It was only two weeks in did the first class about transmutation began. The more experienced ones, meaning all the highborns and very few lowborns, were separated into different lessons from the less experienced ones. They took a test during the first week to determine which class they would attend, and Lycan participated in the former.

Lycan was grouped with the other fire elementalists. They watched him as he summoned flames from his palms, blasting away the straw dummies into ashes. Lycan's flames were like an endless stream coming out of his palms, whereas the others could only shoot balls of fire. The fire elementalist instructor, Professor Bakar, was not amused and signalled the next flame elementalist to take turns with Lycan. Dressed in grey robes, Professor Bakar signalled Lycan to stand next to him.

"You're ahead of everyone else, that's for sure. I would not have expected any less from a Torres. But your flames aren't concentrated enough. You're nothing compared to even the weakest flame elementalists I had fought alongside with. I'll show you what I mean after class," the Professor said, loud enough for the whole courtyard to listen.

"Yes, Bhayangkara," Lycan said stiffly, almost saluting the old man.

Everyone in the group knew who Professor Bakar was, and they feared and respected him for it. To become a Bhayangkara, one needed to be considered the best among their master sorcerers and prove themselves in battle. Any great house would be willing to pay a massive fortune to receive a few minutes of tutelage from a sorcerer deemed no longer worthy of the Bhayangkara title. And Professor Bakar had willingly retired from the Bhayangkara, not considered no longer worthy, thus officially keeping his title.

"I'm not a Bhayangkara anymore, boy," Professor Bakar spat.

Lycan gulped nervously. "I apologize for my mistake, Professor."

"Enough of you," Professor Bakar said, clearly unhappy with Lycan's mistake. "Return to the line."

The other recruits in the group stared at Lycan sympathetically. To say it mildly, not being in the good graces of a Bhayangkara was not fun.

Professor Bakar criticized every student, pointing out their mistakes and what they did wrong. None of the recruits were disheartened, however. Learning from a Bhayangkara was already more than enough of a blessing, and they would willingly accept any form of his critique as blessings. Even the lowborns, who initially had no idea who their Professor was, voluntarily swallowed the vitriol after seeing the reverence the highborn showed to the man.

Professor Bakar only allowed the recruits to rest once blood began to flow down their ears alongside their noses. Lycan was the last to rest and felt he could have easily lost consciousness if his focus had dwindled slightly. After the second round, Professor Bakar brought a thick steel plate to the training grounds and ordered the recruits to try to melt it, but none were successful. The most they could do caused the plate to glow red, which took the effort of all the recruits firing right after one another.

Professor Bakar stood in front of the resting recruits, scowling. "I know what you all want. Especially the highborns," he spat. "To join the Bhayangkara," he continued. "Well, I'm telling you right now that every one of you has a long way to go." He lifted a finger and pointed it at the steel plate. "Observe."

A tiny fireball shot out of the finger, struck the metal plate, and then through it. The recruits watched in awe. The fireball was blue, and they had just witnessed blue flame, which many master sorcerers would find challenging to transmute. Then, two more similar fireballs shot out from the finger again. However, the flames expanded and engulfed the plate this time, melting it into red hot liquid.

"You can keep pushing yourselves to your limits and make your core more efficient. But without improving your technique, you're only going to bottleneck yourselves. Think again if you think you have what it takes," Professor Bakar said and then left.

------------------

The air elementalist's Professor watched as Mataram transmuted tenaga, commanding the air to follow the direction he demanded. The air swerved and blasted the dummy, collapsing it to the ground.

"That's an old technique from the days of the conjuring war," Professor Dara told Mataram. Referencing a time when nations were divided regarding what kind of sorcerer you were. "You manipulate the air around you instead of transmuting your own."

Mataram turned to face the Professor. He was quite proud of himself, he had to admit.

"It's outdated and inefficient," Professor Dara continued, and Mataram's pride sunken. "You're wasting excess tenaga by trying to control what already exists." She went to the courtyard and picked up a small pebble. "Let me demonstrate," she continued, showing a stone between her fingers. "I will throw this rock, and I want you to stop it from hitting you."

Mataram nodded.

Professor Dara took a few steps back from Mataram and waited for him to be prepared. "Ready?" she asked.

"Ready," Mataram nodded.

Professor Dara threw the pebble at Mataram. It was a standard throw without any transmutation. Mataram stretched his hand and tried to command the air to move in the opposite direction but to no avail. He could not control the wind to move fast enough, and the pebble struck lightly on Mataram's shoulder, and he felt blood run down his nose.

