In other sections of the further floors, the situations are clear to the pair of high-rank Walkers. They watch all 13 of them, and the pair of Louise and Stark appears uninjured and even unbothered after the 2nd fight. They haven't run away, as they are confident to work around any challenge as Walkers from renowned parents of strength. Both endured a single match between both of them, so that's a fine result to have. They trust one another, so when the two of them combine together, it makes this trial much better. That is the fact that both of them have, unlike the rest.

For friends to do this sort of trial together is rare so it's obviously worth it, and highly advantageous. They do not worry about any issues between them, and their time will be much easier. But when it wouldn't, it is the case for others, since it may be a bit difficult for the rest of the 13 first-timers. They are nothing but strangers to one another. After all, the time before this trial varies a lot, while their lives are all different. Even if the well-grown children of the Walkers participate, they may not have the desire, or chance to work for their talent.

“It's normal, so what is so surprising about this?” Butler A asks, viewing the monitors with her keen eyes and rather stoic and cold words aims at the Overseer.

“Are you sure it is, Agatha?” the man says, chuckling.

“Of course I am right. Those kids may be new to this, but they aren't stupid. They will work around your rules and make a laughing stock out of you. Then, your laughter will dissipate as it should a long time ago.” Agatha tells in a mocking manner.

“My laughter and dissipate? Nonsense.” the man smacks the chair's handles, and stops his annoying chuckles. “Again, Agatha, your words hit me so hard... I can't care less about some rules, as I created them to make this precisely up for this reason. They are here to provide them with learning and scheming opportunities that any Walker needs to feel. The System is nothing but an enemy too, and their version may vary. You know what I mean, and you secretly find this trial to your liking, even though using young Walkers against one another isn't fine.”

“So what?” Agatha asks, unfollowing his words and ignoring how he confesses it isn't fine.

“Nothing. All I am stating are simple facts. They may as well not fight, as the rules you told them under my words are the only ones they need to have. Hilarious, isn't it? Will they figure it out like that girl? I wonder.”

“It's chaos, and you created it. Do you think I wished for kids to fight one another? We have low darks for this reason in this place, and you refused them for this trial.”

“I like chaos and low darks are boring. I will use them later, obviously.”

“Obviously... I would expect nothing less from mighty Tiberon. A lunatic and joke of a walker. You will seriously piss off some people with this, and you won't be glad.” Agathe tells and watches as the man before the monitors turns to face her direction. He smiles at her face, figuring that her words are right and he looks forward to these issues.

Tiberon is in his 40ties, but with some visible laughing wrinkles around his eyes, revealing some age. Though it adds nothing but a well-rounded charisma and it suits him. He isn't all that muscular which isn't a norm around the enchanted physical bodies of the majority of the Walkers. It is his preference, so it goes without question that some Walkers can control their bodies quite well, or create the desirable one.

His utterly black hair goes along with his black eyes, and his uniform, consisting of a high-collar cut coat, white shirt, and military-grade boots, adds some final touch to his lofty stature.

Tiberon is quite a personality on the Academy grounds, but his strength is unquestionable. At Rank 8, regardless of any consequences, he is, at the moment, the youngest to ever reach that stage. None will probably question his chaotic ideas, since he earned his spot as an Overseer. Not even the Prime Hunter was able to overturn his record of reaching Rank 8 so fast.

He looks at Agatha and asks. “I know I asked, but how did it go with my second request?”

“We won't allow the Dark beings in the building. Did you think it would be possible? Are you dumb? Even if they are Rank 1, it may as well wait for the 3rd Trial where it is at least better-taken care of.” Agatha explains with visible bother and clear frustration in her eyes. This man before her doesn't take no for the answer, so she expects a lot more frustrating things from him in the upcoming time.

Out on the 7th floor, William at last, finds something interesting. A rope, some water, and a knife laying in the corner of a room. Not sure what it can be used for, he still takes them and proceeds to look around the 7th floor of this upper left section.

So far in, he has yet to meet any of the first-timers, or another student of the academy. Not Rozzante, Louise, Stark, or that unknown pale girl, are anywhere, but it makes sense to him. They should be further up, while they may be in another corner altogether. With the intersected rooms and hallways or corridors, one can travel around the 4 corners from floor to floor.

And he is right. They are much further into the skyscraper than he anticipates, but he can't hear any disturbances, so he assumes most should be above the 10th floor.

