The last day of the two months of intensive training had arrived. The air in the academy was different, charged with an electrical voltage. In a week, the expedition would begin. It was no longer a distant threat, but an imminent reality.
To mark this achievement, Master Rylan organized a final synthesis exercise in the main arena. Students were divided into small teams and faced a series of simultaneous challenges: moving targets, instructor-triggered ground traps, and training "puppets" - rudimentary dummies infused with low etheric energy to move them erratically.
Hakime, Arthur, Conor and Lyra naturally formed a team. It was the first time they had officially combined their skills.
"Plan?" asked Conor, his fists already hardened.
"Arthur as a scout and diversion," ordered Hakime, his voice taking on a new assurance. "Conor, you are our anchor. You hold the line. Lyra and I are covering and focusing targets."
The exercise began in chaos. Arthur burst forth, using his Quickstep to avoid pitfalls and attract the attention of models. Conor was advancing like a rock, absorbing the low-energy projectiles with his Ironskin. Lyra, with surgical precision, made shards of glass appear to break the trap mechanisms or immobilize the targets.
Hakime, on the other hand, was everywhere. He used his spear for nearby targets, and his light for those farthest away. He had learned to save his ether. He no longer projected blinding rays, but thin beams that pierced the vital points of the mannequins. He created small shields of light to protect Arthur in his quick maneuvers or to strengthen Conor's defense on his flanks.
At one point, a group of three models charged Lyra. Before she had time to react, Hakime struck the ground with the tip of her spear, and a flash of light blinding but brief burst, disorienting the models. Lyra took the opportunity to pierce them with long, thin glass needles.
"Acceptable coordination," she commented afterwards, without ceasing to monitor the surrounding area.
On the other side of the arena, Loïd's team crushed everything in its path with brute force. The fire reduced the dummies to ashes and melted the mechanisms. It was effective, but messy and spent on ether. Loïd glanced at Hakime, seeing the synchronized effectiveness of his team.
The exercise ended with a tactical victory for Hakime's team, which had accomplished all its objectives with remarkable savings of resources. Loïd's team had destroyed everything more quickly, but had wasted much more energy.
"Good," said Rylan, as he brought them together. "You've learned the basics. Some have even learned to work together. But remember, there will be no rules there. The monsters won't wait for you to organize."
In the evening, the group found themselves on the rooftops of the academy, a place they had adopted for its calm and view of the city. The energy dome twinkled, and in the distance, one could guess the menacing haze of the Laziness Tower.
"A week," murmured Arthur, more serious than usual. "In seven days, we'll be on the other side of the wall. For real."
"We are ready," said Conor, with his arms folded. "We have followed the training. We know our strengths and weaknesses."
"Knowing your weaknesses doesn't fill them," Lyra retorted, looking at the horizon. "But it helps to compensate for them."
Hakime remained silent, listening to his friends. He looked at his hand, where a small flame of light danced, docile. He thought back to the last two months. From the lost orphan barely mastering a spark, he had become a team leader capable of handling light with deadly precision. He had found allies: Arthur's ardent loyalty, Conor's reliable strength, and Lyra's cold intelligence.
But he also felt the weight of expectations. Loïd's look, full of a burning rivalry. The ghost of his rank SSS, which hovered over him like a sword of Damocles. The expedition would be much more than a test; it would be a revelation. Would his light be strong enough in the face of the real threat? Would his leadership hold up in the face of fear and chaos?
"We will be different afterwards," he finally said, breaking the silence. "Whatever happens there, we will not be the same."
Arthur gave him a pat on the back: "We'll just be stronger, and we'll be together."
"Together," repeated Conor, in a firm voice.
Lyra was content with a nod, her silent agreement worth all the promises.
As they were coming down, Hakime took one last look at the distant mist. The fear was there, tenacious. But she was now surpassed by a cold determination. It had been forged in the fire of the academy. The expedition would be the anvil on which this blade would be drenched. He was ready. They were ready.