"Exactly," Professor Dara said. "It is much easier to cause significant disturbances in a wide area, but you will find it difficult when it comes to needing a concentrated force. Besides, I reckon you'll only be able to do what you did once or twice before exhausting yourself. Am I right?"

Mataram nodded.

"You'll need to change that. You'll never be able to fly properly if you keep that up." Professor Dara lifted her palm to Mataram to demonstrate. "Instead of spreading your tenaga into the air and taking control of it, I want you to directly convert your tenaga into air." A gust of air shot from the Professor's palm at Mataram, dishevelling his hair. "That's it for you today."

Mataram stayed until late in the courtyard where the air elementalists trained. He only left to rest when his exhaustion got to the point where he found it difficult to keep his balance. He needed to be better, far better than everyone else. Mataram promised himself that he would start training earlier and finish the latest from everyone else.

-----------

Mataram screamed underneath the light of dawn as he unleashed his tenaga, redirecting all the surrounding wind to crush the straw dummy. He was beyond frustrated. He had now spent over two months in the Academy and was still unable to generate his own wind. Professor Dara was on the verge of giving up on him, and so did Mataram. He feared that he had gotten too used to using the technique he found from the old scroll in his village and could no longer learn the correct method. All the other air elementalists had begun to fly while Mataram was still learning to create wind.

"Hey, I just cleaned the courtyard," a voice said above him.

Mataram looked up at the voice source and immediately rubbed his dishevelled clothes to make them look proper. "Dean Anders," Mataram said in surprise.

"So you're the source of all those complaints," the old man chuckled, landing in front of Mataram. "Do you know how many cleaners have complained about you? I thought I'd finally check it out for myself."

"I'm sorry for the mess," Mataram muttered. I'll clean it up after."

"As you should," the Dean replied. "What's your name, recruit?" the Dean asked.

"Mataram Rakur," Mataram replied immediately.

"So Mataram," the Dean said. "What's causing you to be so frustrated?"

Mataram seized the opportunity immediately. He had seen what Dean Anders could do, and any advice the Dean could give would be useful. "I can't seem to generate my own air," Mataram said. "I just can't seem to transmute the tenaga into wind." Mataram said, stretching out his palm and showing that nothing had happened.

"Ahh," the Dean said thoughtfully. "You're using the old way, I assume."

"Yes," Mataram concurred. "It is inefficient and won't allow me to fly."

Dean Anders chuckled. "You're Instructor is right that the old way is inefficient, but it doesn't mean you can't fly. Watch." The Dean's whole body remained standing still, showing that he was not generating any air, and his body began to rise. After a moment, the Dean began to zoom around the courtyard before landing back where he once stood.

Mataram watched in awe. The Dean's control was terrific, and Mataram had not even considered the amount of tenaga the Dean had used.

"You used the old way too!" Mataram exclaimed.

"Only started learning it a few decades ago," the old Dean admitted. "It is inefficient, after all."

"Then why did you learn it?"

The Dean smiled. "Watch my arms, Mataram."

Mataram watched the Dean's arms resting at his side. They did not move at all. "They're disabled," Mataram said.

"Correct."

Mataram watched the Dean in surprise and admiration. "But why did you not get them cut off for prosthetics. You could be a lightning sorcerer."

The Dean laughed harder. "Not the first question I would expect from you. Nonetheless, I enjoy flying, you see. And I was a Captain of a squad in the air force. If I became a lightning sorcerer, I would lose my ability to fly. And I was not willing to abandon my knights at the time."

"But isn't it wasteful? How are you able to last in a fight without exhausting yourself?"

"Power stones, help," the Dean admitted. "But you see, the old way also comes with its advantages. For once, you don't need to move your limbs to command the wind; thus, your enemies would never know what to expect." The Dean commanded the wind to lift his right arm and stretch out his fingers. His palm pointed in the opposite direction of Mataram, but then a gust of wind blasted straight at Mataram's face. "See," the Dean smiled. "I may not be able to fly for long, but I still have my uses."

"Wow," Mataram muttered. "Do you think the Bhayangkara will accept an air elementalists that could only use the old way?" he asked.

The Dean's smile wavered slightly. "The Bhayangkara will accept anyone, whoever they deem worthy. I assume you wish to join them and become the chosen one?"

Mataram nodded determinedly.

The Dean's smile turned melancholic now. "Have you touched one of the golden spheres recently?" he asked.

"No," Mataram said. "The last time I touched it was the day I arrived in the academy."

