The air inside the hall was sharp with tension.

  Roy stood in Group 3, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes half-lidded but alert. He didn't care much about impressing anyone. But getting crushed wasn't good either.

  'I should aim for the middle,' he thought. 'Not too strong, not too weak. Just... forgettable enough.'

  A group of teachers were inside the VIP room, watching the arena like hawks.

  One of them stood out.

  A tall man built like a warrior, with a back so broad it looked like it could break walls. His short, graying hair matched the deep lines on his forehead. He stood with his arms crossed, expression unreadable.

  He wasn't the type to clap or shout encouragement. He looked at the students as if each one was just another number on a list. Two other teachers sat behind him, talking, but he didn't say much.

  'Let's get this over with,' he thought, exhaling through his nose. 'I'll most likely be here for just a week, but there's no 100% guarantee she'll fail. So to make sure things work if she somehow does it, I'll make sure I get the best students for the class.'

  The first match of Group 1 was Omar's.

  He walked onto the platform with a lazy grin, like a man who already knew the outcome. His opponent, a broad-shouldered boy with a shield, looked serious. Maybe a little too serious.

  The referee raised a hand.

  "The fight will end when someone becomes unconscious, surrenders, gets out of the ring, or when I call it."

  His hand went down.

  "Begin!"

  The boy took a defensive stance with the shield in front of him, covering most of his body.

  Omar darted forward, light on his feet. He kicked the shield hard enough to throw it upward. The boy tried to bring the shield back down to hit Omar from above, but before he could, Omar's fist crashed into his gut like a cannonball. The boy stumbled back. Omar followed up, sliding his foot and moving the ground with it, pushing the boy out of the ring.

  "Winner: Omar!"

  The crowd erupted.

  Marie clapped loudly from the side.

  "Show-off," she muttered.

  Up in the VIP room, one of the teachers leaned forward.

  "That one's got power. What do you think, Darius?"

  Darius was still standing close to the window. He didn't even flinch or answer.

  'Raw strength. Good control for his age. But he telegraphs his strikes.'

  He wrote a small mark on a clipboard.

  "When did he get it?" one of the teachers asked, looking at the now empty table.

  After two more fights, Marie stepped up.

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  Her opponent was a quick-footed boy with twin daggers and wind swirling faintly around his legs. Marie tilted her head and focused her eyes.

  "Begin!"

  Frost spread across the floor beneath Marie's boots like living veins. The dagger boy rushed in, feet light and fast, but the moment he stepped on the frosted floor, his speed faltered.

  Marie used wind to throw herself up into the air, flicking her hand. Shards of ice shot forward, one after another. Her opponent looked up and blocked all of them with a wind shield. Then he noticed Marie would land behind him. The moment the ice stopped, he turned around. In that moment, he felt something on his neck.

  Marie had created a rapier sword made of ice, the tip just touching her opponent's neck.

  "Winner: Marie!"

  Inside the VIP room, Darius wrote another note.

  'Skilled. Reckless.'

  He didn't bother looking impressed.

  Roy was watching Marie's match, but before he could finish it, his name was called.

  He walked to the platform without hurry. His opponent, a girl with a spear, was practically bouncing in place, probably excited to prove herself.

  'Middle,' Roy reminded himself. 'Win one or two matches then lose. No easy wins and no devastating losses. If I'm lucky and get a strong opponent, I can lose fast.'

  "Begin!"

  The spear lunged toward his stomach. Roy stepped to the right, just enough for it to miss. The second thrust came quicker. He ducked, seeing that the girl had overstepped. He swept the girl's legs out from under her.

  She fell down. Roy quickly got up, took the spear, and pointed it to her neck.

  'She was using it really badly. And did she even use her power?'

  "Winner: Roy!"

  Murmurs rippled through the students.

  On the balcony, Instructor Darius narrowed his eyes slightly.

  'Good footwork. Read his opponent well. Not pushing himself.'

  He didn't smile. He just wrote: 'Hiding his strength? Or is his opponent not strong enough for him to show it?'

  Valeria Stormrend's turn came right after.

  She stepped onto the platform with a calm expression, sword resting loosely in her hand. The sunlight caught the strands of red and gold in her hair, making it look like it was burning.

  Her opponent was a bulky boy with a shield. Not the wooden one Silvergate gave students, but one made of stone, created by his own power. He stomped onto the ring like he owned it.

  "Begin!"

  The shield shot forward like a battering ram. Valeria didn't back away. She charged.

  Her sword came down like a bolt of lightning. Literally. A sharp spark of blue light traced the edge of the blade, crackling with restrained power.

  She hit the shield dead-on. The shockwave rattled the arena.

  The shield-boy gritted his teeth and pushed back. Valeria twisted, kicking the side of his knee with brutal precision, forcing him off balance. Then she raised her sword overhead and slammed it down with a blinding flash of lightning.

  The shield cracked into two halves. The boy dropped to his knees, unconscious.

  "Winner: Valeria Stormrend!"

  The crowd's roar was louder than for anyone else so far. Both from excitement and fear of facing her

  Even the two other teachers were nodding.

  "Now that is control," one said.

  "Raw talent and training," the other added.

  Darius remained silent.

  'Strong. Confident. Solid technique. She's used to fighting stronger opponents.'

  He marked her higher than the rest.

  Roy's eyes lingered on her for a moment. She stood tall on the platform, sword broken from the force of her strikes, face unreadable.

  'Great,' he thought. 'She's not the kind of person people forget about. Just what I don't need. Lose to her fast? Too bad. Fight for a while? People will think we're close. Win? Don't even think about it.'

  After a long time, the four platforms reached their final matches. Even though every group finished at different speeds, no final fight happened until every group was ready. It was a tradition: to see the end fight of each group without them covering up another fight.

  They decided to begin with the first group to finish: Group 3.

  Roy and Valeria stood facing each other.

  Roy, though he looked calm outwardly, was internally screaming.

  'What happened? How did I get here? That wasn't part of the plan!'