Morning light bled through the clouds, touching the empty combat field with gold.
Jiwoo's breath came steady — in, out — as he swung his wooden sword through the crisp air.
Each motion was precise. No wasted movement.
The echo of his strikes cut through the silence, rhythmic and controlled.
He paused only long enough to wipe sweat from his brow before resetting his stance.
The duel with Kang Jisoo still played in his head — the way the strikes connected, the sound of wood clashing, the flicker of something inside him that even he couldn't name.
He'd been chasing that feeling ever since.
From the edge of the field, Instructor Baek watched quietly, arms folded.
The faintest smirk tugged at his lips.
"Good. He's learning how to feel the fight, not force it,"
he muttered under his breath before turning away.
He didn't need to correct Jiwoo anymore. The kid was starting to understand instinct — the difference between moving and knowing when to move.
Later that morning, the training field was crowded again.
Students were pushing themselves harder than usual — everyone aware that next week, only six names would matter.
Minjae was sprawled on the ground, groaning dramatically.
"Why do we even need stamina training for a duel? I don't remember seeing anyone win by jogging!"
Rina, walking past, rolled her eyes and summoned a flickering sphere of lightning above her palm.
"If your mana control's as weak as your excuses, you'll collapse before the fight even starts."
Minjae pointed weakly at her.
"See, this is why I don't talk to elemental users before lunch. You people radiate danger."
A few nearby students laughed. Even Rina cracked a small smile before turning back to her drills.
Hours later, the academy buzzed with the sound of mana devices whirring, sparring blades clashing, and heated bursts of energy lighting the air.
Across the campus, every potential candidate trained until exhaustion.
***
Jiwon, in the private training hall, moved with the grace of a professional duelist. Every swing of her sword was surgical — clean and precise. Her mana flared, then stilled, obeying her completely.
"Too slow," she murmured to herself, resetting her stance.
***
Kang Jisoo, shirt damp with sweat, struck at multiple training dummies until his blade snapped in half.
He stared at the broken weapon, his jaw tight.
"Still not enough…"
***
Rina, near the mana field, sat cross-legged with faint sparks dancing along her arms.
Lightning arced between her fingertips, the air around her crackling softly.
She exhaled, steadying the current until the sparks faded into silence.
"Faster than yesterday," she muttered with a small grin, eyes flashing with confidence.
***
In one of the academy's private training chambers, faint heat shimmered above polished marble floors. Rings of crimson mana floated lazily around Kang Hyunwoo, their glow casting warm flickers against his calm, golden eyes.
He stood at the center, one hand in his pocket, the other drawing idle arcs through the air. With each motion, threads of flame gathered — twisting, coiling — until they formed a perfectly contained fireball that pulsed like a living ember in his palm.
He wasn't training. If anything, he looked bored.
A nearby assistant checked the mana gauge, eyes widening. "Hyunwoo… you're burning through the regulator again. The temperature's past safety levels."
Hyunwoo snapped his fingers. The fireball vanished with a soft hiss of smoke.
"Then build a better regulator," he said.
The assistant groaned. "You know it doesn't work like that."
Hyunwoo smirked faintly. "Neither does pretending someone here can match me."
He turned for the exit, trails of red-gold sparks following each lazy step.
"Wake me up," he said, pushing the chamber door open, "when there's actually someone worth burning mana on."
***
That evening, the training hall was quieter.
Jiwoo stayed late again, repeating drills under the fading glow of the ceiling lights.
His body ached, but his mind refused to rest.
The door slid open softly.
"Instructor Soomin," Jiwoo said without looking up.
Soomin stepped inside, clipboard in one hand, her heels clicking lightly on the floor.
"You're still here," she said, smiling faintly. "You've been here every night this week."
"I like quiet places," Jiwoo answered, lowering his sword.
"So I've noticed."
She studied him for a moment. "You're pushing yourself harder than most. Nervous about the selection?"
Jiwoo shook his head. "Not nervous. Just… don't want to fall behind."
Soomin crossed her arms, leaning slightly against the wall.
"Because of your sister?"
He paused. "Maybe. Or maybe because I don't want to be someone people look down on anymore."
For a long moment, Soomin didn't say anything. Then she smiled, warm and a little sad.
"Then don't chase her shadow, Jiwoo. Make your own."
Jiwoo's grip on the sword tightened slightly.
"…I'll try."
"Good."
Soomin turned toward the door but stopped before leaving. "Don't burn yourself out before the real fun starts. I'd hate to see Baek lose his favorite student before the selection even begins."
Jiwoo blinked. "Favorite?"
She grinned. "Don't let it get to your head."
Then she waved lazily as she walked off. "See you next week, Baek's prodigy."
The door closed behind her, leaving Jiwoo standing there with a small, helpless sigh.
"Favorite student, huh…"
He shook his head, picking up his training sword again.
"Pretty sure he'd kill me if he heard that."
***
The faculty lounge later that night was alive again with voices.
Baek sat with a mug of coffee, flipping through duel rosters.
"So the top brackets are set, huh," he said casually. "Looks messy."
Soomin leaned over his shoulder. "Messy or interesting?"
Baek's grin returned. "Both."
Across the room, Instructor Sanghoon was arguing with Hyerim again about how "the elemental division was obviously superior," while Hyerim countered that "without supports, they'd all faint halfway through."
Even Kain's entrance barely stopped them.
The headmaster simply raised an eyebrow and poured himself tea.
"I see everyone's preparing diligently," he said dryly.
The laughter that followed broke the tension.
Baek looked at the board one more time — Jiwoo's name glowing faintly near the bottom bracket.
"He's ready," Baek murmured.
Kain glanced at him, quiet amusement in his eyes.
"Then let's see if the rest of them are."
Outside, the academy lights flickered against the dusk.
Jiwoo stood on the field again, the air cool and still.
He raised his wooden sword one last time for the night.
One strike.
Two.
Three.
Each swing was sharper than the last — the mark of someone who didn't want to be average anymore.
"Next week," Jiwoo whispered, his breath misting in the cold air.
"I'll show them."