The midday sun bore down mercilessly on the Knight Academy’s training grounds, baking the stone floor until it seemed to radiate heat. Julius wiped the sweat from his brow, his chest tight with anticipation as he stood at the arena's edge. Around him, Team 4 was gathered—Edward standing like a marble statue of confidence, Aria radiating raw strength, and Shane smirking as if the upcoming fight were some grand joke.

Across from them, Team 1 loomed like an immovable wall of superiority. Galeen Silverthorn stood at the center, the wind currents swirling faintly around him like unseen blades. To his right was Bran Halloway, whose hulking frame looked like it could punch through a mountain. Talia Snowe’s ice-blue eyes glinted with a dangerous chill, mist curling faintly from her fingertips. At the far edge stood Syra Elmheart, small and delicate, her radiating flashes of light already beginning to pulse with warning.

Julius felt the gulf between their teams like a weight on his chest. He gripped the hilt of his father’s sword. This was it—the formal trial that would show just how far he had to go.

Instructor Eckhart’s voice cut through the air. “Teams 1 and 4. Step forward!”

The two groups lined up. Edward glanced at Julius, his icy blue gaze cutting like a knife. “Stay out of the way, Johnson. This isn’t a fight you can win.”

Julius clenched his jaw. “I’ll do my part, Your Highness.”

Eckhart’s gravelly voice rose above the tension. “Knock your opponents out of the ring. Use your Virtues, and remember—victory is earned, not given. Begin!”

The arena erupted into chaos.

Aria surged forward, her movements deliberate and thunderous. She slammed her fists into the ground, and the earth responded—stone erupted around her arms, forming jagged gauntlets that cracked and reformed with every flex of her fingers. Bran met her charge with an earth-shaking roar, his massive frame hurtling toward her like a battering ram.

The two collided in an explosion of force, shockwaves rippling through the ground beneath them. Bran swung a fist the size of a boulder, but Aria ducked under the blow, countering with an uppercut that sent stone shards flying.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Aria growled, the ground trembling beneath her feet.

Bran grunted his expression a mix of surprise and anger. He lunged again, trying to grapple her, but Aria planted her feet and met him head-on. Her gauntlets glowed faintly, cracks of light pulsing through them as she lifted Bran off the ground with an earth-shaking heave.

With a defiant yell, Aria hurled him across the ring. Bran skidded to the edge, his weight cracking the stone before he tumbled out of bounds.

“Team 1 loses Bran!” Eckhart called, though his voice barely registered over the roar of the crowd.

Aria rolled her shoulders, glaring at the rest of Team 1. “Who’s next?”

While Aria fought with brute force, Shane danced through the arena like a shadow. Syra’s brilliant flashes of light burst from her fingertips, each one leaving blinding afterimages in the air, but Shane was already three steps ahead.

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“Stand still!” Syra snapped, frustration bleeding into her voice.

“Why?” Shane called back, his voice carrying that insufferable smirk. “You’re doing a great job of missing me as it is.”

Syra clenched her fists, the light growing brighter. She released a burst of energy that tore across the arena, splitting stone and filling the air with dazzling brilliance. But Shane slipped through the chaos with inhuman agility, his wind-based Virtue—Eye of the Sky—revealing the safest paths. He moved like a whisper of air, leaving faint afterimages of himself as he darted closer.

Syra blinked, momentarily disoriented by the illusions Shane left in his wake. She turned sharply, only for Shane to appear behind her, grinning.

“Boo,” he said cheerfully before sweeping her legs out from under her.

Syra tumbled to the ground, her light fading. With a quick nudge, Shane pushed her out of the ring. “Syra’s out!” Eckhart barked.

Shane dusted his hands off and shot Julius a wink. “See? Easy.”

In stark contrast to Shane’s fluid movements, Edward fought with brutal efficiency. Talia summoned lances of ice, her Virtue crackling as she hurled them toward Edward, but each strike was met with his glowing blade, Justice. The sword crackled with lightning, arcs of energy splitting through the air with every swing.

“You rely too much on your range,” Edward said coldly, sidestepping another ice spike.

“And you rely too much on arrogance,” Talia shot back, summoning a wall of frost to shield herself.

Edward’s gaze sharpened, the lightning at his sword’s edge intensifying. With a single, decisive swing, he cleaved through the ice, his Virtue exploding outward. A shockwave of lightning surged toward Talia, shattering her defenses. She staggered, her balance lost.

Edward was on her in an instant. The Eye of the Storm flickered in his eyes—a brief flash of what would happen next. He shifted, already anticipating her counterstrike, and struck low. Talia cried out as her feet left the ground, the impact sending her sprawling out of the ring.

“Talia’s out!”

Edward lowered his sword, the energy dissipating. His gaze flicked briefly to Julius, unreadable.

Julius’s knuckles whitened around his sword as Galeen Silverthorn stepped forward, the faint currents of wind swirling around him like an invisible storm.

“You look lonely, Johnson,” Galeen said, his voice smooth and mocking. “Your friends seem to have done all the work for you.”

Julius forced a grin, though his pulse thundered in his ears. “Good. Means I don’t have to share the spotlight with you.”

Galeen’s smirk deepened, his pale blue eyes narrowing. “Bold words for someone who doesn’t belong here.”

Before Julius could move, the wind struck. A torrent slammed into his chest, lifting him off his feet and driving him back. He hit the ground hard, gasping for air.

“Get up,” Galeen said softly, his tone sharp. “If you think strength is enough, you’re already lost.”

Julius staggered to his feet, charging forward with a desperate swing. Galeen sidestepped easily, his movements almost lazy. Another gust struck Julius, knocking him down again.

“You’re slow,” Galeen remarked, disappointment flickering across his face.

Julius gritted his teeth, pushing himself up once more. “Not done yet.”

Galeen’s expression hardened. The winds around him surged, swirling into a vortex. “Then let me end this.”

Julius barely saw the final blast before it hit. The gale tore into him like a hurricane, throwing him clear across the ring. He landed just outside the boundary, the sword slipping from his hands.

“Julius Johnson is out!” Eckhart’s voice rang, final and cold.

The crowd fell silent as Julius lay there, staring at the sky, the ache of failure sinking deep into his bones. Galeen turned away, the winds fading.

“Disappointing,” he muttered.

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

As Team 4 regrouped, the taste of victory was bittersweet. Aria and Shane exchanged brief nods of satisfaction, while Edward stood tall, seemingly unbothered.

Julius sat on the ground, wiping blood from his mouth. Shane crouched beside him, offering a hand. “You’re still here, farm boy. That’s something.”

Julius took the hand, his chest tight as he stood. Edward’s cold gaze lingered on him for a moment before he turned away, muttering, “A knight without power is just a man holding a blade.”

Julius said nothing, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword. He had fought—and failed. But something inside him refused to break.

Steel breaks. Flesh endures.

For now, that was enough.