"Touch it again when you pass it by," the Dean said. "Sometimes we get so clouded by the thought of glory that we forget what we are fighting for." The Dean looked up to the sky, recalling the past.

"I'm fighting for humanity," Mataram said, a little irritated, feeling that his goal was being questioned.

The Dean just nodded. "I pity whoever becomes the chosen one," he said, still looking above, seemingly forgetting that Mataram was there. "They'll live a lonely life."

---------------------

Lycan slugged through the now dark corridors of his flat. He had taken his shirt off, using it as a towel to wipe the blood off his face from his earlier training. He had not expected anyone to be awake at this late in the night, so to say he was surprised to see Adriani in the common room was an understatement. Lycan had gotten to know Adriani better in the past four months and knew that the Anishi clung to pieces of texts like treasure. Lycan had barely seen the Anishi train and wondered if the man truly wanted to be a Bhayangkara.

"Hey," Lycan waved at Adriani, who was in deep reading.

Adriani looked up in surprise and maybe almost irritated at being disturbed, but smiled when he saw that it was Lycan. "Hey, Lycan. Have you had dinner yet?"

Lycan raised his eyebrows at Adriani. "You do know dinner time passed a few hours ago?"

Adriani raised his brows too before furrowing them. He got up from his seat and turned to face the window. "Oh dear," he muttered. "Not again."

Adriani covered his face with his hands, and that was when Lycan noticed the scratch marks on the back of the man's shaven head.

Lycan chuckled lightly. "I'm going to wash and head to bed. See you tomorrow." He was about to open the door to his room before Adriani stopped him.

"Hold on," Adriani said.

"Yes?" Lycan asked.

"I know you train a lot, Lycan, and I have a friend who's quite similar and could use a proper training partner."

"Let me guess, they're one of the lowborn recruits you teach often," Lycan muttered, waving the idea away. He was not opposed to teaching others but could not waste time helping others when he still had a long way to go.

"Don't worry," Adriani replied. "I'm willing to guarantee that it will also be beneficial to you. My friend is good," he added. "Considered one of the

best among the air elementalists."

Lycan snorted. "Aren't you already training with him? Why do you need me?"

"I've been teaching them more than anything else," Adriani yawned.

"Catching them up to all the weapon training we had. Besides, I'm an augmenter, and there's not much sparring I can do with an air elementalists without outright taking them out."

"Sorry, Adriani. But I'm just not interested."

"All right, then," Adriani sighed. "See you tomorrow."

Lycan waved goodbye before entering his room, where he found a letter waiting for him on his floor. He picked up the letter and opened it immediately once he recognized the stamp of his family's symbol. He tore open the envelope, tossing the letter from his parents to the side for later and unfolding the one from his brother. The letter was a bunch of rough sketches as Rama could not read or write. Lycan tried his best but could not understand what his brother was trying to convey to him. But he recognized the shape of a heart at the top right corner of the paper, which was all Lycan needed.

Lycan knew instantly what it meant and that Rama definitely drew it. Their parents could try to forge a letter, but even the most expert forger would not know where to begin. Sometimes, Lycan wished he was home to care for Rama. Their parents were unwilling to spend any money to educate their disabled son, and thus, Lycan spent most of his spare time trying to teach his brother whatever he had learned.

Lycan rested on his bed and thought of his brother, the letter resting on his chest. Lycan did not take long to get up and place the letter on his desk. He opened his bedroom door and called out to Adriani. "Adriani," he said.

Adriani, who was still in his seat, rummaging through his scrolls, looked up at Lycan.

"I change my mind."

-------------

Mataram scoured through the books Adriani had listed for him. Mataram had accepted that he would not learn to create wind with the time he had left. Adriani had tried his best to help but lacked the knowledge of an air elementalist. Instead, he had suggested a few older academic journals for Mataram to look through by renowned air elementalists.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

But Mataram was running out of time. He had been in the Academy for nearly eight months and expected the annual tournament to be announced soon. Mataram's new training partners, Lycan Torress and Adriani, had told him so. They said that their family had connections to the Academy's higher-ups.

'How lucky,' Mataram thought. 'To be born a highborn.' Mataram slammed the book shut, frustrated by his thoughts and the absolute uselessness of the book he was reading. He received a bunch of stares from the people nearby, but he had not hit loud enough for the people around to complain. Mataram opened the next book on his desk and began reading again. The current book was different; Instead of writing about how great a sorcerer they were, the author went into great detail about their battles.

