Eventually—after what felt like an eternity for Rowan—Professor Renwick groaned as he pushed himself up from his chair. His knees popped loudly in the quiet lull, the sound echoing like firecrackers across the classroom.
"Alright, class," he muttered, brushing invisible dust off his coat, "follow me to the back courtyard."
He sighed, pausing at the front of the room. "And please try not to be so loud this time. I got a lovely little note from Administration last week about how we 'disrupted' the advanced theory class with our *barbaric hollering.'" He made exaggerated air quotes with his fingers, clearly still bitter about it.
Renwick gave the class a long, deliberate look—equal parts warning and resignation.
Then, without waiting for a reply, he turned and exited through the creaky wooden door, the hinges groaning like they hadn't been oiled since the academy was built.
Chairs scraped, voices buzzed, and students began to rise.
Rowan stood too, quietly trailing behind the others as they made their way out. Out to the courtyard.
The back courtyard was slightly nicer than the one out front—though that wasn't saying much. Weeds poked through the concrete like they'd been trying to reclaim the land for years, and the slabs were uneven, some jutting up while others dipped low like tired shoulders.
But this place had history. Scratches, burn marks, a faint patch of scorched stone—this was where students had trained, sparred, and failed more times than anyone could count.
To Rowan's classmates, it was nothing unusual. Just another day in another cracked yard.
As the class spilled into the open space, Professor Renwick clapped his hands together, drawing everyone's attention.
"I'll divide the class into four groups," he said. "These groups will be your sparring partners for the rest of the day."
He didn't wait for anyone to volunteer. Walking into the center of the group, he started waving students to one side or the other, forming clusters with little more than a glance. The students shuffled without complaint—this was how things worked.
Renwick stepped back, brushing his hands off like he'd just finished sorting sacks of potatoes.
"I saved you the trouble of picking your own teams," Renwick added with a faint smirk. "You're welcome. Now take a moment to introduce yourselves—can't have a coordinated group if you don't even know who you're fighting with."
Rowan glanced around. His group had five people, including himself.
First was Niko—a tall, lanky boy with shaggy black hair and lazy brown eyes. At first glance, he looked like someone who'd sleep through half his classes, but his deeply tanned skin told a different story. He spent hours outside, working or training, and it showed. His eyes might seem indifferent, but they missed very little.
Standing beside him was Elira. Her hair was a dull, silvery white—almost gray—and it flowed neatly down to her shoulders. She was about Rowan's height, maybe a touch taller. Elira was sharp, both in mind and tongue. She always paid attention, answered questions with precision, and carried herself with confidence. Her emerald green eyes seemed to miss nothing, and she always wore a clean white tunic that matched her hair perfectly—like she was born for clarity and contrast.
On Niko's other side stood Tarin—relaxed, casual, and unreadable in a comforting way. He wore the same lazy smile in class as he did in mock battles, but no one mistook it for carelessness. His hair was jet black, a shade lighter and longer than Niko's, falling just over his eyes. He moved with the ease of someone who understood his body well and trusted it completely.
And behind the trio stood Mira—short, quiet, and barely noticeable if you didn't already know she was there. She had a gentle presence, like a breeze on the back of your neck. She rarely spoke, and when she did, it was soft and calm. Nothing about her outwardly screamed "soldier," but there was something about her silence that made you think twice.
Just as Rowan finished looking everyone over, Elira stepped toward him, her boots lightly tapping the cracked concrete.
"Nice to see you back in class, Rowan," she said, her tone surprisingly casual. "I'm sure you know who I am, but in case you don't—name's Elira."
She turned slightly, angling her body to point at the rest of the group behind her.
"This tall idiot here is Niko—a real childish ass. Don't take anything he says too seriously."
Niko gave a lazy grin and raised two fingers in a mock salute.
"Elira, you wound me," he said, not sounding wounded at all.
She ignored him and nodded to the boy beside him.
"This one's Tarin. Chill as a glacier and about as talkative as one too. Good in a fight, though."
Tarin just gave Rowan a small, two-finger wave and a half-smile, relaxed and nonchalant.
Elira rose up on her toes, craning her neck to point over the boys' shoulders.
"And hiding back there is Mira. She's soft-spoken, but she gives some of the best advice you'll hear in this place—so if she talks, listen."
Mira blinked once and gave Rowan a quiet nod of greeting, then glanced down, her fingers nervously fiddling with the hem of her sleeve.