His guesses are right, as Stark and Louise are well beyond that point and they are the current leaders. The pair of young and confident Walkers aren't doing this for fun. They don't go around the floors and look at them like William does. They don't need to, nor do they want to, so they focus on going up, which is simple. Running, and occasionally getting lost to find a correct staircase, they reach the 15th floor, which marks the 3rd opponent.

A rather indifferent and chubby boy stands in the tall and wide hallway. He isn't staying before the stairs or further things as this place serves as a good fighting arena. “Great. A pair? Already the 2nd in these 2 hours? You seem good and fast, but we aren't doing this like this. It is a duel, so we do this alone.” he says to the pair that appears around the corner

“We don't mind this. Another toss, Stark?” Louise asks his friend, who anticipates the next course of fighting with pumped fists and a cheery face.

He is confident, so he takes a coin from his pocket, brandishing it on top of his palm. “Emblem or the sun?” he asks.

“Sun, of course. Sun.” Louise answers, eyeing the coin that depicts a rare Academy currency with a glistering sun emblem at one side, and the academy emblem at the other. It is an inch-wide flat coin, and the emblem depicts rectangular lines with an Emblem in the middle. It is only resembling a gem since the quality of the coin isn't all that great.

“You chose it every time, how about changing it?” Stark argues.

“Fine. I will change it. Academy is it then. I am confident.”

“Great. Let's go!” Stark grins, feeling confident too.

“Why the hell do you guys have that coin? Shouldn't I do the choosing?” the chubby boy argues, feeling a little left out and confused about how they have this coin. He guesses they took it from 2 previous fights, as he holds the same coin in his palm as Stark. He has no choice either way then to accept their idea since the choice doesn't matter either way.

Stark tosses the coin high into the ceiling before it falls to the floor. Flipping, and turning, it ends on a likely side that pleases Stark quite a bit.

“Sun!” Lousie frowns and scowls, looking dumbfounded at his friend who has a victorious sneer.

Walking to the chubby boy, Stark is full of vigor and a fighting spirit.

“Damn... A fighting lunatic? I don't like your kind.” the chubby boy says, sighting and stepping forward as if he doesn't have a choice. Truthfully, he doesn't since the rewards aren't that bad for the students.

Stark stops his steps, watching the indifferent state of this boy's face. Tall. He is a bit too tall for his neck. This boy is absolutely towering over him with well over 6 feet of height, and his thickness is quite massive as well. Is he seriously around his age?

“Y-you??” Stark shouts in question, as he discovers the familiarity with the youth. It is unsurprising since the youth of this caliber is something he knows for sure. In fact, almost all youths that are within the beginning of the Academy, are figures one can know. They can either be - famous from the Awakening, touched by lady luck of right birth, or become a high topic in the world of Walkers.

“Yea. Yea, I also recognize you, young Takker. I know. Good to see you taking this Trial at this time, this Trial, and so on. We have to fight regardless of some pride or rules or so I heard. It's a bother, tho, they said.” the youth sights again.

“Well, you say that as if it's an issue, while it's not an issue for me.” Stark chuckles, finding the situation rather fitting. To fight with a great Walker of similar age, he will take it. “Unlucky you, to see and meet me, Zechariah.”

“Zech is fine, even though we haven't seen each other in a while. So? Wanna fight?” Zech stretches his arms, figuring that some things have to happen for the 3rd time.

“I am not that kind to flee from the fight. I can, but why would I pass on this rare opportunity?”

Hearing it, Zech chuckles loudly, finding it rather intriguing to hear that. “Rare. Sure. You wouldn't pass it up. Some things never change, isn't it right?”

“I bet.” Stark nods. “Are you still the same dull, and unmovable boulder?” He says in a mocking tone It flies over Zech's ears, who can't be bothered with this person, this situation, or this Trial. He will do the bare minimum and call it a day as he desires. Whether that will mean something great or not, he doesn't care.

With the loose uniform-like attire, Zech appears unmoved and waits for Stark to make his move. He doesn't even activate his Emblem, but that doesn't mean Stark will give him that sort of attitude.

“Sure. Sure. Then let's do this.” Starks tells and activates his Emblem.

A wild and flowing shape of chains shoots from the rivers of metallic arcanite, flowing around his right hand, while thin layers of chains form around his torso. They are quite dense and appear like armor.

In his right hand appears the Ascendant Dagger, named according to the System. The armor is more clear, filled with plates and scaly patterns of much denser-looking particles. This is arcanite and not Vectors, which appears thicker in the forms of special visions of the arcanite matter. What Stark has is rich arcanite, since the Vectors have no stability to make the intricate lines of their laws, and rules that run inside the Emblem.