The champion the King of Lakor had chosen to face me was a cautious one. I could tell almost instantly that she was a flame elementalist from the slight touching of her thumb and middle finger, ready to snap flames into life. I stood still as my adversary moved in circles around me. To others who witnessed the duel, it may seem as if I was somewhat toying with my opponent. But that was a mistake I had sworn never to repeat.

I slowly spread my tenaga around my vicinity, trying to feel where the flame would be summoned. Just before my opponent summoned her flames, I felt the acceleration of the air from my right, the acceleration that air goes through when a superheated flame is close by. I dispersed the air behind me, creating a layer where air did not exist. Her blue flame extinguished when it tried to pass the vacuum I had made. Caught surprised, my adversary did not react to the knife I had thrown at her face. As she fell lifelessly, blade still stuck in her forehead, the kingdom of Lakor surrendered and bowed to the rule of our great Akar Empire.

Mataram sighed. He had heard of the concept of creating a vacuum. It was helpful in a minor duel, especially against a flame elementalist, but it was borderline useless in a large-scale battle. On the bright side, the author's technique was similar to Mataram's. 'At least it wasn't totally useless,' Mataram thought.

Lycan pushed himself harder, transmuting more and more tenaga every second. He took Professor Bakar's advice and tried to concentrate his flame more and more. His efforts had not been fruitful, and the orange fire remained orange. Failure had not and will not stop him from trying again until he succeeds, but the feeling of crusted blood running down the side of his face and onto the bottom of his chin would. Lycan cursed himself as his vision began to spin. He was running out of time. The tournament would start as soon as the Dean announced it the day after tomorrow. At least he would have a capable sparring partner tomorrow, Lycan sighed.

At the next day's dawn, Lycan found himself in the same training courtyard where he had trained the previous night. His training partner, Mataram, arrived a few minutes before Lycan arrived. They both stood across each other, waiting for the signal to begin. A leaf was slowly swaying through the air between them, slowly heading to the ground. As soon as the leaf touched the gravel below, their duel began.

Mataram dashed straight at Lycan, one hand already holding a training sword and one open palm aimed at Lycan's face. Lycan fired a pillar of flame at Mataram before his eyes could dry out further. It was a trick Mataram had used on Lycan often, and only due to experience had Lycan found the best way to stop it. However, just because Lycan knew how does not mean it was easy. Mataram dispersed the first volley of fire before dodging sidewards. He had been practising that technique often, slowly becoming better at it.

But Lycan knew Mataram's weakness and transmuted five lashes of fire, aiming them at Mataram. Mataram dodged and shielded himself from the flames and kept coming. Lycan transmuted more tenaga, calling more and more fire. One finally snuck through Mataram's defence, hitting his left shoulder. Mataram fell to the floor and grunted. "Damn it!" he cursed with a bloody nose.

Lycan panted, trying to regain control of his spinning vision. "You did well," he replied, feeling his nose for blood and finding none. "Only beat you due to my more efficient core."

Mataram grunted on the ground, a hand on his burnt shoulder. He sighed. "Do you know what the tournament will be about?" Mataram asked. "I don't fancy my chances in a duel against any of the highborns." He opened and closed his free palm.

"I would not worry too much about that," Lycan replied. "It rarely comes down to straight-up duel. The last one had a team competition, and the one before was on strategy. I doubt there would be a duel as everyone knows that would only favour the highborns, and the empire values thinking and fighting equally."

Mataram closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly. Then he suddenly screamed to no one in particular. "Fuck this!"

"Hey," Lycan tried to say.

"Shut up!" Mataram cut Lycan off. "You know how lucky you are to be highborn? You have teachers, mentors, and resources I could only dream of! And on top of that, you have parents who are master sorcerers who could probably teach you themselves. And all I had was an old scroll that is bottlenecking me."

Lycan only watched and lifted an eyebrow.

After a moment of silence, as he felt his frustration dissipate, Mataram apologized. "Sorry, and I didn't mean to target it at you."

"I hear you," Lycan said, closing his eyes. "I may not get what it feels like, but I hear you." Lycan opened his eyes. "But my life isn't all easy either. You didn't have your youth snatched away from you. You weren't forced to train every day until your body dropped. You never drowned in expectations that were forced onto you."

Mataram watched as Lycan's frustration broke out, too.

"You were never threatened to be orphaned or made to disappear if you don't mean their expectations." Lycan took a deep breath. "I recognize my advantages, but it doesn't make the drawbacks easier."

After Lycan finished venting, Mataram waited a few more seconds before speaking. "It's difficult, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Lycan sighed. "Truth is, I have a brother with a learning difficulty, and my parents tried everything to 'fix' him. When nothing worked, they wanted to kill him."