Soon after assigning the teams, Professor Renwick began handing out team numbers. He started with the group closest to him, taking lazy, unhurried steps as he moved down the line. Rowan's group, being the fourth along his path, was assigned Team Four.
After finishing with the last two groups behind Rowan's, Renwick made his way over to an old, rusted metal bench. He plopped down with a sigh—only to jolt slightly as the cold metal bit through his coat. He blinked in surprise, doing a quick double take at the seat as if it had personally betrayed him.
Renwick clapped his hands once, sharp and loud enough to cut through the chatter.
"Alright, listen up. I assigned your teams numbers so I don't have to yell out names like some confused market vendor. For now, just spar within your group. Get a feel for each other's Resonance and fighting styles. If you don't understand how your teammates fight, you won't last five seconds when it counts."
Elira stepped forward,drawing the gazes of her group members toward her. her emerald eyes sharp and focused. "Alright, here's the plan. Tarin and Niko will start off with a match—offense versus defense, it'll be a good way to warm up and learn from their styles."
She glanced at Mira, then back to the group. "Mira will observe and support—no direct duels for her today."
Finally, Elira looked at Rowan with a small, encouraging smile. "After Tarin and Niko, I'll spar with Rowan. Niko grinned. "Sounds fair. Let's see if Tarin can survive my onslaught."
Tarin shrugged, cracking his knuckles. "Bring it."
Tarin and Niko stepped into their marked arena, the faded yellow lines cracked and worn beneath their boots. Tarin settled into a balanced stance, feet planted firmly, his green eyes narrowing as he raised his arms slightly, the faint blue shimmer of his shield created moments earlier from pure etherium beginning to pulse softly.
Niko stretched lazily but with a spark of anticipation, his brown eyes gleaming as ember-orange flickers sparked around his fists like living flames. He cracked a grin, then flexed his fingers, sending tiny sparks drifting into the air.
The courtyard fell quiet as Tarin and Niko stepped into the center, the rough concrete beneath their feet cracked and weathered from years of use. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the uneven slabs, painting the scene in muted golds and grays.
Niko cracked his knuckles, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His brown eyes gleamed with mischievous energy, but there was a sharp focus beneath it—a controlled chaos ready to erupt. Wisps of ember-orange flickered faintly around his fists, small sparks dancing with each subtle flex of his fingers, betraying the power simmering beneath his laid-back exterior.
Tarin, by contrast, stood calm and grounded. His mid length dark grey hair caught the light as he shifted into a steady stance. His deep green eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressed into a determined line. Around his arms and chest, a faint, shimmering blue shield hovered—a soft, pulsating barrier of swirling etherium encases Niko's whole body, casting a pale glow that contrasted starkly with the fiery embers of Niko's aura.
Elira's voice cut through the tension, calm but firm. "Alright, everyone ready? Let's begin."
Without warning, Niko lunged forward, his body coiling like a tightly wound spring about to snap. Flames erupted from his right fist, streaking molten orange through the air—a fierce blow aimed at Tarin, only to be stopped cold by a shimmering blue shield that had appeared in an instant.
Frustration twisted Niko's face as he hammered the shield with rapid punches. But Tarin was far from passive. With focused precision, he reinforced the shield even as cracks began to spiderweb across its surface. Simultaneously, he summoned several horizontal slabs of pure etherium.
Just as the shield began to splinter and falter, it suddenly vanished, leaving Niko stumbling forward, his punch meeting nothing but empty air.
Tarin's green eyes narrowed sharply, his gaze locking onto Niko's. Without missing a beat, Niko sprang forward again, his speed and fury escalating — a blazing storm of ember and rage ready to break through every defense.
Just as Niko was about to close the distance, Tarin sprang onto a shimmering slab of etherium suspended in midair, his movements fluid and precise. Niko's fist sliced through the empty space where Tarin had just been, narrowly missing by inches. Undeterred, Niko scrambled after him, trying to keep pace as Tarin deftly leapt from platform to platform, each glowing slab pulsing faintly beneath his feet.
With a sudden burst of speed, Tarin encased his fists and forearms in thick, crystalline etherium armor, the light reflecting off the hardened surface like polished glass. Launching himself off the highest platform, he dove toward Niko with unrelenting force. His eyes locked onto his target with fierce determination as reinforced fists propelled him forward.
The two collided with a thunderous crash.
Witnessing the 2 young men clash, Rowan' face paled.
