The day after Principal Leonel announced the tournament's return, Lionel Academy felt strangely alive again.
Not loud.
Not chaotic.
But buzzing with the kind of restless energy only anxious hero students could generate.
The Hero Department's training yards were officially closed for full-contact sparring until the restart…
Which meant, naturally—
Every student just *happened* to gather there anyway.
◆ ◆ ◆
Raze Arcwell sat on a bench near the shade of a training pillar, quietly munching on an energy bar and pretending not to hear the chaos brewing behind him.
Roger flexed aggressively.
"Bro, I'm telling you—my uppercut is at least **20% faster** this week."
Bam scoffed.
"Your uppercut is so slow, a turtle using crutches could dodge it."
Roger gasped, offended.
"Did you just—?! A TURTLE!? WATCH ME—UPP—"
Raze didn't even look.
He simply extended his practice baton backward like a sword being drawn…
**thunk**
The baton blocked Roger's fist perfectly.
"Roger," Raze said calmly, still chewing.
"We're not getting expelled one day before the tournament resumes."
Roger froze, then collapsed onto the grass dramatically.
"My freedom! My training arc!"
Raze sighed.
◆ ◆ ◆
Nearby, Rain stood in quiet contrast to the chaos.
Soft water spheres hovered around her palms, spinning in delicate, fluid harmony.
A soft breeze rustled her hair.
Astra floated above the field, legs crossed mid-air as if she were lounging on an invisible sofa. She glanced down and sighed fondly.
"You all look… chaotic."
"We're training" Bam insisted proudly.
"No," Astra corrected, "you're arguing."
Roger raised a finger from the ground.
"It was tactical arguing…"
Raze stood up.
"Fine. Let's actually train.
Light drills only—nothing extreme."
Everyone cheered.
Raze instantly regretted it.
Because Astra landed beside him with a bright smile.
"Okay! Pair training! Raze and I are partners!"
Roger collapsed to his knees, screaming:
"NOOOOOOO—SHE STOLE HIM AGAAAAIN!"
And then—
A cold, calmly intimidating voice cut through the field:
"Training pairs are assigned by the supervising instructor.
Not by whoever shouts first."
Everyone turned.
*Luna Arcwell* stood at the edge of the yard—
arms crossed, clipboard in hand, wearing the black-and-white uniform of a Combat Assistant Instructor.
As part of the academy staff, she had authority over all first-year training sessions.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Astra," she said, "you're strong, but you don't get to claim my brother like a prize."
Astra turned pink.
"I—I just wanted proper training!"
"You want my brother."
"That's different!"
"It is not!"
Raze rubbed his forehead.
He was starting to think the actual tournament would be less exhausting than these two.
◆ ◆ ◆
Despite the dramatic start, the training session flowed peacefully.
Astra helped Raze refine footwork.
Rain practiced fine control with gentle focus.
Roger and Bam attempted drills and argued about who cheated more.
Luna supervised with her usual strict but reliable authority—correcting form, warning troublemakers, and occasionally smacking Roger with her clipboard.
The sun was warm.
The laughter was loud.
And the tension of the past few days finally eased.
For a moment—
The world felt normal again.
No Nightveil.
No fear.
No dread.
Just friends.
Just training.
Just a day before battle.
And Raze realized quietly:
Whatever storms were coming…
He wasn't facing them alone.