Mataram frowned at that, imagining his parents wanting to kill his sister.

"I stood against them," Lycan continued. "Threatened to leave the family behind if they lay a hand on Rama, and I was too good of an asset to disappear for them." Lycan turned to face Mataram. "That's why I need to succeed. So I could keep Rama safe."

Mataram nodded as he listened. "I want to succeed, too," he said calmly. "I was the first person to be born a sorcerer in my village. They wanted me to reach a high position and make the town proud. Sometimes, I blame them for putting those expectations on me. But I realize I probably desired it more than they did. I want to show the lowborns that we can also make it. I know my chances are slim, but I'm not aiming just to become a Captain, Commander, or even a Bhayangkara. I want to be the Golden Garuda. I want to save our world." He had touched the stone again, as advised by Dean Anders. He saw the destruction and carnage that was to come, the demons that would eliminate humanity. And the only ones standing in the demons' way were the Akar Empire and the Golden Garuda.

"Me too," Lycan said. "Although I must be honest. As long as the people I care about are safe, I couldn't care less who became the Golden Garuda." What Lycan did not say, however, was that the best way to keep those he cared about safe was for him to be the Golden Garuda.

"Guess we're both fucked," Mataram said, and both sorcerers burst into laughter.

------------------

The priestess sat inside her litter as four sorcerers hauled it onto their shoulders across the Academy. They did not have to, but it was a sign of respect. Besides, her current old limbs would tire out quickly if she had to walk. Although there were no windows or openings to allow anyone outside to see inside the litter, she kept her golden veil on. She was dressed in the green silk of Akar. She always thought the extravagance was unnecessary, but alas, as the only priestess of the Garuda in existence, she allowed it.

She was not sure where exactly in the Academy now, but it was not long before she felt the litter being lowered. She assumed she was at the upper stages of the central training courtyard, and she could hear Dean Anders giving a speech not far in front of the litter.

"Fight well, recruits, and show us what you can do," Dean Anders said, amplifying his voice with the wind.

A round of applause and roars boomed from the spectators and participants. Dean Anders lifted his arms, gesturing for silence.

"In the past years, my speech would usually end there. However, this year, we have important guests who have come a long way to observe you."

'Here comes my queue,' the priestess thought.

A round of gasps and murmuring waved from around the courtyard. The priestess had expected it. She had heard the soft sound of cloth falling to the ground around her as her four escorts removed their outer robes, revealing the round chest piece on their uniform. Their chest piece was coated in gleaming silver with Garuda engraving.

"Bhayangkara!" someone from below shouted, followed by more yells and surprise.

"Yes, we are honoured to have four members of the Bhayangkara observe our recruits this year. They will be watching you closely, so show them your best," Dean Anders said, gesturing an arm towards the four Bhayangkara."

The priestess, still inside her litter, frowned softly beneath her veil. She had seen the necessity for such a grand entrance, but that did not mean she enjoyed it. They were not here to motivate or inspire any of the recruits but to accomplish a necessary duty.

Dean Anders waited for the crowd to quiet before continuing his announcement. "I could tell some of you have noticed the litter the Bhayangkara had been escorting." Everyone knew the Bhayangkara reported directly and only to the Monarch and acted as her bodyguards. So, who else could they be guarding besides the Monarch herself?

"May I introduce everyone here to our most esteemed guest. The priestess of the Garuda." The priestess knocked on the door of her litter, and one of her guards opened the door and helped her step out. She could hear the confused applause from the crowd.

"Not many of us have ever been blessed enough to be around her presence in our lifetime," Dean Anders said, looking down on his students. He was sure the older highborns had heard of her from tales or during their visits to the Monarch's court and heard the Monarch mention the priestess. But for most people here, none have ever seen the priestess.

Dean Anders looked at the older highborns seated on the upper stages of the courtyard, who had come to watch their children compete. All their eyes were aimed at the priestess exiting her litter behind him.

Dean Anders turned to see the priestess walking slowly towards the seat next to the one he was standing before. The priestess said nothing underneath her veil and sat down on her seat.

Dean Anders turned back to face the crowd. "Fight well, and let the tournament begin," he said and ended his speech there. He stopped transmuting wind before sitting on his seat. The four Bhayangkara stood alert behind the priestess. He did not know what to say to her.

The priestess turned to face the Dean, waiting patiently beneath her veil covering her expression. He was older now, she saw, and not as old as her, but still, he had aged well. He gave her a soft and maybe fond smile.

"Priestess," he said to her.

