In the center of The Great Crucible, the squad attempted to execute a phalanx defense maneuver against a pack of practice clay golems. Normally, Korbin and Eliana formed the frontal wall, Zephyr struck from above, and Phantsin covered the rear while catching his breath.
But today, the formation kept breaking.
Every time a golem closed in, the wolf-girl broke ranks. She would slide beneath the hulking mud arms and "assassinate" the construct, driving her wooden daggers into its rear joints.
It was fast, certainly, but it left a gaping hole in the defensive line. Other golems poured through the breach, forcing Eliana to overexert her blue energy shields to compensate.
"Hold your position, Rikka!" Eliana shouted, blocking a clay punch with a flash of Precision magic. "You're exposing Korbin's flank!"
Rikka ignored the order. She vaulted onto the shoulders of another golem, decapitating it with a swift scissor motion. She landed softly on her silent leather boots and shot Eliana a defiant, golden glare.
"The prey is dead. Flank secure."
"That is not the tactic!" Eliana snapped, dropping her wooden sword and dispelling her shield.
She turned toward Commander Brynja, who was watching from the podium.
"Commander, I request permission to halt the exercise. The Umbra cadet is incapable of following a military structure."
Brynja arched a grizzled eyebrow. With a wave of her hand, the remaining golems deactivated, crumbling into mounds of inert dirt.
"Leadership problems, Dawnshield?" Brynja asked, her voice raspy.
"You cannot lead chaos, Commander," Eliana said, striding into the center of the arena, her blue eyes locked on Rikka. "This cadet fights like she's in a street brawl. She breaks order. She breaks control. And on a real battlefield, her disobedience will get us all killed."
"Order is for slow dogs." Rikka growled. "I survive. And you just talk too much, Princess."
Phantsin, panting heavily near Korbin, stepped forward.
"Eliana, Rikka... that's enough. We can try it again."
"No, Phantsin," Eliana cut him off, her voice cold and resolute. "Squad Seven cannot function like this. A shield with cracks is not a shield."
"Sanctioned duel. You and me," Eliana declared, leveling her wooden sword directly at Rikka's chest. "I want to see if your street instincts can best the Academy's doctrine."
Rikka's ears perked up fully. A feral smile, revealing slightly pronounced fangs, curled her lips.
"I accept. I'm going to rip off that blue sash and make you choke on it."
Brynja let out a booming laugh that echoed across the arena.
"That's the spirit! The rest of you, clear the center! Infantry duel!"
Phantsin backed away reluctantly, pulling Korbin and Zephyr with him.
He knew Rikka was lethal, but he also knew Eliana was the most technically skilled student in their year.
Both girls took their positions in the chalk circle.
Eliana adopted the high guard of the Dawnblades: flawless posture, vertical blade, controlled breathing. She looked like a statue carved from ice.
Rikka, in contrast, simply crouched, spreading her soft-soled boots and lowering her center of gravity. She held a wooden dagger in each hand with a reverse grip. She looked like a predator primed to pounce.
"Begin!" Brynja roared.
Rikka was a gray and purple blur.
She used her unnatural speed to zigzag, hunting for Eliana's blind spot. When she closed the distance to under a meter, she unleashed a flurry of slashes that seemed to come from all directions at once.
But Eliana did not retreat.
Her Aether magic flared—not in a massive shield, which would drain too much energy, but in micro-bursts of kinetic energy. Absolute precision. She channeled the magic to the tip of her wooden sword, deflecting every single one of Rikka's strikes.
The clatter of clashing wood was so rapid it sounded like the buzzing of a giant insect.
Rikka growled, frustrated at finding no flesh. Using Eliana's knee as a springboard, she executed a backward somersault mid-air, hurling one of her daggers straight at the noble's face as she descended.
Eliana parried the wooden projectile with a sharp flick of her wrist, but the distraction served its purpose. Rikka landed behind her and swept Eliana's supporting leg.
The princess stumbled, but before she could fall, she drove her sword into the dirt of the Crucible, using it as a pivot. She spun on the spot, delivering a magic-fueled roundhouse kick that caught Rikka squarely in the stomach.
Rikka was sent flying, tumbling through the dust, but she sprang to her feet instantly, coughing.
"You are predictable, animal," Eliana stated, recovering her stance with effortless grace.
"And you are made of glass," Rikka hissed, lunging forward again, this time staying low to the ground.
Rikka dragged her boot against the dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust straight into Eliana's eyes. Eliana blinked instinctively, raising her sword in a defensive arc.
Rikka slipped beneath the arc. With her remaining dagger, she aimed a lethal thrust at Eliana's abdomen.
But Eliana had anticipated this.
She had momentarily sacrificed her vision, predicting the Umbra cadet's low attack. Just before Rikka's dagger could connect, Eliana dropped her sword, seized Rikka's wrist with both hands, and channeled a pulse of pure Aether magic.
The repulsive force violently launched Rikka off the ground and slammed her into the dirt.
Before the wolf-girl could react, Eliana had snatched up her sword and pressed the wooden tip firmly against Rikka's throat.
Silence fell over The Great Crucible as the dust began to settle.
Eliana was breathing heavily, yet her expression remained frigid.
"Control always triumphs over instinct. You're dead."