“Nice Emblem's appearance. Isn't it like your old man? I can see small resemblances to that, but more can change over the years. Yours seems stranger, so it is Arcanite? Is it lucky or not, I wonder.” Zech asks in a bored voice of wonders, causing Stark to frown a little. Already processing how to solve this fight as fast as possible, Zech also activates the emblem that is within his chest.

An encompassing is the right term to call the appearance of Zech's Emblem's Mold. Appearing all around his body, the sturdy weights of Vectors form something strange. Lines of Vectors shape up an exoskeleton of a humanoid figure, which is further out of his body. Almost like armor, but not really, since it is an extension of a body.

“Huh? Is this seriously a Rank 1 Skill? THIS?” Stark questions this sort of pressure, and unsurprisingly, Zech forgets he can't use Rank 2 Skills. Complying with orders, he chose a different mold. The one he worked on in the past months will do, so he changes it a bit.

Still in Rank 1, they are close to one another, but it is obvious that the previous one is much higher in terms of power. The exoskeleton disappears and shapes up a partial pattern of its mass over Zech's arms, shoulder, and back. Now, it appears like true armor, but almost like a toy that he takes out of that skeleton. It appears like long gauntlets, which cover his hand, and form quite fierce-looking fists.

Stark knows it, and he wouldn't be able to strike him if he would remain in that exoskeleton mold. Probably, that is. Getting his chances higher, Stark isn't that stupid to fight with Rank 2 Mold, even though he feels he would have a high chance of figuring something out. Winning? That too, if he would go all out, which he wouldn't do. This is an endurance fight all throughout.

The difference between half a year, to a year in the Academy, is like an enormous mountain, and it weighs on first-timers' shoulders. It also forms as motivation, since they can become stronger in the upcoming half a year from this perspective.

Even though they aren't far from each other, Stark knows this boy before him is close to his talent, and time changes the status quo. He is stronger. Zech, that is.

He hasn't reached the 90s mark in the Awakening, but the 89 mark is still impressive. It is a close distance away, which doesn't speaks volume of Zech's attitude, but talent.

Zech, with a strange sort of fist armor, and layers of purple-ish Vectors around his shoulders, assumes a rather weak posture around his upper body. It should be enough for his brief exchange and this madman in front of him, who knows no bounds. It's not his first rodeo, and not his last, according to his knowledge.

With the Ascendant Dagger in hand, Stark struck forward, making a wild slicing and vertical line with his long dagger. He hits Zech who has no need to dodge since he can simply place his hand forward, and catch the blade. But his hand, arm, and upper body go quite a bit backward, and his feet stumble down, and away, Zech frowns, forcing this pressure away with a strong stomp to the floor. Then, he clenches his fist, holding the Ascendant Dagger firmly after feeling Stark's surprising power. It is more than he assumed. In terms of physical hit and brute force, this strike is well within the realms of Rank 1's heights.

Without his primary Skill, this is a close call, and it is more or less the same with almost all official students. They are strong and powerful after spending some time in the academy, but rules are rules. Zech's body armor may be at Rank 1, but Stark's form is quite strong for a Rank 1 too.

But there are some things that are stronger than a body, and Stark uses them to his advantage. It goes along his Walker path and the things he has gotten. Changing his chained self, the slim chains become like wild and swirling snakes, forming a storm, which seems almost alive. It is, in a sense. All of his chains are part of Stark's body and control, but the latter isn't as firm, as it requires time to get the hang of their form.

For them to become a singular form, made from countless little specks of arcanite, is the source of his success. It isn't easy, as his whole body is taken over by the arcanite flow in the shape of many swirling and revolving chains.

Even his Ascendant Dagger is reducing itself to these chains, and Stark retreats so Zech wouldn't pose a threat to him. Though, he wouldn't do much, since Zech is quite curious about what he will do.

“What are you planning? Is this your true power? A final form, as they said? How funny.” Zech wonders out loud, smiling and nodding to himself as he waits.

He doesn't have to, which makes Starks happy. He grins within his storm which already goes for 5 seconds.

The swirling chains around his body go all the way across his perception of himself. It even changes in the shape, no longer resembling the chains, but a motion of molten metal since it's part of Stark's partial affinity and his understanding. Using the speed of a swirling storm, the arcanite changes to its rudimentary form, and Molding can become easier.

Similarly to Roman, his overall Arcanite isn't the kind that is close to the Vectors. It's more of the Elemental type, which even confirms his System and his own Emblem. It forms something unique and circumstances aren't like his father's. The only thing that is making Stark upset is the lack of Vectors. He would prefer them over this strong and unique thing, but vectors are easier to wield and form stronger powers.

