In the north sector dormitory, a familiar voice broke through the silence.
Reito (cheerfully): “Good morning, my favorite students! Rise and shine, because today’s the big day!”
Jonathan (groaning): “Ugh… sir, what even is it with you? It’s way too early for this much energy.”
Reito: “Early? Jonathan, it’s already 7:12. You need to be at the central sector by 8 sharp!”
Emma (sitting bolt upright): “WHAT?! We’re gonna be late! Hiruzen, Jonathan—up! Now!”
Hiruzen (half-asleep): “Alright, alright… I’m up.”
Jonathan: “Gimme… a second. Just… five more—”
Emma: “No seconds! Move!”
Within minutes, the trio were scrambling to get ready—uniforms thrown on, badges pinned,and teeth brushed. They bolted out of the dorm and made their way through the academy’s marble walkways, their footsteps echoing in rhythm with their racing hearts.
When they finally arrived, the sight before them took their breath away.
The Central Arena—a massive, circular coliseum adorned with banners and shimmering crystal panels—gleamed like a fortress of sapphire under the morning sun. Its sheer scale dwarfed anything they’d seen before. Thousands of students filled the stands, the noise like a living current of excitement.
Hiruzen (awe-struck): “Wow… there are so many people. And this place—it’s massive.”
Jonathan (smirking): “Yep. The pride of the academy. They used to hold placement trials here, but I guess this year they wanted something flashier for the Midterms.”
Emma (waving): “Hey—Aaron! Over here!”
The crowd parted slightly as a tall student in a blue cloak embroidered with silver threads walked toward them. His steps were confident, his posture composed. Beside him was a girl dressed in regal black and crimson, her aura sharp and commanding.
Aaron (smiling): “Emma. It’s been a while.”
He turned slightly. “You remember my cousin, Caitlyn, right?”
Emma (grinning): “Of course! It’s good to see you again, Cait.”
Caitlyn (nodding politely): “Likewise. You seem to be doing well.”
Hiruzen: “Uh… Emma? Who are they exactly?”
Emma: “Aaron’s my old rival—he was my opponent during placement trials. And Caitlyn went to the same prep school as me.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Jonathan (muttering): “And they’re from one of those big-name families that help fund the academy. Just like Logan’s.”
Hiruzen (smiling): “Ah, got it. Well, nice to meet you. I’m—”
Aaron (cutting him off): “Hiruzen Yuki, right?”
Hiruzen (raising a brow): “Yeah… how’d you—”
Caitlyn (coolly): “You’ve made quite the reputation for yourself. It’s rare for a freshman’s name to spread across the academy like wildfire.”
Aaron: “Everyone’s seen the footage from the South Sector. You really fought Adam, didn’t you?”
Hiruzen: “Yeah, I did. Though ‘fight’ doesn’t really cover it. How’d you even get that footage?”
Aaron (grinning): “Logan’s spy drones. He leaked the entire thing online a day later. It went viral.”
Jonathan (frowning): “Wait—‘the entire thing’ meaning…?”
Caitlyn (smirking): “Yes. Including your poor performance against the bomber.”
Hiruzen (defensive): “Hey! He only lost because he was protecting us.”
Caitlyn: “Excuses don’t change facts. In a true one-on-one? He’d have lost either way.”
Aaron (interjecting): “Now, Caitlyn, don’t be cruel. But… I’ll admit, I’m curious to see how much you’ve improved, Hiruzen. You’ve got a lot of eyes on you now—including mine.”
Hiruzen (grinning confidently): “Then you better be ready. I’ve finished some intense training since then. I’m not the same guy you saw in that video.”
Aaron’s smile sharpened. “Good. I’d hate for it to be boring.”
Before their banter could continue, the lights around the arena dimmed. The ground at the center split open with a deep mechanical hum, and a massive platform began to rise. Standing atop it was a tall, broad-shouldered man in a tailored black coat—the unmistakable figure of Dean Frederick Wolfgang.
His presence alone silenced the entire stadium.
Dean Frederick (voice booming):
“Good morning, students. As many of you know, I am Dean Frederick Wolfgang—your overseer for this year’s Midterm Examinations.”
He paused, surveying the crowd.
“There are eighty participants this year. Each of you will be tested through a series of one-on-one combat trials. These trials are not merely about strength—they are about discipline, intelligence, and character.”
A hush fell over the stadium. Even the wind seemed to stop.
Dean Frederick (continuing):
“You will be evaluated on four criteria:
- Combat Proficiency: Show your skill in executing techniques, adapting mid-fight, and maintaining composure.
- Resilience and Endurance: Demonstrate your ability to withstand and recover from damage while maintaining your performance.
- Strategic Thinking: Utilize feints, counters, terrain, and timing to outmaneuver your opponent.
- Character and Intent: Reveal the essence of your spirit—your sense of honor, restraint, and purpose, even in the face of defeat.”
He let the words hang in the air, heavy and deliberate.
Dean Frederick:
“Victory is not the sole measure of success. Passing three out of four categories will suffice—but winning guarantees advancement.”
He raised his hand, his gaze cutting across the sea of students like a blade.
Dean Frederick: “Is that understood?”
Students (in unison): “Yes, Dean!”
A small, knowing smile crept across his face.
“Then let the Midterms… begin.”
The entire stadium erupted into cheers, chants, and clashing excitement.
Hiruzen felt his heart pounding—not from fear, but from something deeper. Resolve. Determination. He could feel the frost of his power stir faintly under his skin.
Hiruzen (quietly, to himself): “This time… I’ll show them who I really am.”
End Chapter