"They really are powerful arent they, what grade you think they will be when they are first assessed?"
Elira put her hand on her chin contemplating the question
"I think they will be placed in grade 1, maybe grade 2 depending on how much they improve by the time of the assessment"
Rowan nodded his head in agreement. Then Elira's face turned puzzled, asking Rowan a question
"Now that i think of it, i have never heard or seen your resonance yet, what is your resonance like"
Rowan looked down somewhat disappointed and embarrassed
"I-I haven't awakened mine yet"
Elira's eyes softened with understanding. "That's okay. Awakening your resonance can take time. Everyone's journey is different." She glanced at Mira and nodded. "Mira's resonance didn't awaken until last year."
Mira, overhearing, looked down and flushed slightly, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah… I was pretty self-conscious about it before it awakened." Her voice dropped to a quiet murmur. "I still feel a bit that way sometimes, especially since my resonance isn't really suited for combat."
Elira gave Mira a reassuring smile. "Hey, don't sell yourself short. Support resonances are just as important as combat ones. Without someone like you watching our backs and keeping us steady, fighters like Niko and Tarin wouldn't last long."
Mira showed a small smile and nodded in understanding.
"Anyway, back to you, Rowan," Elira continued, her tone encouraging. "Think of it this way—you get more time to practice improving your physical strength and strategies. Most people tend to neglect those things once they awaken their resonance."
Elira smiled
Most Resonances benefit from strong physical prowess and good strategy," Elira explained, her tone calm but encouraging. "Take Tarin, for example. His Resonance lets him solidify his Etherium trail into barriers—or really, anything he can think of. That kind of ability needs sharp instincts and quick thinking."
She pointed toward the ongoing duel. Tarin stood atop a floating platform of solidified Etherium, smirking as he stuck his tongue out at Niko below. Niko, gritting his teeth in frustration, wound up to punch through another barrier that had materialized in his path.
"Then there's Niko," Elira continued, smiling slightly. "His Resonance channels Etherium directly into his bloodstream, enhancing his body. The faster his heart beats, the more Etherium floods into his muscles. It's like throwing fuel on a fire. His ability demands constant motion, explosive power, and real physical discipline."
She turned back to Rowan. "So don't feel like you're falling behind. Not having your Resonance yet just means you've had more time to build up the fundamentals—strength, timing, and tactics. Those are what make a Resonance truly effective."
As their conversation came to a close, a sudden, thunderous crash echoed through the courtyard. The impact sent a gust of wind rippling outward, kicking up a dense cloud of dust that swallowed the sparring zone in a haze of swirling gray.
Rowan instinctively turned toward the source, shielding his eyes. Elira and Mira did the same, their expressions tense with anticipation.
When the dust finally began to settle, a dramatic scene emerged. Tarin sat calmly in a makeshift chair sculpted from gleaming Etherium, its edges still shimmering. In front of him lay Niko, sprawled out on the cracked concrete, chest heaving as he gasped for air. Wisps of steam rose from his skin where Etherium-enhanced muscles had pushed past their limit.
Tarin rested an elbow on the arm of his throne, one leg crossed over the other, his usual quiet demeanor intact despite the sweat clinging to his brow. He didn't gloat, but the victory was clear.
Rowan stared, wide-eyed. "They weren't holding back at all…"
When Tarin spotted Rowan staring, he gave a tired but triumphant smile. With a slow raise of his hand, he offered a small, almost playful wave in Rowan's direction—one that said I saw you watching but without a trace of arrogance. Despite the strain in his muscles and the sweat clinging to his jawline, Tarin looked completely at ease, like the fight had been just another part of his day.
Rowan blinked, caught off guard by the gesture, then gave a small wave back, awkward but genuine. His heart still pounded from watching the clash, but he couldn't help the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Wow," he muttered. "He really made that look easy."
Elira chuckled beside him. "That's Tarin for you. Quiet, calculated, and scary good when it counts."
With the first duel finished and the dust still settling, Elira turned to Rowan with a calm smile.
"Looks like it's our turn."
Rowan hesitated, then nodded, stepping into the worn arena beside her. He had no Resonance—no power—but he had his body, his instincts, and the will to try.
Elira took a light stance and grinned. "Don't worry. I'll go easy."
As the sun dipped lower and Group 4's side of the courtyard fell quiet, the two stepped forward—one armed with experience and confidence, the other with nothing but willpower and raw physical prowess.
And just like that, their match began.