"Dean Anders," she replied in her old-aged voice.

----------------

Mataram sat in the waiting room, waiting for his name to be announced. He was drowned in anxiousness and nerves. None of the recruits had been given a single detail on the tournament. As soon as Dean Anders' speech had ended and the tournament officially began, they were immediately escorted to a waiting room.

So far, every announcement of a recruit to leave the waiting room had been a lowborn, and none had returned. Only two lowborns were left other than Mataram now, and Mataram expected to be called soon. Lycan sat beside Mataram, and Adriani sat alone in the corner, farthest from the waiting room door.

"You got this," Lycan said to Mataram.

"Do I?" Mataram said, not knowing why he was underestimating himself too much.

"You know," Lycan said. "I have spoken with Adriani, and we both agreed that you are the best fighter among the lowborns."

"But still nothing when compared to the highborns," Mataram sulked.

"That's where you're wrong," Lycan said.

Adriani turned to face the Toress, giving him a questioning but hopeful look.

"Look, I don't mean to boast about myself," Lycan said with an uncomfortable look. "But yes, you haven't beaten me. But I think some of that is because I know how you fight and have hundreds of practices against you. And you also need to give me more credit," Lycan joked. "It's not like I sit on the couch every day."

Mataram chuckled at that. "You're right, actually," he said to Lycan. "I've always had this mentality that you had it easy, but I see you train and practice every day until your eyes bleed. You're not like what I initially thought you would be like."

"Thanks," Lycan replied with a smile. "But that's part of what I was trying to say. You also trained like me, or even more; you lacked proper tutelage. And by now, I'm more than positive you are already better than some of the highborns here."

"You think so, huh?" Mataram asked.

"I know so. Heck, how many of the highborns here have you seen fought?"

That brought up curiosity on Mataram. "Have you ever sparred with Adriani?" Mataram asked Lycan.

Lycan turned to watch Adriani, sitting on the floor in a far corner with his legs crossed, hands resting on his lap, and his eyes shut. "No," Lycan said and frowned a little. "To be honest, I don't think he's a fighter. He's a good person and a genius regarding technology, but I don't think he is a strong sorcerer."

"Why do you think so?" Mataram asked, now also watching Adriani. "He seemed to be as enthusiastic in joining the Bhayangkara as much as we are."

"He said so," Lycan said. "But he seems to be more interested in scrolls than training. I don't think he means it when he says he wants to be chosen, and I think his parents might want it more for him than he does."

"Mataram Rakur," an official called out, and Mataram stood up from his seat. "Follow me," the official said. Before Mataram left, Lycan gripped Mataram's wrist and gave a confident nod to Mataram before letting go.

Mataram walked through the halls and the gate leading to the courtyard, where a dozen healers were waiting on standby, their white cloaks covered with spatters of some dried and still-fresh blood. The official leading Mataram handed Mataram a training sword.

"Go outside. Everyone is waiting," the official said lazily.

Mataram walked towards the courtyard's centre, where he saw his opponent waiting. Mataram did not recognize the man. He was dressed in rags, similar to Mataram, and held a similar sparring sword. So they were putting lowborns against each other, trying to get rid of as many of them as they could before the next round.' Mataram thought.

An Academy Professor stood between the two contestants, and Mataram recognized the Professor. He had not remembered the older man's name, but he was sure it was the flame elementalists instructor.

"This is a straight duel. Both of you begin when I say begin. And stop when I say stop," the man eyed both lowborns and waited for each to nod to him.

The Professor turned to walk towards the courtyard walls, and Mataram watched the crowds. Many locals who had come to watch were excitedly yelling for the fight to begin. But as Mataram faced higher to where the highborns were seated, he saw that many looked bored, and some had fallen asleep.

"Don't go easy on me," Mataram's opponent said to him in his cool and calm voice. "Because I won't do the same."

"Don't worry," Mataram replied, raising his sword to a fighting stance. "I won't."

"Good," the man said, raising his sword to a similar stance. "And just so you don't underestimate me, you should know that I've beaten everyone that had come out here."

"Begin!" Professor Bakar's voice yelled.

#Mataram dashed toward his opponent, palms out, readying to dry the man's eyes, but suddenly found his legs unable to move forward mid-stride. He looked down and saw that his boots had been frozen with ice to the ground. And the next thing Mataram felt was a painful thud to the back of his skull before losing consciousness. And he knew he lost.

Mataram woke up to find a healer holding the back of his head. Someone had dragged him onto the outer ring of the courtyard, where he now lay on the ground. "Stay still," the healer said. "I'm almost done."

