A strange silence settled over the training grounds, the kind that only comes after sustained chaos. The air, once thick with shouted commands, the crackle of abilities, and the impact of practice weapons, now felt thin and still. My arms ached pleasantly, the phantom warmth of my fire-sword still clinging to my palm. A quick glance at my teammates confirmed similar states. Wren was breathing heavily, a bright, triumphant grin plastered on his face as he wiped a smudge of dirt from his cheek. Lira flexed her hands, the last vestiges of her bestial transformation receding, leaving behind faint red marks where the thorns had bitten. Kael stood impassive as ever, but I caught the slight, satisfied tilt of his head as he surveyed the defeated Team Vorgen. Raven leaned on Aetherwing, his breathing steady, the golden light of his healing having sealed the numerous minor cuts and bruises from the needle-girl's assault.
We had done it. We had fought as a single, coherent unit and won.
Instructor Garrick's voice cut through the post-battle haze, not with a boom, but with a carrying, official tone. "The intra-squad ranking matches are concluded. The final standings are now posted."
A collective rush swept the student body towards the large, magically-updated slate at the edge of the field. We joined the flow, a current of exhausted and eager bodies. My heart, which had finally begun to slow, picked up its pace again. This was the true measure. This was where we stood.
The names glowed with a soft, blue light. My eyes scanned from the top, past teams I only knew by reputation.
First Place: Team Valerius.
Second Place:Team Sylas.
Third Place:Team Goran.
I swallowed, my gaze dropping lower. I saw Team Darain at fifth, a fact that sent a small, vindictive thrill through me. Then, I saw it.
Seventh Place: Team Adam.
A wave of pure, unadulterated relief washed over me so strongly my knees felt weak. Seventh. Out of the entire freshman class and the more experienced upper-year teams, we had secured seventh. We were in the top tier. We were…
My eyes flicked down two more lines.
Ninth Place: Team Cain.
A low murmur rippled through the crowd around us. Ninth. They were ranked below us. The implication was stark. Cain's team, for all its terrifying, individual power, lacked the cohesion we had just demonstrated. Their brutal, grudge-match victory had cost them points in the eyes of the instructors. Ours, a display of strategy and control, had earned them.
I felt a presence beside me and turned to find Cain himself. His cold eyes were fixed on the slate, his jaw a hard line. He didn't look at me, but his voice, a low whisper, was meant for my ears alone.
"A clever trick," he said, the words dripping with condescension. "Burning the ground. Using a beast to hold a man down. Seventh place." He finally turned his head, and the blizzard in his gaze was enough to freeze the blood in my veins. "Remember this moment, Ashblade. This is the highest you will ever climb. The real fights haven't even begun."
He didn't wait for a retort. He turned and shouldered his way through the crowd, his team falling in behind him like a pack of shadows. Rowan gave me a final, unreadable glance before melting away.
Wren let out a breath he seemed to have been holding forever. "Well, he's just a bundle of sunshine, isn't he?"
"He's right about one thing," Raven said, his pragmatic tone a bucket of cold water. "This was just the qualifier. The Academy's annual Grand Tournament is next. The rankings determine our initial seeding, but that's where we'll face the true monsters." His eyes trailed back up to the top of the board, to Team Valerius.
"So what now?" Lira asked, rolling a stiff shoulder.
"Now," Kael stated, his voice flat. "We train. They have seen our abilities. The next opponents will be prepared."
His words settled over us, a sobering truth. Our element of surprise was gone. Our tricks were now known. Vorgen's adaptation, the shield-bearer's barrier, the druid's seeds—they were just the beginning. The teams above us, the ones we would have to face in the tournament, would have seen it all and would already be devising counters.
But as I looked at my team—at Raven's unwavering resolve, Wren's resilient energy, Lira's fierce loyalty, and Kael's deadly precision—the anxiety morphed into a sharp, focused anticipation. We were Team Adam. We were ranked seventh. And we were just getting started.
"He's right," I said, my own voice firmer than I expected. I looked away from the slate, from Cain's retreating back, and towards the living quarters, towards the training fields. "Let's get to work."
The first round was over. The real competition was about to begin.