The grand arena at Twilight Academy was alive with crackling energy. Disciples from Classes A to F lined up in proud formation. Banners of noble clans fluttered. Spectators from prestigious sects and aristocratic families filled the elevated pavilions.
But Class D was missing.
Han Li leaned against a cold marble pillar in the shadow of the stands, arms crossed, gaze distant. His students stood behind him, not in formal robes but in their battered training outfits—scars, bandages, and fire in their eyes.
"They didn't even give us a platform," grumbled Bai Wei, clutching his sword with trembling hands.
Shen Yu snorted. "They're afraid we'll steal their spotlight."
Just then, Headmaster Yu rose from the central stage, his voice echoing through a jade amplifier. "Welcome to the Mid-Year Combat Tournament! As tradition dictates, only Classes A through F shall compete—"
"—and Class D," Han Li said aloud.
The crowd murmured.
Yu paused mid-sentence, frowning. "Class D was not selected—"
"Yet here we are," Han Li said, stepping forward. "My students challenge the top ten disciples of each class. If we win, we earn our rightful place. If we lose… we vanish."
Gasps echoed.
Instructor Zhao shouted, "This is against regulation!"
Han Li's smile was cold. "So is discrimination."
Yu studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Very well. Let them prove their worth."
The crowd exploded in a mix of shock, anger, and curiosity.
Xuan Mu stepped forward first, lightning dancing on his fists.
From the shadows of the high pavilion, a figure cloaked in gray whispered, "So… the broken ones dare to roar."
And far underground, the Sky-Eater twitched.