"Students, today we'll be conducting a three-way mock battle," said teacher Robert, addressing his F-class students from the Mage Department.
He stood near the edge of a wide stone arena, its surface etched with faint runes that glowed softly under the sunlight.
"This arena has space runes that will teleport anybody hurt to a certain extent to outside it, reducing the risk of fatal injuries," he continued.
"When I call your names, step forward and position yourselves at one edge of the arena," Robert instructed.
"Clarice Aston." The vampire who called Elion Seraphina's blood sack.
"Tristan Haven." An elf from a noble family outside the capital.
"Elion."
Hearing his name, Elion stepped forward, catching sight of Clarice standing opposite him with a mischievous smile on her lips.
'What's with that grin? Does she still hold a grudge? Our last conversation wasn't worth this kind of hostility… right?'
