The third day didn't bring rest; it brought a heavy silence that seeped into their bones like the cold of a long winter. Neale woke before everyone else, staring up at the ceiling from the lower bunk. He felt his body beginning to change. It wasn't the Justa Wrath—not yet; there were no signs of colors or auras, and there were certainly still things he couldn't see or understand—but rather a sharpened awareness, the calm instinct of a beast that had once been prey to everyone around it. His hands, once trembling from the exhaustion of the early training days, now clenched with a firmness strong enough to make his knuckles crack.
Breakfast felt mechanical. Even Nuke, usually the most energetic, was quiet. Her eyes—like the chaotic burst of a bomb—seemed lost in the steam rising from the food on the table. Troll and Fitty didn't wake up arguing; instead, they sat side by side, sharing a rag to clean their improvised weapons, like the bread knife from the table. It was the first time a simple meal felt twice as efficient. The "Mediocre" atmosphere had been replaced by something heavier, as if it were a sign of what would happen the next day, yet at the same time it made them all scream inwardly, I can't lose to anything thrown at me out there. Everyone there was determined to claim what they had come to that city for.
"Today's our last day of training," Neale broke the silence. His voice sounded deeper than usual—maybe because he had just woken up—but it carried a presence that gave him an authority he had never wanted and never sought within the group. Still, it sounded like the voice of a leader. "Today we're going to focus on our team synchronization. If the second stage is what I think it is, based on the instructor's hints, we need to show that we're stronger together. That we're a strong team that will survive when chaos begins in that arena."
Everyone nodded in agreement. Neale's gaze was different—heavier, as if he were living in a distant future, maybe one that still included this team.
The training was brutal. Everyone wanted to see how much they had grown over these three days, and today they would train with the people they had the least synchronization with. It was the day to put everything to the test.
Richard, Kilay, and Nuke.
Versus.
Neale, Vitel, and Luan.
Versus.
Fitty, Luna, and Lira.
Versus.
Troll.
It would be everyone against everyone—a knockout-style match with groups of three fighting three, and Troll fighting all of them at once.
"Hey… why don't I have a group, damn it?" Troll complained.
"Fitty said you wanted to test your full potential by fighting all the groups alone," Richard replied.
"And you believed her…? I never said something that stupid… FITTY!" Troll shouted.
"I thought you were friiieeends," Richard teased.
Fitty had turned her back to the commotion, hiding the slight smile on her face.
"Stop whining, kid," Vitel said.
"Easy for you to say, Vitel. You two are practically devils. The only difference is you're more antisocial," Troll shot back.
"I usually don't care about the crap that comes out of your mouth, but right now I really want to punch your face," Vitel replied coldly.
"Bring it on, white-haired granny," Troll challenged.
That was the mood when the training—meant to last only until noon—began. From a distance, it might have looked like a well-choreographed street fight. Up close, you could see their evolution: sharper reflexes, more accurate predictions of strikes. They had even learned to use their own body weight to redirect enemy attacks by reading shoulder movements. Kilay, Nuke, and Richard were one of the hardest combinations to deal with. Their fighting styles were completely different—one precise and disciplined, another explosive, unpredictable, chaotic, and the third nearly invisible in presence yet strong, with a surprisingly heavy punch. Even so, they coordinated well for a first attempt.
Troll was the first—and only one—to be knocked out. But maybe that was because he kept provoking Vitel while fighting her and everyone else at the same time. She didn't hold back, and there was fire in her eyes as they clashed.
And that was how their final training ended, close to one in the afternoon. The rest of the day was for rest, so they'd be ready for whatever awaited them in the arena the next day.
"We overheard the guards talking while we were walking through the halls," Luna said, wiping sweat from her forehead. "It looks like the second stage will be in the same arena, but now all the leaders of every House of the Order will be watching, along with other members."
"What's going to happen tomorrow that so many people are gathering?" Luan wondered.
"Whatever it is, it'll be big," Fitty said. "I don't like it."
Everyone's blood seemed to freeze, as if it were a warning of a bad omen.
"Whatever it is, there's no reason to worry about it now," Kilay said calmly, as always.
"It also looks like we're all stuck here. We can't go into the city until all the stages in the arena are completed—or we get expelled from Kirden," Troll added.
"How do you know that?" Vitel asked.
"I tried to leave to hunt a venomous snake so I'd always have poison with me," Troll answered.
"Why did I even ask?" Vitel muttered.
"Well, like Kilay said, let's not worry about it now. Let's rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day," Neale concluded.
The night before the test seemed to grow longer with every passing minute. Neale could barely sleep through it, waking several times. He sat near the steps of the training arena for Group Twelve, his mother's torn overcoat tied around his waist. He remembered Helyara's happy face as she hugged his father, the sunset preventing him from seeing their features clearly. He remembered the promise he made over his parents' blood on the night of his sixteenth birthday—almost a month ago now.
I will avenge your deaths. I will grow stronger, and then I'll crush the Absolute Races and make them pay for taking you from me.
He was already there, taking his first steps toward that goal.
At dawn, the sound of war horns echoed throughout the city of Kirden, announcing the start of the second stage of the trials. Group Twelve marched out of the dormitory. On the way, they crossed paths with Group One. Julian appeared to be their leader—and not just because of his ability. The white aura present in his catalyst was still being absorbed, indicating he couldn't yet generate his own Justa Wrath and still depended on the object. But he seemed to be absorbing it gradually. It was a blatant display of power.
He stopped near Neale with a mocking smile playing on his lips.
"Still here, Sanchez?" Julian whispered as he passed by. "When you step into the arena, savor the moment—your last moments in Kirden. And make it something really ugly to watch from the stands. That way, when one of you—any of you—becomes a student at Kidernia Academy, I'll enjoy stepping on you even more than I normally would."
Neale and the rest of Group Twelve didn't respond with words. They simply held his gaze, cold and steady, as if looking at an insignificant child—though it was also the look of people restraining themselves from smashing that rich kid's face against the wall. Julian hesitated when he noticed, quickly stepping away. There was something in their eyes—especially Neale's—that weighed down the very air: hatred, rage, control. A mixture. A piece of an abyss Julian would never understand—products of war he had never had to face.
All the groups were led to the arena stands, reserved exclusively for them, directly facing the high-ranking officials and the representatives and heads of every House of the Order.
The instructor—the same cold-eyed man—stood at the perfect spot in the arena, visible to all.
"Attention!" his voice thundered. "The first stage eliminated half the participants—from a total of twenty groups in the morning session alone, not counting the stages held in other shifts. That leaves the ten strongest groups from the night session of the novices. The first stage tested the will of each of you present today, exactly as it does every year. The second stage will take place today, and after everyone completes it, we will proceed directly to the third and final stage before these novices become true students of our academy."
He paused briefly, scanning everyone in silence.
"The second stage has already been decided by vote. But first, we will announce and draw the first group to begin." A long silence filled the arena as the group was randomly selected before everyone's eyes. "Group… Twelve. You will be the first to begin the second stage. The rules are as follows: Group Twelve will fight among yourselves, one-on-one, until your group is reduced to five members. The winners advance. The losers will be expelled. You have one minute to decide who the first two fighters will be here in the arena. Choose your matchups… Timer starts… now. Be quick."