The academy training ground was already loud when Artyom arrived.
Students filled the massive outdoor field, some stretching, some sparring, others watching from the sidelines like predators waiting for entertainment. The cold morning air carried the sharp sound of fists hitting practice mats.
Artyom walked beside Mikhail silently.
The paper with Alexei Morozov's name still burned in his mind.
But he pushed the thought aside.
Right now, survival in the academy mattered more.
A whistle suddenly cut through the noise.
Everyone immediately straightened.
The training instructor stepped forward — Roman Sokolov.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Cold dark eyes.
The same man who had been asking questions about the Morozov name.
Artyom's chest tightened slightly.
Roman scanned the students slowly, his gaze sharp like a blade. When his eyes landed on Artyom, they stayed there for a second longer than necessary.
Interesting.
"Today," Roman announced, his voice calm but powerful, "we test strength."
A murmur spread across the students.
Roman continued.
"Combat pairs."
Now the murmuring turned into excitement.
Students loved these days.
Broken bones weren't uncommon.
Roman began calling names.
"Sergei and Anton."
"Lena and Viktor."
One by one students stepped forward into the fighting ring.
Then—
"Artyom."
The field went quiet for a moment.
Roman's eyes locked on him.
"You'll fight… Nikolai Sokolov."
A tall boy stepped forward from the opposite side of the field. He had the same dark hair as Roman and the same sharp expression.
Of course.
A Sokolov.
Mikhail leaned slightly toward Artyom.
"They're testing you," he whispered.
Artyom already knew.
He stepped into the ring.
Students gathered around instantly, sensing drama.
Nikolai cracked his knuckles.
"You're the new one everyone's talking about."
Artyom stayed silent.
Nikolai smirked.
"Let's see if the rumors are true."
The whistle blew.
Nikolai attacked first.
Fast.
His fist shot toward Artyom's face, but Artyom leaned back just enough for it to miss. Gasps came from the watching students.
Nikolai attacked again.
Kick.
Punch.
Elbow.
Artyom blocked two, dodged one, then countered with a sharp strike to Nikolai's ribs.
The impact echoed.
Nikolai stumbled back slightly.
The crowd reacted instantly.
"OHH—!"
Nikolai's expression darkened.
"Lucky hit."
He charged again.
This time the fight turned brutal.
Fists collided.
Footsteps scraped against the dirt.
Artyom moved like instinct was guiding him.
And that's when Roman noticed something.
The fighting style.
The movements.
They were familiar.
Very familiar.
Roman's eyes narrowed.
Morozov.
Back in the ring, Nikolai lunged forward again.
Artyom sidestepped and slammed him into the ground.
The entire field went silent.
Nikolai lay there, stunned.
Artyom stepped back calmly.
Roman blew the whistle.
"Enough."
Students began whispering loudly now.
Artyom had just defeated a Sokolov.
Roman stepped closer to the ring, his gaze cold and calculating.
"Interesting," he said quietly.
Very interesting.
Because now he was almost certain.
The boy standing in front of him…
Was not just another student.