"Line up. Here."
Pavel pointed to a spot near the stands while the instructors and elite students took their seats.
Aside from Christina and Clyde, three other elites were present.
I scanned our line and noticed something else.
Besides Torent and me, three more students were wearing distinction badges.
Five out of fifteen.
Five of us hadn't earned our place here.
We'd been chosen.
The other ten had.
Something twisted in my chest.
Would I even be standing here if not for Silius?
Could I actually stand beside them?
I already knew the answer.
Matthew was stronger than me.
Better. More capable.
No matter what he said.
I'd just gotten lucky.
Collected more badges.
That was it.
"You have all proven yourselves worthy defenders," Gordinstreet began.
"I am proud that this year, your number exceeds all previous ones. That speaks to your talent and your discipline."
"And this time, we have far more students who have already been chosen as personal bodyguards."
Her gaze moved slowly across us.
Lingering.
Especially on the badges.
"You should be twice as proud."
"Very few are given such an honor."
"So I congratulate you."
A pause.
"We believe in you."
"Show them what this academy is capable of."
"Fight like your life depends on it."
Another pause.
Longer.
"Because it does."
"Your future."
"And the future of this academy."
She stepped aside.
Pavel moved forward immediately.
No pause. No ceremony.
The director took her seat beside Miror, who looked like she was somewhere else entirely.
"As Director Gordinstreet said, you have been chosen," Pavel began.
"And you are expected to give everything you have."
"To defend this academy's honor."
"And to carve your place into the future."
"Those of you not yet selected as personal bodyguards will receive offers."
"Choose carefully."
"Those of you who have already been chosen…"
His gaze sharpened.
"…will be judged twice as harshly."
"You carry responsibility."
"For your employer's reputation."
"Their status."
"Their safety."
"And their life."
"Prove they were not wrong to choose you."
"Prove this academy stands above the rest."
His voice rose slightly.
Not emotion.
Intent.
He wanted us to win.
Why?
What did the academy gain from victory?
How was victory even decided?
"Now," Pavel said. "The rules."
A pause.
"There are none."
A ripple ran through the line.
"Your objective is simple."
"Put your opponent down."
"So they don't get back up."
"And if someone dies?" Matthew asked.
Pavel didn't hesitate.
"Then they die."
A beat.
"It does not violate anything."
Silence.
From the stands, I felt it.
A stare.
Sharp. Burning.
I didn't turn.
I already knew.
Andrew.
He'd hated this from the beginning.
And still, he couldn't stop it.
"You are exempt from mandatory classes," Pavel continued.
"And from your employers' assignments."
"Until the fights are over."
"You may use that time however you want."
A pause.
"I suggest training."
"Focus on your weaknesses."
Questions.
Too many.
None I could shape into words.
Robert spoke first.
"How many academies are involved?"
"In this region, three," Pavel replied.
"Not counting private or family-run institutions. There are around eight of those."
"They rarely send participants."
"But they may attend."
"How does training differ between academies?" the large student beside me asked.
"Our purpose is the same," Pavel said.
"To protect the aristocracy."
"To eliminate non-human threats."
"Methods differ."
"As long as they stay within legal limits."
Vague.
Deliberately.
"Can you be more specific?" the student pressed.
"No."
Flat. Immediate.
"No academy is required to disclose its methods."
"The same applies to assets."
"And developments."
"We may stand on the same side."
"But we are still competitors."
"Then how are we supposed to prepare if we don't know what we're facing?" the only girl in our line asked, her golden badge catching the light.
"Amelia," Pavel said, "do hostile entities explain their abilities before attacking?"
"…No."
"Then don't ask pointless questions."
"These are not demonstrations."
"This is training."
"Harsh training."
"Your objective is survival."
"How often do people die?" I asked.
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Pavel looked at me.
"Enough," he said, "that you should already be worried."
Silence dropped.
Heavy.
After a moment, he continued.
"One month from today."
"May twenty-fifth."
"Six forty a.m."
"You will assemble at the northern gates."
"Phones allowed."
"Casual clothing."
"No luggage."
"Understood?"
"Yes."
In unison.
But I could see it on every face.
Questions.
Unasked.
We'd been told almost nothing.
Except one thing.
We could die.
"You are dismissed."
"Report to your instructors."
He turned.
Waited for the director.
Then they left.
Leaving us behind.
With the teachers.
We scattered.
Everyone moving at once, trying to decide who to go to first.
Most of us had more than one instructor.
Some teachers handled multiple students.
It turned into chaos.
Meanwhile, the instructors and elites just watched.
Didn't interfere.
"Maybe we should set individual sessions?" Matthew finally said. "This isn't getting us anywhere."
"Storik," Miror called lazily, like she'd just woken up, "you owe me a bottle. I told you he wouldn't be the first."
I frowned, but Iveson's rough voice cut in.
"Good suggestion," he said. "Vauzer's right."
"We'll assign individual sessions today."
"You'll be notified."
"You're dismissed."
I wanted to ask what that was about.
But the instructors were already deep in discussion.
So I turned toward the dorms.
I needed rest.
Because tomorrow, things were about to get worse.
I was sure of it.