A week had passed since the expedition returned. The Aeterna Academy was transformed. The air, once charged with studious apprehension, now vibrated with a palpable competitive tension. The looks between students were no longer those of comrades, but of rivals assessing their respective strengths. The ranking, displayed in real time on giant screens in each corridor, had become the alpha and omega of their existence.
Duels in the arena had resumed with new frequency and intensity. The sound of powers colliding and weapons echoing against energy shields had become the academy's soundtrack. Illegal bets were circulating on the outcome of the fighting. The students watched each other, taking mental notes on each other's techniques and weaknesses.
But an invisible line had not yet been crossed. No one had challenged the top ten in the rankings. They were treated with a mixture of respect, fear and jealousy. Their performance on the expedition, their superior level and their already better equipment put them in a league of their own.
Hakime, in particular, was a constant focus. Being number one with only level 7 was an anomaly that sparked all theories. Some respected him for his decisive move against King Goblin, others whispered that he had been lucky, or worse, that he had stolen the kill from Loïd. He felt the eyes weighing on him, but he remained focused. He used every free minute to practice, aware that his lead in the standings was fragile and that his path to the next level would be long.
His statistics, gained at level 7, had been wisely distributed: even more willingness to control his light, and an investment in Agility to compensate for his relative slowness against opponents like Arthur. He spent hours in the control room, perfecting his Aegis of Light and seeking to unlock the next evolution of his power.
Loïd was ruminating. The third place was an insult to him. He trained with destructive fury, pushing his fire to dangerous limits. He had reached level 10, but each subsequent level would be even more difficult to achieve. His bruised pride led him to defy Hakime, but a cold logic prevented him from doing so. Losing to him would be catastrophic. He had to first consolidate his position, crush the other suitors, and wait for the perfect moment.
It was in this atmosphere of nascent competition that the first indirect challenges emerged. If we didn't dare to attack the top ten, we would attack those around them. The idea was simple: weaken their support, isolate them, and perhaps cause them to make a mistake.
One afternoon, as Hakime's team was leaving the library, a group of students intercepted them in a corridor. They were led by a boy named Ren, ranked 9th, a C-rank awakened man who specializes in vibrational attacks. His gaze was fixed on Arthur, ranked 5th.
"Leclerc," Ren said with a smile in his face. "You took advantage of your boss's proximity to rise so high. But are you really in the top five? I think not. I challenge you. Tomorrow, in the arena."
Arthur, usually so playful, displayed a much more dangerous smile. The weeks of training and the battle against the tide had turned his energy into a sharp confidence.
"Would you like to test whether my place is deserved, Ren? All right. Don't cry when you lose."
The challenge was launched. It would not be a fight against one of the top ten, but against one of their closest allies. Everyone understood the underlying meaning: it was a test. If Arthur fell, the credibility of Hakime's entire group would take a hit. The pressure was mounting a notch.