"So," Micah drawled, his smug smile oozing confidence, "heard you took down a level 3 beast solo. Pretty impressive for a first-year." He straightened from his lounging position, towering over Noah. "If you weren't stuck in 1B, I might've even considered extending you an... invitation."
The way he said "invitation" made it sound like some kind of royal decree. 'Because heaven forbid the elite hand out party invites to the commoners,' Noah thought sarcastically.
"Either way," Micah continued, his smile never reaching his eyes, "the top 25 are watching you now." With that parting shot, he and his entourage turned and walked away, their synchronized footsteps echoing down the corridor.
'What the hell was that about?!' Noah stood there for a moment, processing the bizarre encounter. 'Great, more attention. Just what I needed.'
Shaking it off, he headed into the martial arts complex. A stern-faced assistant directed him toward the changing rooms – a spacious area divided into separate sections for boys and girls. Inside, rows of lockers lined the walls, and the air carried the familiar scent of cedar wood and fresh laundry.
Another assistant handed him a crisp white kimono and a green belt. 'At least they're organized,' Noah thought as he changed. The material was surprisingly comfortable, though the belt took him a few tries to tie properly.
Following the signs, he made his way to the dojo – a circular room with polished wooden floors that seemed to glow under the soft lighting. The ceiling rose high above, traditional lanterns casting a warm glow over everything. Paper screens lined the walls, decorated with intricate calligraphy.
Students filed in silently, guided by assistants who motioned them to sit in a semicircle on the floor. Noah didn't recognize many faces – mostly students from 1A and 1C. 'Guess 1B isn't big on martial arts.'
The silence was almost meditative, broken only by the occasional rustle of fabric as someone adjusted their position. Then, like a scene from one of those pre-Harbinger movies about ancient masters, an elderly man entered the circle.
His white beard flowed down to his chest, and he moved with the kind of fluid grace that made it impossible to guess his true age. He surveyed the room with keen eyes that seemed to see right through them.
"I am Lee Anng," he announced, his voice surprisingly strong and clear. "And I will be your teacher."
'Well,' Noah thought, noting the way even the assistants seemed to hold their breath when the old man spoke, 'this should be interesting.'
The dojo suddenly felt more ancient, more serious – as if the weight of centuries of martial tradition had descended upon them. It was easy to forget, sitting there, that outside these walls lay a world of beast cores and Harbinger threats. In here, time seemed to move differently.
'Though something tells me,' Noah mused, watching Lee Anng's calculating gaze sweep the room, 'this isn't going to be anything like those old martial arts movies.'
"Welcome to your first official class," Lee Anng's voice carried through the dojo. "Which would have happened earlier, but unfortunately, I was deployed."
The word hung in the air like a thunderclap. 'Deployed?!' Noah thought, seeing the same shock reflected on other faces around him.
Everyone knew what deployment meant in their world – either beast suppression or Harbinger containment. Neither was a job for the faint of heart. Or, typically, the elderly. 'This old man still serves on the front lines? Looking like he should be tending a zen garden?'
"I must say," Mr. Anng continued, seemingly oblivious to their collective surprise, "I'm overwhelmed by this year's turnout. Usually, these classes attract... less interest."
Noah could understand why. With options like Beast Mastery and Combat Engineering available, traditional martial arts seemed almost quaint. 'Hell, I only signed up because my old ability was about as combat-ready as a rubber duck.' He shifted slightly. 'Though that's changed now...'
"These uniforms you wear," Mr. Anng gestured to their kimonos, "they carry significance. They demand respect." His fingers touched his own pristine white belt – a sight that made Noah revise his assumptions about belt rankings. "Through your three years here, your belt colors will change, reflecting not just your skill, but your character."
The old master's eyes swept the room. "Now, I'd like to see what my students are capable of. A sparring match, perhaps?" His gaze settled on Noah. "You, and..." he pointed across the circle, "you."
Noah's opponent stood up – a boy about his height but leaner, with close-cropped dark hair and sharp features. The way he moved suggested some prior training, his movements economical and precise.
"Ah, Raven Chen from Class 1A," Mr. Anng nodded. "And Noah Eclipse from 1B. Perfect. This will help me evaluate your current abilities."
'Of course it's someone from 1A,' Noah thought as he rose, feeling everyone's eyes on them. 'Because this day hasn't been complicated enough.'
Raven took his position opposite Noah, his expression unreadable. But there was something in his stance – a subtle confidence that spoke of experience.
"Remember," Mr. Anng's voice cut through the tension, "this is evaluation only. We're here to learn where you are, not where you think you should be." He looked between them. "Begin when ready."
'Right,' Noah thought, settling into a basic stance. 'Let's see what Class 1A is made of.'
The dojo fell silent except for the soft whisper of feet on polished wood as the two circled each other. Through the paper screens, afternoon light cast long shadows across the floor, and somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled.
