The arena twisted itself into something new—stone tiles replaced sand, and jagged obsidian pillars rose from the ground like broken spears. A cold wind blew across the battlefield, though the sky above remained eerily still.
Kieran stood with his team at the edge of the ring. The transformation of the Dreamforged Arena never failed to unsettle him. It wasn't an illusion. It felt like the world truly shifted with every match, built by the arena's will—or something older behind it.
The second match had begun.
Their opponents stood across from them: five students from Frostgarde Academy, the northern bastion known for its discipline and sheer, unrelenting pressure. Clad in silver and slate armor woven with ice threads, they looked more like soldiers than students.
"They're not here to play," Rei muttered.
"No one is," Selene replied, her voice calm, fingers flexing as light shimmered faintly in her palm.
Talon's knuckles were white around the dagger he gripped. Calla rolled her shoulders, flame flickering at her fingertips.
Kieran stayed quiet.
The announcer's voice echoed like thunder:
"Umbravale versus Frostgarde. Begin."
The Frostgarde team didn't rush. They advanced in formation—two in front, two behind, one holding the center. Shields shimmered with elemental glyphs, boots crushing stone with military rhythm.
"They're testing us," Kieran said. "Wait for their lead. Don't split."
Calla grinned, low and steady. "You're starting to sound like Corvan."
Kieran didn't smile.
Flames burst first—Calla unleashed a fan of fire to push back the two vanguard enemies. Rei moved immediately, silent as a breath, his blade finding a seam in their line. Metal clashed with elemental barriers.
Frostgarde's middle fighter retaliated, slamming a hammer charged with frost into the ground. A shockwave of cold surged forward.
Selene stepped forward, light blooming from her hands. The shockwave hit a radiant wall mid-air—and shattered harmlessly.
"Talon, left!" Kieran called.
Talon vanished into the shadows of a pillar, reappearing behind the enemy archer. A quiet strike, precise and low. Not lethal. Just enough to stagger.
Kieran's shadow twitched. He inhaled. Held it down. Not now.
He focused instead on their leader—a tall girl with white hair braided like thorns, her eyes gleaming with frost.
She raised her hand—and the air around her began to hum.
Aspect: Cryolysis.
Ice did not form. It detonated. Spears of frozen vapor exploded from every angle.
Kieran moved without thinking—diving, grabbing Talon, rolling behind a stone outcrop.
Selene covered Calla with a wall of refracted light. Rei was forced back, his shoulder rimmed with frostbite.
This wasn't just pressure. This was strategy.
"We can't win straight on," Kieran muttered. "We break the leader's stance."
Calla's eyes blazed. "On it."
She launched forward, dodging frostbursts, flames wrapping around her arms like armor.
Selene pulsed light into her steps, keeping her alive second by second.
Rei rejoined, blade dancing. Talon circled.
And Kieran waited. Watched.
Then struck.
He emerged from the shadows at the perfect moment, a shard of memory-glass in hand. He didn't go for a lethal strike—just the leg. Enough to drop her. Enough to end it.
It landed.
And Frostgarde's formation shattered.
The rest unfolded like a storm: coordinated, brutal, precise. Each member of Umbravale fought not as individuals, but as extensions of the same strategy.
The match ended with the Frostgarde team collapsing in defeat, their bodies dimming as the simulation faded.
A pause. A breath. Then the arena shimmered back to its neutral state.
Umbravale stood victorious.
From the high platform, instructors and observers watched. Some whispered. Some took notes.
And somewhere behind the veil of glass, a boy in black with a maroon cloak leaned back in his seat.
Victor smiled.
Not with joy. With certainty.
"The next round will be more interesting," he whispered.
And below, Kieran's hand trembled. Not from pain. But from what hadn't yet awakened.