"Did he just pick light?"
"He's insane! No one's ever lasted long against light as a first-year."
"Does he even want to stay in the academy? This is suicide!"
"He's going to fail spectacularly."
The murmurs of Damon's classmates filled the air, dripping with mockery and disbelief. He ignored them, focusing instead on the dial in front of him. The quiet hum of the mechanism confirmed his choice: light.
Professor Kael Blackthorn stepped forward, his cold, grim expression cutting through the room's chatter like a blade.
"Light, is it? Truly, your overconfidence knows no bounds. Or perhaps this is your way of ensuring your failure is as spectacular as possible."
His words drew laughter from the class, the kind that sought to humiliate rather than amuse. Damon clenched the twin glass-like daggers in his hands, their reflective surfaces catching the room's brightness.
'That wasn't even funny,' Damon thought, shaking his head.
