The chessboards had been packed away. The hall where minds had clashed now lay empty. But for Xero, the tension still lingered in his thoughts like a pulse in his veins. He stood near the training yard, staring into nothing.
Footsteps approached behind him. He turned sharply and noticed that some people were gathering together for chit chats. Then he felt a breeze blow against his face.
"Man," Sonze's deep voice boomed behind him. "You did it."
Xero turned. The bulky recruit stood with his arms crossed, wearing a grin that looked too big for his square jaw.
"Didn't think you were the brainy type. You play quiet too much," Sonze said. "But you made Edwin sweat. That's mad. I respect you for that."
Xero nodded. "It was a test. Like the others."
Sonze let out a low laugh. "Bro, no. That was legendary. They'll be whispering that around the dorms for weeks. You pulled off a great feat there bro."
Xero didn't respond, but a faint smile ghosted across his lips. Praise was rare here. From Sonze, it meant something. His fists tightened as he remembered Edwin's words. Don't screw it up by dying. Maybe if he could be as strong as Sonze that would be good. But as nature is, no one is perfect. He could not possibly be good in both martial arts and brains at the same time even though he knew of one–Xui Hai.
He was still lost in thoughts when Sonze pulled him out of his dream world to the reality.
"Come on," Sonze gestured. " Instructor Derick is calling us in. Next test's about to start."
The recruits filed into the eastern sparring dome. The chamber was wide, circular, and smelled of oiled wood and cold steel. Sword racks stood in organized rows. Shields, spears, axes—all neatly aligned.
At the center stood Derick. His armor was half-worn—chest plate, leather gloves, forearm guards but his blade was fully strapped to his back. A two-handed longsword that most would need both arms to lift. His eyes were calm, sunken with experience.
"Listen well," Derick said. "Right now, we test the body. Not just muscle but how you fight. Think. Flow. Respond. There are many who hold swords. But few who wield them. This is not about thoughts but about martial sense. The first test was to see to what extent can you think . Now you have to prove to us what those tests meant to you."
He pointed toward the central arena. "You will step forward one by one. Face me. Last as long as you can. Land a strike, and you pass. Get knocked down, and you're done. I will not go easy. We are not ready to upbring the weak. But I assume you are the best of the thousands that were with us at the beginning. It would be a shame if you fail to act like the vector you claim you are. "
A murmur moved through the recruits. One by one, they stepped forward.
Clark went first. Agile, nimble.
He dodged three of Derick's swipes, spun in a half arc, and aimed for the shoulder.
Derick blocked with one hand, twisted the blade, and knocked Clark off his feet with a fluid side sweep. Only five seconds.
Next, Rin Valek. Fast strikes. Overhead slashes.
Derick disarmed him in four seconds. Others followed. Only to be defeated like swats of flies. He was a Grand Master and that made him a bit too powerful for their class.
One by one they failed in. Sonze survived the longest so far: twelve seconds before Derick tapped his shoulder with the blade.
"You move too blunt " Derick said. "That bluntness would be your death. Better work on that."
Then came Xero.
He stepped into the ring calmly. His sword a standard straight-blade—rested in his palm. He bowed slightly. Derick inclined his head.
"Begin."
Xero darted in low, feinting left, twisting to right. Derick responded with a single deflecting arc that barely missed slicing Xero's arm.
Xero responded with three jabs, one upward thrust.
Derick blocked all, fluid as water. He stepped inside Xero's guard and knocked the sword clean from his hands.
"Faster than most," Derick said, "but not fast enough."
Xero stood, breathing hard. "Noted."
He left the ring, pride intact. Even if defeated, he had lasted longer than nearly everyone before him.
But the real challenge came next. Xui Hai walked up the stage. She stepped into the ring like smoke a flame waiting to burn.
Derick's eyes narrowed as he stared at her. She winked mischievously at him and he grinned lightly. She smiled.
"Don't go easy," she warned.
He smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it." Annd with that they began.
Her first strike was a flicker. Blade down, then up. She spun and struck again, hitting twice in different angles.
Derick countered each with careful control but not without stepping back. She was pulling in more than anyone had done in just one second?
She pressed harder. A flurry of slashes—each elegant, lethal. A faint smile crossed her lips.
Derick grunted. "You're skilled."
She didn't respond. She only kicked in, using her sword to swipe left and suddenly taking in the right but Derick too skilled to allow the attack. He countered it.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
She ducked under his blade, spun behind him, and nearly grazed his calf.
Derick parried and sent her tumbling with a reverse elbow.
She hit the ground and flipped back up.
Forty-five seconds.
Derick struck faster. She dodged, spun, kicked off the ground, and lunged. He turned, redirected her blade, stepped in and ended it.
His sword rested against her throat.
"Enough." he said calmly.
She stood still, then smiled. "Almost."
"You're dangerous," he replied. "That's good."
She bowed. Her pride rising in immediately. She walked evenly and grazed across the crowd. The room was still. Even Derick exhaled slowly.
"Most of you failed. But you learned. Fighting isn't just instinct. It's memory. Reflex. Spirit."
He looked at Xero and Xui Hai.
"You two came closest. One with creativity. One with skill."
With that the weaponry test was over.
Tomorrow would test something deeper: the awakening of potential and the real war would begin.