A hush fell over the dojo as Raven made his first move. He glided forward with practiced ease, but something strange caught Noah's attention – a feather-light white line, like chalk drawn in the air. Before Noah could process what he was seeing, the outline materialized into reality as Raven's foot arced through the exact same path, whistling toward his head.
'What the hell was that?' Noah barely managed to jerk back, the kick missing his face by millimeters. But Raven was already moving, flowing like water into his next attack. His leg swept low and fast, catching Noah completely off-guard.
The world spun as Noah's feet left the ground. His back hit the polished wood with a solid thud that echoed through the dojo, forcing the air from his lungs.
"Bet he won't be coming up from that one," someone muttered from the circle, their voice carrying in the silence.
Noah pushed himself up, his head still ringing. 'That white line... what was it?' He settled back into his stance, trying to shake off the disorientation. But then he caught Raven's smug grin, and something hot and angry coiled in his chest. 'Whatever that weird vision was, it threw me off. Not this time.'
Determination replaced confusion. Noah bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, his movements becoming more fluid. He darted right, then left, throwing a feint hook that Raven watched with calculated patience. 'Too experienced to fall for basic tricks, huh?'
Noah launched into a high kick, mimicking Raven's earlier attack. His foot sliced through the air toward Raven's face, but his opponent was ready. Raven's block came up hard and fast, deflecting Noah's leg and pushing him off balance.
Rather than fight the momentum, Noah rolled with it, adjusting his stance and creating space between them. His feet slid smoothly across the wooden floor as he reassessed his position, measuring the distance with careful precision.
'Alright,' he thought, watching Raven's controlled movements. 'Let's try this again.'
The exchange picked up pace, both fighters weaving and bobbing around each other's strikes. Raven's technique was crisp, each movement flowing into the next like water. Noah matched him, but barely – until he saw it again.
Noah's weight was pitched forward, his right arm extended from the punch that Raven had deliberately drawn out. His front foot was planted too far ahead, knee slightly buckled, while his back foot had lost contact with the wooden floor. His torso was twisted awkwardly between these two points, core muscles stretched and unable to generate any meaningful power or movement.
Raven, by contrast, had pivoted expertly on his planted left foot. His right leg was already chambered, knee cocked high, ready to unleash a roundhouse kick that would trace a perfect horizontal arc toward Noah's exposed temple. Their positioning formed a deadly geometry – Noah's compromised stance leaving him only one direction to move: straight into the path of Raven's incoming strike.
In that frozen moment of vulnerability, with sweat beading on his forehead and muscles screaming from the awkward position, Noah saw it – the white line drawing the kick's inevitable trajectory through the air, a ghostly preview of the violence to come.
It was like watching his own funeral in slow motion.
Noah felt gravity's cruel pull on his overextended body. By every law of physics and fighting, he was about to become intimately acquainted with Raven's foot.
'But I can see it coming.'
Noah dropped, the kick sailing over his head in exactly the path the white line had traced. A collective gasp rippled through the watching students. From their perspective, Noah's dodge had been impossible – his position and momentum should have left him completely vulnerable.
Not wasting the advantage of surprise, Noah surged upward, closing the distance before Raven could recover. His arms locked around Raven's torso, and they hit the ground together. Noah's grip shifted, applying pressure around raven's neck until Raven's hand slapped the wooden floor three times.
"Impossible!" Raven spat the moment Noah released him, face flushed with more than just exertion. "Master Anng, you saw that, right? He had to have cheated. There's no way he could have dodged that kick!"
Noah stayed silent, his heart pounding. He could feel Lee Anng's penetrating gaze studying him. 'Yeah, how exactly do I explain seeing attack patterns before they happen?'
The old master's expression remained unreadable as he looked between the two students. The dojo held its breath, waiting for his verdict.
The room suddenly felt very still, very quiet, as if even the afternoon light filtering through the paper screens was holding its position, waiting to see what would happen next.
"An excellent demonstration from you both," Master Anng's voice cut through the tension like a well-honed blade. "After all, this was merely a spar. There are lessons here for everyone." His eyes, sharp despite their age, moved between Noah and Raven. "Sometimes victory teaches us less than defeat."
He turned to the circle, pointing to two female students. "Next participants, please step forward."
As the girls rose and took their positions, Noah felt Raven's eyes boring into him. The 1A student's face was a mask of barely contained fury, his earlier composure completely shattered.
'Yeah, this isn't over,' Noah thought, catching Raven's hostile glare. The look promised future complications – another item to add to his growing list of problems.
The sound of bare feet on wood drew his attention back to the center as the next match began. But even as he watched the new sparring session, Noah couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just made his life at the academy even more complicated.
He absently touched the spot where his head had hit the floor. 'At least the white lines proved useful... whatever they are.'
Beside him, Raven's rigid posture radiated displeasure like a small sun. 'Though something tells me explaining "I saw the future" wouldn't have gone over well.'