a mat. "We're doomed."
—
The door creaked open.
No one looked.
A girl leaned against the frame, sipping milk tea slowly.
Short hair brushing her jaw. Grey hoodie sleeves hiding her hands. Calm eyes moving from flooded corner… to smoking snack bag… to broken dummy… to Jihan standing in the middle like he'd aged ten years in ten minutes.
She smiled.
"…So this is Rank-1 team."
Jihan turned.
Recognition flashed.
"Milk tea stalker."
She raised her cup in greeting. "Nice to see you too."
Minjae squinted. "Who are you?"
She stepped inside. Shoes barely made a sound.
"Seo Arin," she said. "Rank-2. NOVA Academy."
The hall went quiet.
Jisoo squeaked.
Mira straightened automatically.
Minjae's eyes sharpened.
Doyoon stopped mid-crunch, chip halfway to his mouth.
Arin pointed at the flooded corner. "…Strategy is drowning enemies with embarrassment?"
Jihan nodded. "Working so far."
She laughed. Not polite. Real.
Then she looked at him again.
"Brackets are out."
He tilted his head. "Already?"
She took a slow sip.
"First match."
The straw clicked softly against ice.
She smiled wider.
"NOVA Academy Team A… versus Team Seven."
Mira's notebook slipped from her hands and hit the floor.
Jisoo whispered, "We're dead."
Minjae cracked his knuckles slowly, jaw tight.
Doyoon grinned like this was the best news he'd heard all week.
Jihan looked at Arin.
"…Bring snacks."
She blinked.
Then laughed again.
Outside Training Hall B, footsteps slowed.
Students gathered in twos and threes near the glass wall.
Phones lit up one after another, screens glowing with the bracket list.
"…Rank-1 Team Seven…"
"…NOVA Rank-2…"
"…First match…"
More faces pressed closer.
Whispers stacked on whispers.
Inside, Team Seven stood among cones, puddles, and broken dummies.
Training Hall B suddenly felt too small.
To Be Continued.