I stood in the grad hall everyone was done being evaluated.
Orb of Evaluation dimmed, signaling the end of the rankings
Then suddenly a man appeared on the stage.
He was a tall, thin man draped in an ornate black robe that seemed to drink in the light.
His presence was unsettling, amplified by his eyes pure black, without pupils or whites, like staring into twin voids.
He was the headmaster of the Astrea academy.
An Archmage with terrifying power.
Worry crept into me.
Will he notice the mask.
"He won't sense it right"
Realistically speaking a Archmage should not be able sense a divine artifacr.
But I couldn't help but worry.
What if he did.
He might be the headmaster but the greed caused by the Divine artifact is immeasurable.
"Welcome, students," his voice was deep, calm, but it carried an eerie weight. Each syllable seemed to resonate in the chest, demanding attention. "You have taken the first step in your journey at Astrea Academy. Today, your strength, your wit, and your resolve will determine your rank."
As he said this relief filled my body.
It seems like he didn't notice it.
The student's surrounding me started murmuring.
The headmaster raised a hand, and the whispers died instantly.
"Your rankings will not be decided by mere words or potential," he continued. "But by your performance in combat."
His black eyes swept over the room, lingering on a few faces including mine.
When he looked at me I was again worried.
But all of a sudden a felt a strange hum and I calmed down.
"You will face an opponent matched to test you," he said, his tone cold. "Your rank will reflect your performance. Victory is not required, but your efforts will define how you are judged."
The hall buzzed with excitement and dread as the headmaster turned to a row of faculty members, each carrying a shimmering crystal.
"Your matches will now be announced."
stood in a line with the other students, nerves twisting in my gut.
"Kai Night," the proctor called.
I stepped forward, forcing myself to move with confidence.
The proctor handed me a slip of paper with a single name: Garrick Ashforge.
I looked across the arena, spotting him instantly.
Garrick was broad shouldered and confident, flames flickering faintly around his fists as he adjusted the gauntlets on his hands.
"Fire element," I muttered under my breath.
Images of the fire wolf flashed in my mind its molten eyes, its relentless attacks. My grip tightened around the hilt of my sword.
"Figures," I sighed, stepping into the arena.
"My luck with fire sucks doesn't it"
I stepped on to the dueling platform.
The dueling platform was circular, its surface inscribed with glowing runes designed to contain stray mana.
I looked at opponent.
Garrick was tall board shouldered man with red hair and eyes.
He radiated confidence.
Flames danced along his knuckles as he cracked them, grinning.
"This'll be over fast," he said arrogantly with a faint smirk on his face.
I was far from ready but for some mysterious reason I was calm.
"Begin!"
I barely registered what had been said and then garrick suddenly lunged at me.
He was fast, closing the gap between us in an instant, flames erupting from his gauntlets as he swung.
I dodged left and right.
His fire wasn't as hot as wolfs but it still did sting.
"You can't run forever!" Garrick shouted
His flames got even stronger.
But man was he loud.
He unleashed a barrage of fiery strikes.
But his shout had hurt me more than these punches that I was barely avoiding.
My training sword stayed at my side, untouched.
I could hear the crowd saying "Why isn't he fighting back".
Truth was, I didn't know how to fight with a sword.
Trying to use it would just make a fool out of myself.
So instead I was hoping for the right moment to end it in 1 move to not show my inexperience
"Come on!" Garrick roared, flames surging toward me in a massive arc.
The was heat was not comparable to the wolf but.
His voice was unbearable.
I stumbled, my foot catching on the edge of the platform.
Garrick saw the opening.
He lunged, his fist engulfed in flames, aimed straight for my chest.
"Shit"
Instinctively I recalled the encounter with the wolf.\
The space between us folded.
One moment, Garrick's fiery fist was inches from my chest. The next, I was behind him.
The crowd gasped as I reappeared in a blur, my sword drawn and the edge resting lightly against his neck.
"I win"
It wasn't a clean move. I'd barely managed to execute the Flash Step without collapsing, but to everyone else, it looked effortless.
The faint scent of blood still clung to my sword the remnants of my fight with the fire wolf.
The smell mixed with the scene, making it seem as though I'd been toying with Garrick the entire time, mocking him by not using my blade until the end.
"You…" he whispered, his voice trembling. "You're mocking me?"
I didn't respond, lowering my sword and stepping back. The truth was, I didn't know what I was doing but they didn't need to know that.
What did I just do.
Garrick glared at me, his fists still trembling. "This isn't over," he growled, stepping off the platform.
His voice hurts my ears more than his flames did.
Then I proceeded to leave the arena.
I managed to hide it but I could barely walk.
Just as I was leaving I heard something.
A bloodcurdling scream.
I turned around to see what it was.
What I saw was. A student lay sprawled on the ground, clutching the stump of his arm. His arm laying a few feet away from him. Cut of cleanly as if it was an amputation.
I then looked at the perpetrator of this scene. It was Mortis, He was calm, detached, his mirrored eyes reflecting the carnage around him.
His right arm drenched in blood.
His sword still laying in his sheath.