The big auditorium buzzed with excitement. Even among the cheering crowd, I could feel the thick air of expectation pressing down on me. Arthur's name floated through the whispered conversations like a wave rolling in.
"They're saying Arthur's the 'Prodigy of Thunder.'"
"Can't believe he's actually here."
"Especially after what they said happened last week? He didn't even get touched!"
Every comment hit me hard. Arthur wasn't present; I was.
And every pair of eyes in the room seemed to compare me to my brother's shadow—a legend they barely knew anything about.
The main instructor stepped up, his loud voice cutting through the chatter.
"Where's Arthur?" he inquired, his tone polite but hinting at discomfort.
Time felt slow. People started fidgeting, and the quiet grew heavy.
All I could hear was my thoughts and what was coming. Finally, I forced myself to act.
As I walked into the auditorium, a heavy silence came down like a weight.
Arthur's name slipped from their lips, murmured among the top recruits, instructors, and even some important guests.
But I couldn't pay attention to those feelings; I had to stay focused. I straightened my shoulders, lifted my chin, and acted confident like it was my shield.
Arthur had taught me this—or at least tried to. "People don't fear strength," he used to say, his storm crystal buzzing lightly as he held it like a beast checking its claws. "They fear certainty. Show them any doubt, and you're done for."
I looked down at the crystal hanging around my neck—a powerful symbol of my brother's strength.
Even though it sparkled faintly, I could almost hear him reminding me, Cal, anyone who thinks they can take you on better be ready to pay the price. Make them think twice.
I played the role perfectly. Every step was deliberate as I walked to the center of the arena, my sword at my hip—defiant and determined.
Arthur's presence always felt larger than life, and I just hoped I was channeling even a little bit of it.
The other recruits stared—some in awe, others confused. Eamon, with his arms crossed, scanning me like a hawk.
Sara gave a small smile—maybe encouragement? But Marcus's gaze lingered longer than I wanted.
"Arthur," the instructor said tightly. "Good to see you're…" he paused, looking for the right word, "…ready."
I nodded shortly. "Let's get this going." Cold and sharp—just like how Arthur would have said it.
The instructor stepped into the middle of the raised arena, turning to face the recruits and the audience.
"This isn't just a simple contest," he began, scanning us to find any weaknesses.
"Today's assessment is about teamwork and strategy. Your goal: take down the elite knight challenger within an hour. Use all the skills you've got.
No lethal force, but remember—failing isn't the worst thing that can happen. And Arthur…"
He paused a moment too long, as if he sensed my nerves. "The academy expects a lot from you."
I nodded but didn't say a word. Arthur would've given him an earful for the hidden jab; instead, I focused on staying grounded.
The instructors moved aside, and the first wave of corrupted energy filled the air. The challenger entered the arena.
She didn't just walk. She strode in like a predator.
The elite knight's presence changed the vibe of the room, her charged aura crackling like a storm about to unleash.
The dark crystal around her neck was vibrant against her skin, its deep red looking almost like spilled blood in the dim light. Her eyes scanned me and narrowed, a slow, wicked smile creeping across her face.
I could almost hear Arthur's calm, dry voice in my mind: Put your opponent's pride on the line.
Those who are taken down by their own arrogance are easier to beat.*
The instructor brought me back to the moment. "You can start now."
The elite knight wasted no time at all. She moved toward us with the movement of a predator, clearly knowing how this would play out.
Her corrupted crystal shimmered ominously, and I had to fight the urge to shiver as its energy pressed down on me. .
.
It wasn't just magic; it felt alive.
The rest around me tensed up.
"Stay sharp," I advised, my tone icy. "She's trying to get under our skin.
Hold off on the first strike unless you're ready to take a hit."
No one moved, but I could sense their uncertainty.
The elite knight let out a soft laugh that rang through the large room like a sword being drawn.
"They say you're 'the prodigy,'" she said, her gaze fixed on me.
There wasn't an ounce of warmth in her eyes—just cold, precise calculations. "Let's see if you bleed like one,"
I didn't take fall for that. Arthur wouldn't have. Instead, I tilted my head slightly and replied evenly.
"Let's find out if you're worth the effort."
Her smile became more forced, but I could tell she was slightly shaken. Arthur had taught me to gain an advantage before any conflict even began.
To him, threats weren't just talk; they were promises, cold and calculated. Anything you say in the first fifteen seconds, Arthur used to say, should make them wish they'd picked a different fight.
After a tense silence, the elite knight sharply moved her wrist, releasing a burst of energy.
The ground split beneath us, and Marcus almost fell before steadying himself. This wasn't meant to harm us—it was a power move. She wanted us to know she controlled the situation.
I turned to Eamon, who was already watching her movements carefully.
"Eamon," I whispered just for him, "circle wide. Feint with fire; don't commit. Make her think you're reckless."
His brow knitted together. "Reckless? That's what we're going for?"
"No, you just need to *look* that way. Trust me."
He shot me a skeptical look but nodded and got into position.
"Marcus," I said next, "keep her off balance. Shift the ground—tile, stone, whatever is around—but do it randomly. Don't give her a pattern."
Marcus nodded tightly, muttering, "Understood."
Finally, I turned to Sara. She seemed hesitant, her light magic dimly flickering in her palm.
"Focus on timing," I told her calmly. "The moment she overreaches, blind her. But don't jump the gun."
"And what about you?" she asked softly, her brows drawn together.
"I'll mess with her rhythm," I replied simply, adjusting the knife at my belt. "No one fights clean when the ground's uneven and they have blind spots."
I turned my attention back to the elite knight, who tilted her head like she was sizing us up. My chest tightened, but I kept my voice steady. "Trust me. She'll crack before we do."
The funny thing about planning is it often feels like the entire weight of the world is on your shoulders, even when you know it's not true.
My instructions weren't as sharp as Arthur's—his plans had more confidence. But I gave them anyway because Callien would have hesitated. Arthur wouldn't have.