Mataram felt the inside of his head moving, but it felt more soothing than painful.

"He got you good," the healer said. "Don't worry, though. Nobody had successfully beaten him even up to now anyway." Mataram stayed silent at the healer's words. "Just give me a few more moments, and you can go and watch with the other recruits."

The crowd was much louder now, and the yells were more ferocious. Mataram felt the reverberation of the stands from where he lay. "How long was I out?"

"A few minutes, but two other contestants after you were already eliminated." The healer let go of Mataram's head and stood up. "The others are at the stands for the eliminated, and you should join them if you want to watch." The healer stood up and began to leave. "I thought the highborns would have easily taken him out. But that recruit proved me wrong," the healer said with a shrug.

Mataram stood up and looked around the outer ring, and some Healers were tending to two injured recruits. What surprised Mataram was that those two were highborns. Who was this recruit? Mataram thought. Mataram did not recognize the man. But again, Mataram had been training with Adriani and Lycan in the courtyard, which highborns usually use. Mataram felt grated. He had been training day and night every day with one of the most powerful recruits, yet this fellow lowborn that he did not even recognize had beaten him so easily. Mataram stared at the two defeated highborns, clenched his fists, and went to the stands to watch the rest of the tournament.

-----------------

Lycan sat nervously in the waiting room. There were around twenty people left, all highborns. Adriani was still sitting in one corner and had not attempted to converse with anyone except Loran when the official called out her name. Lycan knew that at least one of his parents would be watching. Most likely, his father. His mother, who had won the tournament of her time in the Academy, had claimed to not care about such prestige and that Lycan should aim for more.

"Lycan Torres," the official called out. Lycan gulped and stood up and followed the official.

Lycan watched his opponent silently, waiting for Professor Bakar's signal to begin. He was initially surprised to find Professor Bakar officiating but had ignored that thought, at least for now. His opponent was a lowborn; he stood silently and looked down at Lycan even though the man was shorter, precisely the way Mataram used to look at Lycan. And Lycan felt the man's jealousy of how he may have thought Lycan was brought up.

"Begin!" Professor Bakar's voice boomed. And Lycan blasted flame at his opponent.

The lowborn lifted his hand and pointed a palm at Lycan. Water formed on his hand, creating a shield that blocked the fireball. The man came at Lycan, rushing straight towards him. But that was the man's mistake, and Lycan knew it. Never head straight towards a flame elementalist. Lycan placed both his palms up, dropped his sword, and unleashed a stream of flame straight into the oncoming man. Lycan was not afraid of killing the lowborn, as he knew Professor Bakar would step in before significant injuries occurred.

But the man kept coming. Only when the man got close, and Lycan could see through his flames and vapour, did he see that the water shield had grown to cover the man's whole body. And before Lycan could step back, the man's palm reached out and gripped around Lycan's face. Lycan thought he was about to die, that a lance of water would pierce his skull any millisecond from now. Instead, Lycan felt his feet being lifted from the ground, and then his head was sent flying straight back to where his feet once were. His head smashed to the gravel, his feet in the air, and Lycan lost consciousness. Lycan knew he had lost.

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The priestess watched the flame elementalist lying on the floor of the courtyard. She closed her eye momentarily and then pointed at the unconscious highborn. "Him," the priestess said.

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Mataram watched in shock as Lycan was lifted by his face, his feet dangling in the air, and then slammed onto the ground. The crowd roared alongside most of the lowborns in the eliminated booth. The Academy had prepared a special booth for eliminated students a few levels below where the Dean and the Bhayangkara are. All the highborns and Mataram in the booth remained silent. The water elementalist defeated Lycan so quickly. Too quickly.

"Who is that lowborn?" A highborn said, amazed and afraid.

Mataram turned to see the source of the voice, and he recognized her. Loran Anishi, Adriani's older sister.

"I'm surprised you're surprised," another highborn said to Loran. "The lowborn defeated us all just as quickly."

"But that was Lycan!" Loran exclaimed. "I had my money on him to win this tournament. Not this, nobody," she gestured at the lowborn who watched Lycan as the healers carried him to the side.

Someone laughed in the booth, and he was a lowborn. "You highborns are more pathetic than I thought." The highborns turned to glare at him. "Is it that hard to finally realize you're no better than us?" Most of the lowborns joined and stood behind the man, glaring at the outnumbered highborns.

Mataram ignored the commotion and turned back to watch the arena. Another highborn that Mataram did not recognize entered the courtyard, and the newcomer did not stand a chance. How was that water elementalist not exhausted? Mataram wondered.

