The sun had barely crested the horizon when Sheung arrived breathless at the stone-lined amphitheatre. The vast arena lay nestled against a slope of flowering trees, its terraces cut into pale granite like the rings of an ancient stadium.
At its center, on the wide practice floor, a lone figure danced with a long wooden staff.
Sheung halted, eyes widening.
The young man from the corridors—the one who had kindly shown him the way to the alchemy hall—whirled the staff in gleaming arcs. Four opponents encircled him: a towering swordsman, a slender woman whose fingers crackled with green light, a graceful unarmed fighter moving like a shadow, and a second woman with throwing knives glinting between her fingers.
The staff whistled and snapped as the young man deflected strikes from every side. He ducked a sweeping blade, pivoted under a flying kick, and thrust the staff's butt into the knife wielder's ribs, sending him sprawling.
The attackers regrouped, grinning, and pressed in again. The staff spun like a living creature, weaving a seamless defense, never letting any one foe close enough to land a decisive blow.
Sheung felt his heart pound in his chest.
I want to move like that… I want to protect others like that.
A bell chimed, and the sparring partners lowered their weapons, all laughing and clapping one another on the back.
The staff wielder glanced up—and caught Sheung watching. He lifted his staff in a playful salute. Sheung ducked his head, face flushing.
Soon, students began to fill the amphitheatre, streaming in from all directions, each wearing robes marked with the colors and sigils of their houses.
By the time the sun rode higher, the amphitheatre's seats were full.
At the center stage stood a stern-looking instructor in dark red and silver robes. His voice boomed out across the stone seats.
"Welcome, new initiates. I am Master Grimm, Chief of Martial Disciplines. Magic alone is insufficient to survive the harsh truths of our world. Your body must be a weapon as much as your brush, wand, or talisman."
He clasped his hands behind his back.
"You will choose your path. The one you select now may define your strength for years to come. And so… meet your instructors!"
He gestured behind him, and four figures stepped forward.
First was the young man with the staff, who twirled it effortlessly. Master Grimm spoke:
"This is Arkell Soren, specialist in staff and all bludgeon-type weapons. Versatile, defensive, ideal for those who value flexibility and range."
Next came the towering swordsman, his presence like a drawn blade.
"This is Brand Volker, master of bladed weapons. The sword, the saber, the greatsword—all arts of offense and lethal precision."
The slender woman stepped forward next, winking at the crowd.
"This is Maelis of Windpath, mistress of ranged weapons—bows, throwing blades, spirit javelins. Strike from afar. Invisible. Deadly."
Lastly, the graceful unarmed fighter gave a short bow.
"And here is Varin, of the Empty Hand. The art of defeating magic and blade alike with only your body and chi."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. The sword was clearly the most glamorous. Dozens of students surged down to stand beside Brand, excited chatter rising around the bladed weapons master.
Maelis and Varin drew decent groups as well, drawn by speed or the romance of hand-to-hand combat.
When Arkell stepped forward, spinning his staff in a smooth flourish, only a few students approached him, hesitantly.
Sheung took a deep breath. Then he strode straight toward Arkell.
The staff master broke into a wide grin.
"Ah, the wandering Taoist himself!" he said, clapping Sheung on the shoulder. "Didn't get lost this time?"
Sheung blushed. "Not yet. I came early. I… wanted to see how it was done."
"Smart move," Arkell chuckled. "And don't worry—soon you'll be smacking swordsmen upside the head, too."
Only two other students had joined Sheung beside Arkell. One was a smallish boy with copper-colored hair, wearing dark green robes edged in silver sigils. His eyes sparkled with curiosity as he studied Sheung's robes.
"I'm Nilo," the boy said quietly. "From the Forest Veil Hall. People say staves are boring, but I think they're elegant."
Sheung smiled faintly. "I agree."
Across the arena, Zev was glaring at him from Brand Volker's group, arms folded tightly.
Master Grimm raised his voice again.
"Form up, students! You begin your first drills today. Remember—your weapon does not define you. You define your weapon."
Arkell leaned closer and whispered, "Try not to hit yourself in the face on the first swing. Trust me… hurts like hell."
Sheung couldn't help laughing. For the first time since arriving at the Academy, he felt… excited.
I will become strong. Strong enough to protect the sect. Strong enough to find the truth.
He followed Arkell to the practice floor, ready to begin.