For a single, suspended moment, the only sound was the high-pitched whine of the chakram spinning in Cain's hand, a vortex of air tightening around it. Instructor Garrick's mouth was open, his hand raised in the universal signal to stop. But Cain's world had shrunk to a tunnel containing only himself and Darain. The command didn't register. The world didn't exist.
He threw it with a powerful force.
The chakram tore through the air with a sound like fabric ripping, its rotation so fast the wooden edges blurred, the manipulated air around it reducing all resistance to nothing. It was a grey streak of pure, personal vengeance.
Darain's eyes widened, all his noble pride banished by raw, primal fear. He was frozen, a rabbit before a stooping hawk.
But movement came from his side. Caspian, his face a mask of grim determination, lunged in front of his leader. He didn't have time for a skilled parry. He simply planted his feet, roared, and cross-blocked with the thickest part of his wooden practice greatsword, putting all his enhanced strength into a desperate, static defense.
The result was not a block, but a demolition.
The chakram struck the sword. There was a deafening CRACK, not of wood on wood, but of something essential snapping. The enchanted practice greatsword, designed to withstand immense force, split cleanly in two. The top half clattered to the ground, the splintered end smoking faintly. The chakram, its ferocious energy spent, wobbled and dropped at Caspian's feet.
A collective, sharp gasp sucked the air out of the entire field. Shock rendered everyone motionless. The stabilized practice weapons were supposed to be nearly indestructible. Cain's throw, fueled by his grief and rage, had overpowered the academy's own enchantments.
Cain stood panting, his chest heaving. He stared at the broken sword, at Darain's pale, terrified face, and then at his own hands as if seeing them for the first time. The cold fury in his eyes fractured, replaced by a flicker of something hollow and lost. A low, guttural sound of frustration and self-loathing escaped his throat. Without a word to anyone, not even a glance at his own teammates, he turned on his heel and stalked off the field, shoving past a concerned Rowan who tried to speak to him.
The tension he left behind was thick and uncomfortable. It was a palpable mixture of awe, fear, and condemnation.
Into this strained silence, Instructor Garrick's voice cut like a whip, sharp and businesslike, forcefully moving the event forward. "The match is concluded. Team Darain is disqualified for failure to maintain a coherent defense. Team Cain advances." He didn't comment on the destruction. He simply moved on, his eyes scanning the roster. The message was clear: the show must go on, no matter the personal wreckage left in its wake.
His gaze landed on us.
"Next match. Team Raven, prepare to enter the circle."
The words hit me like a physical blow, pulling me from the shocking spectacle of Cain's breakdown. The adrenaline that had been coursing through me as a spectator now turned cold and sharp in my veins. My mouth went dry. My heart, which had been pounding from Cain's display, now hammered against my ribs for a different, more personal reason.
I looked at my teammates. Raven's expression was focused, his grip on his spear tightening. Lira cracked her knuckles, a fierce, eager light in her eyes. Wren was practically vibrating with nervous energy, while Kael's face was an unreadable mask, though I saw his assessing gaze sweep over our upcoming opponents.
This was it. Our turn. After everything—the library, the haunting dream, the system's cryptic messages, the public display of Cain's shattered state—we were being called into the arena. We moved toward the combat circle as the remains of the previous battle were cleared away. The eyes of the entire academy were upon us, their gazes heavy with expectation and the lingering shock of what they had just witnessed. We stepped over the spot where Caspian's sword had been broken, a stark reminder of the raw power we were meant to wield, and the consequences of losing control.