Rikka, lying flat on her back, didn't look frightened. In fact, her bushy tail gave a rhythmic thump against the dirt. She smiled, baring her teeth.
"Look down, Princess."
Eliana frowned. She slowly lowered her gaze.
The dagger Rikka had supposedly "lost" during her aerial assault hadn't bounced far. Rikka had retrieved it while tumbling through the dust. Now, the point of that second wooden dagger was pressed with surgical precision against Eliana's left femoral artery, perfectly concealed by Rikka's thigh.
Had the blades been forged of real steel, Eliana would have slit Rikka's throat, but the wolf-girl would have severed her femoral artery in the exact same heartbeat. They both would have bled out in under a minute.
Eliana paled slightly.
"Both dead," Rikka whispered, her golden pupils glinting with malice. "Control wins you tournaments. But instinct makes sure nobody goes home."
"Match over!" Brynja bellowed. "Dawnshield wins through superior control, but the street rat earns a commendation for lethality. On your feet."
Eliana withdrew her blade.
Rikka concealed her dagger and bounded up with elastic grace.
The two girls stared at each other in silence. The initial contempt had faded, replaced by something far more uncomfortable: a grim, mutual assessment.
Half an hour later, inside the stone showers of the women's locker room, the sound of running water echoed through the vaulted chamber.
Eliana had already finished showering and was buttoning up her pristine white shirt. Her black jacket, adorned with fine trimmings and the sapphire-blue tie of Aether, hung from a hook.
Rikka stepped out of the showers, towel-drying her dark gray hair.
Unconcerned with modesty, she quickly pulled on her leather shorts and the Academy shirt, leaving the sleeves rolled up. She tied her sash and the purple Umbra tie without bothering to make a perfect knot.
They were alone.
"You fight dirty," Eliana remarked without looking at her, adjusting her shirt cuffs.
"Fighting clean is for those who want to lose," Rikka replied, sitting on a wooden bench to wrap her forearms in combat bandages. "I never had that luxury."
Eliana turned toward her, leaning against the stone lockers.
"You're good, I'll admit that. Dangerous. You could be training in The Veil to be an elite assassin. You have a talent for shadow magic. So explain something to me: Why do you act like a lapdog?"
Rikka's ears flattened against her skull. Her amber eyes locked onto the noble.
"Watch your words."
"I'm serious," Eliana pressed. "You have immense potential. Yet you follow Phantsin around like his pet. You reduce yourself to being his shadow. Why?"
Rikka pulled the knot of her bandage tight.
"You're a Princess; you know nothing of the real world. You grew up in palaces, listening to tales of heroes. I grew up in the Meat Market. Down there, the monsters aren't just the ones with horns; they wear silk suits and carry coats of arms. Nobles used to come to our slums and treat us like garbage. They'd burn us for fun."
Rikka pointed to a thick, jagged scar on her calf, still visible below her leather shorts.
"No one defended us. Not until he did."
Eliana remained silent, listening intently.
"Phantsin stepped in," Rikka continued, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "He was just a child, just like me, and yet, he faced the fire for me. He taught me that fangs are meant for biting, not just for smiling at a master. He made me free. To me, he is the Alpha."
Eliana stared at the stone floor. Her own noble arrogance had just collided with the brutal reality of the streets Rikka had survived.
"I don't doubt his courage," Eliana said softly, raising her eyes. "I stood beside him against a Troll. I know what he is capable of. But look at him now, Rikka."
Eliana walked over to the bench and sat down nearby—close, but not too close, respecting the wolf-girl's territorial boundaries.
"That Star Iron ring he wears... it's killing him slowly. His magic is being suffocated. He's exhausted, he's sluggish, and his human body is bearing a weight it was never designed to carry."
Rikka frowned, her ears drooping with undeniable concern. She had noticed it too. Her Alpha smelled of deep fatigue and rotting magic.
"If war breaks out—and it will," Eliana continued, her tone shifting to cold strategy, "he won't survive alone with just a dagger in the dark. You cannot protect him from everything. Phantsin needs a wall. He needs tactics, he needs healers, and he needs a squad that operates like clockwork, not like a disorganized pack of hounds."
Eliana extended a hand, her pristine white sleeve contrasting sharply with the worn leather of the Beastkin girl.
"You are the instinct. And that will keep us alive in an ambush. But I am the strategy. And strategy wins wars. I'm not asking you to like my nobility, street rat. I am only asking you not to tear down the shield I am trying to build around him."
Rikka stared at Eliana's outstretched hand for a long time. The wolf-girl's golden pupils dilated, meticulously assessing the princess's intentions. She smelled truth. She smelled a genuine, albeit repressed, affection for Phantsin.
Rikka did not shake the hand. That would be far too civilized. Instead, she gave a single, sharp nod.
"I won't break the line," Rikka agreed, her voice raspy. "As long as you don't forget that if anyone crosses that line... I will rip their throat out."
Eliana lowered her hand, a faint smile touching her lips.
"Deal, Shadow. Now, let's finish getting dressed. The Alpha is waiting for us, and if we leave him alone for too long, he'll probably try to punch a wall and break his hand again."
Rikka snorted, the sound resembling a short bark, as she grabbed her standard-issue Umbra jacket.
The Squad, in its own highly dysfunctional way, had just forged its first real chain.