The midday sun hovered above the Academy’s battlefield, its heat baking the open arena—a sprawling mix of uneven terrain, patches of tall grass, and stone barricades. Team 4 stood together on the edge, tension hanging between them like a coiled spring. Across the field stood Team 3, led by Cordelia Silverly. The gleam of Cordelia’s golden hair and her composed smile contrasted sharply with the focused ferocity of her teammates.

Today’s open-field battle simulation would test their ability to work as a team. Victory lay not just in strength but in strategy, trust, and perseverance.

Julius gripped his sword tightly, his eyes darting between Team 3’s members. Cordelia, a master of illusions through her Virtue Hope, stood at the center with unnerving calm. To her left, Cyril Thornwright, the fire-wielding artist, spun flames lazily between his fingers as if preparing for a masterpiece. On her right, Marla Stoutfoot, the Halfling Faith user, crouched slightly, her silver eyes scanning Team 4 like a predator. And above them, hovering on controlled gusts of wind, was Ivo Windmere, the aerial scout whose Generosity Virtue gave him eyes over the entire field.

“They don’t look worried,” Julius muttered, tightening his grip on his sword.

“Let them underestimate us,” Edward replied coldly, stepping forward. Lightning crackled faintly around his fingertips, betraying his growing focus. “We’ve beaten worse.”

Aria cracked her knuckles, a faint ripple of stone magic trembling beneath her skin. “We’ll just have to hit them harder.”

Shane shot Julius a lazy grin, his twin daggers glinting. “Stick close and don’t die, farm boy. I’ve got plans to get back to later.”

Instructor Eckhart stepped to the center of the field, his gravelly voice cutting through the growing tension. “Team 4 versus Team 3. The objective is simple: incapacitate or disarm your opponents. The trial is about coordination and determination. Begin!”

The sound of the whistle rang out, and the arena erupted into chaos.

Aria launched forward like a stone missile, her fists cracking into the earth with enough force to send tremors rippling across the field. Her target: Cordelia.

Cordelia remained still, unbothered by the earth’s quaking fury. As Aria charged, Cordelia’s smile widened faintly. The air around her shimmered, and shadows began to peel away from the terrain, rising like phantoms.

“Aria Chase,” Cordelia said softly, her voice carrying like a song. “How predictable.”

Aria didn’t slow, her stone gauntlets forming mid-stride as she brought her fist down toward Cordelia’s head. But at the last moment, Cordelia vanished—leaving behind a blur of illusions. Aria’s strike met only air, shattering the ground instead.

“What the—?!” Aria spun, her green eyes darting wildly. Shadowy forms danced around her, Cordelia’s voice echoing softly in her ears. “You can’t fight what isn’t real.”

Aria grit her teeth, slamming her fists into the earth again. The shockwave dispersed the illusions temporarily, but Cordelia’s laughter echoed through the battlefield.

“Isn’t hope wonderful?” Cordelia’s voice purred from all directions. “It lets you believe you’re close to winning… even when you’re so very far away.”

Aria growled, sweat beading on her brow as she stomped the ground once more. This time, stone spikes erupted in a wide radius, forcing Cordelia’s illusions to falter. Through the haze, Aria caught a flash of gold—Cordelia’s real form flickering at the edge of her vision.

“There you are,” Aria snarled, charging with all her force. “Let’s see you hide from this!”

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Meanwhile, Edward found himself at odds with Marla Stoutfoot. The Halfling moved like a shadow, blending into the tall grass and uneven terrain, her daggers flashing briefly before disappearing into the earth. Edward’s cold blue eyes narrowed, his Eye of the Storm flaring to life as flickers of the near future danced through his mind.

The ground to his left trembled. Edward pivoted sharply, his sword cutting through the empty air as Marla popped up, aiming a dagger strike at his ribs. Lightning crackled along his blade, forcing her back as he twisted, narrowly avoiding the blow.

“Not bad,” Marla said quietly, slipping back into the shadows of the terrain. “But you’ll have to do better than that.”

Edward’s eyes darted across the ground, catching glimpses of disturbed earth. His future-sight flickered with brief flashes of Marla’s attacks—daggers plunging up from the ground, swipes aimed at his legs, slashes from his blind spots.

