After Rosalin's match, whatever polite illusion had once veiled this session as a joint training exercise dissolved completely. Whatever civility remained now rang hollow, trampled by the boots of Class A.
The matches that followed could no longer be mistaken for lessons. Each round unfolded with a kind of cold inevitability, less like competition and more like a ritualistic display of power.
If this stage had once been designed as a platform for mutual growth, then Class A had redrawn its purpose entirely, turning it into a tribunal of dominance where mercy held no jurisdiction.
Seventh matches in total, including Rosalin's match.
Seventh trios of Class E scholars marched forward, walking into something they could not win. And waiting for them, stood the next carefully chosen blade from Class A.
There were no bows exchanged before battle.
No encouragement passed from one side to another.
