Umi Nagisa stood up before two disciples who were kowtowing, pleading for her to take them on as her first students. Yawning, she looked down at the mediocre talents. “Fight each other,” she said, stretching as a look of disinterest spread across her face, her gaze drifting to her nails.
Both disciples glanced at each other in confusion. “Sorry, Elder Nagisa, did you say to…fight?” they both asked in unison.
“Yes. Show me you’re worth the effort,” Umi Nagisa replied in a bored tone, her mind already half-distracted. This is the intelligence of these kids? And they came expecting what, exactly?
The boys exchanged nervous looks before leaping in opposite directions. The first disciple muttered a quick prayer to Baul, the god of labor, his ki glowing as he focused on channeling the god’s strength. In a surge of power, his muscles swelled, his arms thickening as his ki condensed into raw physical might. He swung a powerful, earth-shaking punch at the second disciple, his movements slow but strong.
The second disciple, empowered by Vevira, leapt gracefully into the air, her body twisting and spinning with the fluidity of a wild feline. She chanted a prayer under her breath, her ki humming with a sharp, agile energy. As her opponent’s heavy punch came crashing toward her, she twisted her body, narrowly dodging the blow and landing lightly on her feet.
With a burst of speed, she sprang forward, aiming for his exposed side. Her kick was a blur, quick and precise, but the disciple of Baul anticipated her movement. He flexed his massive arms and blocked the strike with the side of his forearm, the impact resounding like a thunderclap.
The crowd watched in awe as the two clashed, the power of the god of labor pitted against the feline agility of the goddess Vevira. The second disciple’s movements were undeniably graceful, but the disciple of Baul was a force of nature. He charged forward with surprising speed for his size, his ki erupting with every step.
The first disciple launched a second punch, aiming for her head, but she danced backward, narrowly avoiding the blow. Yet, in doing so, she left herself open for a counterattack. The disciple of Baul lunged, grabbing her by the arm and throwing her against the ground with incredible force. Her body slammed into the earth, the impact rattling the air from her lungs.
She gasped, momentarily dazed, but the disciple of Baul wasn’t finished. With a grunt of effort, he lifted her once more, his muscles bulging, and tossed her into the air. She flipped in mid-air, landing on her feet as if she were born to do it, but the blow had already taken its toll. Her movements were slower now, the effects of the god of labor’s brute strength showing.
Despite her agility and finesse, the disciple of Baul relentlessly pursued her, each strike more precise and devastating than the last. She tried to dodge and weave, but her opponent’s power was overwhelming, and her agility alone wasn’t enough to counteract it.
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With a final, resounding blow, the disciple of Baul slammed his fist into her abdomen, sending her crashing to the ground in a cloud of dust. The second disciple gasped for breath, struggling to stand, but it was clear the fight was over.
The crowd fell silent as the first disciple stood tall, sweat dripping from his brow, his breathing heavy but controlled. He had won.
“Master Umi Nagisa,” he said, bowing deeply. “I hope that was satisfactory.”
Nagisa eyed the student lazily. “Eh…mediocre.” Her words fell like a hammer.
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the onlookers. “Mediocre? He overpowered her with brute strength!” several disciples whispered among themselves.
“Yeah, and Elder Nagisa didn’t even blink!” one muttered.
“Just how high are her standards?” another asked.
“Too high! Who does she think she is? Haven’t you heard? She hasn’t taken a single disciple since she became an Elder,” scoffed one voice.
“I’d have standards too if I was the youngest Elder in Phoenix Academy history,” someone murmured in reply.
Meanwhile, the second disciple struggled to her feet, face flushed with frustration. “But…Master! I clearly showed my speed, my grace!”
Umi Nagisa sighed, visibly annoyed, and sat up straighter in her chair. “Really? You think this was an impressive display?” A dangerous glint flickered in her eyes. “You were fast, but you lacked the power to back it up. Your opponent might not have the same grace as you, but he knows how to harness his strength. Speed is nothing without the power to support it. You let your agility cloud your judgment, leaving yourself wide open. A true fighter must master both strength and skill.”
Nagisa's gaze turned to the disciple of Baul, still standing with a smug grin. “And you. You relied too much on brute force. You may have won this time, but strength alone is not enough in a battle of life and death. You left yourself wide open in numerous instances—especially when you threw your opponent to the ground. A skilled fighter would’ve turned that moment against you. Remember, raw power is a tool, not a guarantee of victory. You might overpower someone in one strike, but in a true fight, that single opening could be your end.”
The disciple of Baul’s smile faltered, uncertainty creeping into his expression. He had never considered the deeper implications of his reliance on sheer power.
The second disciple’s pride was shattered as Umi Nagisa’s words sank in. The crowd, silent, hung onto every word.
“That is why,” Umi Nagisa continued, her tone sharp, “I have no time for you. You may have the grace of a feline, but grace alone does not win battles. Step aside and think on what I’ve said.” Each word was like a dagger, piercing the second disciple’s heart.
The defeated disciple turned away, helping her opponent to his feet, both leaving with their hopes dashed. Umi Nagisa watched them go, her patience for inadequacy long since worn thin. If they couldn’t learn such basics from the outer court, she thought, then they’re not worth my time.
The day was not yet over, and already she was irritated beyond measure.