She’s testing me, Edward thought, forcing his breaths to steady.

Marla reappeared, lunging toward him with twin blades. Edward stepped to the side at the last possible moment, guided by his visions. Her daggers passed harmlessly by him as he swung the flat of his sword at her back. Marla rolled out of reach, vanishing into the grass again.

“Whack-a-mole,” Edward muttered under his breath, his patience thinning.

This time, he struck first. Edward slammed his sword into the ground, sending arcs of lightning crackling through the earth. The electricity lit up Marla’s hiding spots, forcing her out of stealth with a sharp gasp.

“Got you,” Edward said, his blade glowing as he lunged forward.

Shane faced Ivo Windmere, the Generosity user who hovered high above the battlefield like an ever-watchful hawk. Wind blades sliced through the air, forcing Shane to keep moving, his Eye of the Sky flaring as paths of safety lit up before him.

“Come on, Windmere!” Shane called out, dodging effortlessly as a slicing gust tore into the stone beside him. “You can’t hit me with those weak breezes.”

Ivo frowned, his focus tightening. “You’re slippery. I’ll give you that.”

Shane grinned, vaulting over a stone barricade as another wind blade slashed where he’d stood a second earlier. “Slippery’s what I do best.” He flung a dagger upward, the blade whirling harmlessly past Ivo, but Shane wasn’t aiming to hit.

Ivo glanced down at him. “You missed.”

“Did I?” Shane replied. The wind shifted just slightly—Shane had thrown the dagger through a narrow gust Ivo had created, disrupting the scout’s balance. Ivo’s flight faltered as he dropped slightly lower, closer to Shane’s range.

Before Ivo could recover, Shane launched forward, using the terrain to propel himself upward. He struck with a second dagger, grazing Ivo’s cloak and tearing a small rip. “Gotcha.”

Ivo growled, retreating back into the air, now warier of Shane’s unorthodox movements.

Julius, meanwhile, faced Cyril Thornwright, the fire-wielding artist. Cyril’s flames swirled gracefully around him as he stepped forward, his movements calm and deliberate.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Cyril mused, sending a spiral of fire toward Julius. “Each flame tells a story. Let me paint yours.”

Julius barely managed to dodge, the fire singing his coat as he rolled aside. “I’m not here to model for your art show,” he shot back, raising his sword.

Cyril smiled faintly, his hands tracing patterns through the air. “A shame. I would’ve made you look magnificent.”

The fire grew wilder, more unpredictable. Julius swung his sword desperately, trying to break through the inferno. The voice inside him—Volunder—whispered again. “Cut through the chaos. Focus.”

Julius gritted his teeth, narrowing his gaze as Cyril’s next wave of flames surged forward. This time, Julius stepped into the heat. He swung his sword downward, cutting through the fire with a surge of raw instinct. For a moment, the flames faltered.

Cyril blinked in surprise. “What—?”

But Julius couldn’t capitalize. His body burned with exhaustion, and Cyril sent another blast of fire his way, knocking him backward onto the ground.

With Aria closing in on Cordelia, Edward pinning Marla down, and Shane keeping Ivo distracted, it seemed like Team 4 might have a chance. But Cordelia’s illusions flared brighter than ever, twisting the battlefield into a maze of light and shadow. Her team capitalized, each member pressing their opponents back.

“Enough!” Cordelia’s voice rang out, her power surging. A final wave of light disoriented Team 4, forcing them to their knees.

“Match over!” Instructor Eckhart’s voice boomed. “Team 3 wins!”

Team 4 regrouped at the edge of the field, bruised, battered, and breathing heavily. Cordelia’s team stood victorious, though not smug. Even Cyril looked winded, and Marla’s cloak was scorched.

Edward clenched his fists. “We were close.”

“Close doesn’t count,” Aria muttered, shaking her head.

Julius stared at his hands, frustration bubbling up. “We’ll get them next time.”

Cordelia caught his eye from across the field, her serene smile lingering just a little too long. Something about it twisted in Julius’s gut.

This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.