The doors to the combat arena open like a mouth waiting to swallow us whole.
Nova-1 files in, everyone buzzing quietly with excitement and nerves. Sparks dance from fingers, wind whistles around the room, and a few students are hovering inches above the ground.
Taiyashè bumps my shoulder. "Ready?"
I nod, keeping my hands tucked in my jacket pockets. Fire flickers faintly in my palm. Controlled. Nothing more.
At the front of the arena, Elias Crowe stands, arms folded, expression calm. The Shadow Field subtly pulses around him. Every student feels it.
"Nova-1," Crowe begins. His voice cuts through the hum of energy like a blade. "Today, you will prove why you were chosen. Or why you weren't."
A few students stiffen at that. I can feel the tension wrapping around the room like a physical force.
"This is not a friendly demonstration. You will push yourselves. You will strategize. You will survive. If you fail… Astra is not the place for you."
He gestures toward the field. Half of it is open ground. The other half is cluttered with obstacles — walls, platforms, suspended beams, and small floating devices radiating weak energy fields.
"Your goal is simple," Crowe says. "Reach the far end. First to cross proves skill. Last… proves weakness. Understand?"
The class murmurs. Everyone looks around. The fear is palpable.
I glance at Taiyashè. His grin is gone. "May the best hero win," he says softly.
I nod. "Yeah."
Crowe's gaze sweeps over the class. He pauses on me, just long enough to make my stomach tighten. Then, almost casually, he says:
"Begin."
Chaos erupts.
Sparks, winds, threads of ice, blasts of kinetic energy — everyone bursts forward. Students leap over obstacles, fire flares, wind propels, ice forms bridges.
I tuck my fire safely inside my jacket, careful not to draw attention. My hands itch to use the other thing — the body control I barely understand. But Crowe's eyes… if he notices, there's no telling what he'd do.
I push myself harder. Jump. Duck. Run. But the obstacles are tricky. My foot slips on a swinging beam. My hands scrape against the surface. Fire flares out accidentally, small but noticeable.
I stumble. Someone bumps me slightly. I lose balance again.
The far platform is close, but not close enough. I scramble. My legs burn. My arms shake. I fall short.
Taiyashè reaches the platform, then looks back in alarm. "Ren!"
Crowe's eyes lock on me. I brace for disappointment, failure, maybe expulsion.
He doesn't move. Doesn't speak. The Shadow Field pulse lingers faintly.
Then… he steps forward, voice calm, almost bored.
"You failed," he says. The room goes still. "You did not cross first. You struggled."
My chest tightens. My stomach drops.
"However…" Crowe's gaze sweeps across the class. "…I was not serious."
Confusion ripples through the room.
"I did not expect perfection. Your place here is not determined by a single run. Some of you will learn. Some will falter. Some will adapt. But Nova-1 is about observation. Discipline. Potential. And, Ren Calder…"
He pauses, eyes narrowing slightly, just enough to make me uneasy. "…you have potential worth noting. Sit down. You remain in this class."
Relief crashes over me, but it's sharp and cold.
Taiyashè claps me on the shoulder. "Not bad, Ren. You didn't fall behind… too badly."
I nod, still panting. Crowe steps back to the front, shadow energy pulsing faintly again, observing silently.
I realize then: He doesn't just want to see who's fast. He wants to see how we react under pressure. How we handle failure. How we… survive judgment.
And somewhere deep in my mind, the other thing — my latent power — hums quietly. Waiting. Observing.
Waiting for a moment I don't even know is coming.