Still, neither of them is better than the other. It is up to the Walkers to change their own paths and figure out their own advantages. It is fair.

Unlike some earthly elements, his is metallic in nature, which may be fundamental to the earth. It is kind of what follows him from his father's side, albeit with quite some qualitative change. Metalic Element is stronger on his side, while his father has powerful Vectors of lesser elemental affinity.

Zech watches as this rather intriguing, and terrifying presence is forming before his eyes. It is strong, the metal before his eye. It almost resembles a cocoon and it's 10 feet tall and 4 feet wide. “Are you already close to Rank 2 in some things? This pressing is impressive.” Zech tells and pulls his arms before his torse in a defensive stance.

“Nah. This is just a thing I recently made.” Stark tells in confidence, and shoves his right hand forward, piercing the cocoon, and doing some form of move. A massive javelin is forming itself from this molten cocoon, swirling around his hand. It resembles a rectangular-shaped spear instead, with a sharp tip, but some parts are smooth in a cylinder shape. It's a Mold of a weapon, with a unique premise. The molten arcanite flows around the arm, and shoulder, forming quite shiny armor plates in a metallic sheen.

Now, Stark resembles a medieval kind of knight in shiny armor, albeit in the torso alone, and with not much mass. Also, the size of the javelin isn't that small and isn't meant for throwing, but for direct confrontation. Actually, calling it a javelin, or spear, wouldn't be fine. It resembles both of them, with some similarities to a long mace, javelin, and spear if they combine together.

“Defend this!” Stark eyes gleam, and his words are firm as he lowers his posture. Placing his weapon forward, he steps forward, and in a few steps, arrives before Zech.

He is quite an easy target since he is a tank who wants to take this attack head-on. Regardless of this trouble, the frown on his face, and the push of this metallic power, he places his palms forward and tries to catch this stabbing motion. A change occurs, as the flow of Vectors changes in Zech's hands. Stark's heavy and straightforward strike flickers away from the tip. Stark is unable to change his heavy motion from a sudden shift in weight, yet his attack continues.

It scrapes Zech's right shoulder, but the protection around it is tough. He manages to dodge this heavy strike through his clever use of vector flow and experience. A simple change is all it took to change the flow of combat, and Stark notices that Zech's control over his own Emblem and enemy is tremendous.

Seeing his ineffective strike, Stark still continues for about a dozen steps forward. He couldn't change his direction that easily, as he figures, and curses. He thought Zech would take it head on, but it seems the past Zech changed for the better in the Academy and is no longer stubborn.

Gritting his teeth, he watches as a purplish fist goes right to his face. Zech sidesteps, arriving with his fist after turning his body backward. Though Stark is already beyond his tenth step, he forces himself to a stop and steadies his position. He only has a second to adjust his right shoulder to take this fist, which turns out to be enough.

The fist hits it, but it shakes his upper body, and he almost coughs up blood.

Staggering away, Zech's attack is effective even though the arcanite armor isn't that bad. It's taking the blows much better but part of the strike still travels to the body, dispersing in the muscles, skin, and the body beneath it.

The case of good armor is dependent on the kind of attack that goes against it. It's almost the same case with Dark being and their defenses and it is a key factor among many Walkers to know their enemies and their own defenses.

Zech could've struck faster, and even use both hands to his left side, but it's too bad he didn't do that earlier. Now, he watches as Stark swipes his weapon away, turning himself backways just like him and striking his chest in a wide motion.

A rather heavy blowing sound follows, and Zech's body goes towards the wall, which he ends up cracking. His both forearm is facing forwards, protecting his body which is fine. He can take this sort of damage well, and his eyes gleam in an interesting light. Perhaps, his long-lost fighting spirit is reignited?

“Oh. You took my spearlin rather well.” Stark tells and already prepares for another strike. The damage done to his left shoulder isn't an issue, since his right side is more important anyway.

“Frickign monster... and so young. You remind me of some assholes... I swear. What is that? Do you have a Vector one or an Elemental one? Which one takes the priority?” Zech asks while the majority of his upper body is fine, apart from his chest, which has a small bruise. It is nothing bad, as his body has enough protection, but the tip of this strange weapon did travel through a small opening between his arms.

“It's a mix, I suppose, but no Vectors, unfortunately. But those chains of mine appear like ones. It's an effect of my Forging. It's metal, you see?” Stark tells, and when over, he pounces forth at Zech with his weapon. “I will let you see enough! Enough chitchat, Zech! I am not holding back for you and our past!”