"Cut it off," Mataram heard someone say. He recognized the voice, and it was Lycan. "If you want a fight, we'll happily accommodate you after the tournament." No one said anything after that, and Lycan and Loran made their way to where Mataram was stood, watching the most recent highborn getting carried away by healers.

"Who is that guy?" Loran pointed at the water elementalist in the centre of the courtyard, standing still. "How have we never heard of him."

Lycan gripped the railings of their booth. Although Lycan's voice was calm, Mataram knew Lycan was feeling the opposite. "I don't know. But he's far beyond me, and my flames could not penetrate his water shield."

Mataram wanted to say that it was just bad luck, but everyone knew luck had nothing to do with it.

"Oh, it's Adriani," Loran said, pointing at her brother entering the courtyard. Adriani was dressed in a loose robe, with a cloth tied tightly on his waist.

"I've never seen him fight," Lycan said. "Is he any good?" He turned to Loran.

"It's hard to tell," Loran replied. "I remember him being really good when we were much younger. But his interest seemed to move away from fighting as the years passed."

"The match is about to start."

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The priestess watched the second Anishi taking a fighting stance. She closed her eyes and felt nothing. She opened her eyes, thinking how long it would take for this highborn to be eliminated. The Anishi had an easy smile, seemingly not taking this fight seriously. Just another highborn underestimating his opponent.

Lycan watched Professor Bakar signal the start of the fight. As soon as the battle began, Adriani leaped and smashed directly into his opponent with his shoulder. The water elementalist slammed against the courtyard wall with Adriani still stuck into him. The courtyard walls shook, followed by an explosion of dust. The attack was so sudden that even Lycan did not know if he would be able to react on time. Lycan saw a silhouette of a large man smash a sword again and again into another fallen form through the dust cloud. Only when the dust settled did he see it was Adriani striking his training sword against the water elementalist. The water elementalist had formed an armor made of ice to cover his whole body like armor, and chips of ice broke off after every Adriani's swing.

Only then did Lycan felt intimidated by Adriani. Adriani had always been tall with a good build, but his easy smile had made him look harmless. And now, he was nothing but terrifying.

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The priestess watched as the water elementalist was pressed against the ground by the swings of the augmenter. The elementalist on the ground tried to raise a hand and form a shield, but the augmenter's swing immediately sent his hand back down. Sitting beside the priestess, Dean Ander stared at the current beatdown with wide eyes. He glanced at the priestess but turned back when she said nothing. The crowd turns wild as someone finally gave the lowborn a challenge.

The augmenter stopped chipping at the ice armour, revealing a wide gap in the armour's chest plate where ice no longer covers it. The augmenter flipped the grip on his blade and stabbed the downed elementalist. The water elementalist took a glance toward the priestess before finally turning limp. Healers immediately rushed to the downed sorcerer.

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Covered by her veil, no one could see the priestess's confused expression. The four Bhayangkara standing guard behind her tensed. She closed her eyes again, focusing on her connection to the Garuda, but still finding nothing.

"Priestess," Dean Anders whispered into her ear. "What happens now?"

Intrigued, she finally lifted a finger and pointed at the Anishi down below, and Dean Anders nodded, jotting down the recruit's name on a paper. "Just proceed as what would be usual."

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Mataram watched silently as the water elementalist was hauled to the side and tended by three healers. Adriani had said something to the healers, and one of them was now staring at Adriani in awe. Or maybe contemplation, Mataram could not tell for sure. But the fight replayed again and again in Mataram's mind. Mataram knew Adriani was an excellent swordsman; there was never any doubt. However, this was the first time Mataram had seen Adriani in a serious fight, and the augmenter was terrifying.

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Lycan shuddered as he stared at Adriani. He was sure all the highborns with him currently felt the same. Many would not have noticed, but Lycan had seen the ice the water elementalist had formed on Adriani's boots, trying to slow the augmenter. But Adriani had broken through it as if it was nothing. The water elementalist himself was already on another level compared to anyone in the booth. Forming ice was already as tricky for a water elementalist as for a flame elementalist to summon blue flames. Ice armour is a feat many experienced sorcerers found challenging to manifest, and the lowborn had done it by reflex. That made Adriani even scarier. The speed and strength Adriani possessed were, to put it mildly, unexpected.

Loran was the first among them to say something. "What the… I never knew he could fight like that, and I always thought he was never interested in combat." She cursed. "Damn. I underestimated him by a longshot."

Me too, Lycan thought.