At Arcanum Royal Institute, it was the much-anticipated day of sophomore orientation. Mel, Arid, Elowen, Lumi, Caius, Sera, Renita, Lincoln, Rue, and Jake sat together on the bleachers, surrounded by the other sophomores. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement and nervous energy as a stern warden took the stage. His voice echoed across the gymnasium as he informed the group that soon, they would be split up and assigned into their respective card ranks. The weight of the moment hung in the air, the realization that their paths would soon diverge settling over them.
The warden signaled for dismissal, and Jake stood up, adjusting his jacket to discreetly cover his stomach. “Well, you’re all black cards, so I’ll leave you to it,” he said, offering a casual wave before stepping down from the bleachers and heading out of the room.
Mel turned to Rue and gently helped her into her wheelchair. “Guess I’ll head over to the yellow card room,” Rue said with a light chuckle as she positioned herself. “Not much I can do sparring with the red cards while dealing with, you know, paralysis.” She gave a playful smile and wheeled herself out of the room, leaving Mel to watch her go with a thoughtful expression.
Mel stepped in front of the group, clapping his hands together to grab their attention. “Alright, listen up. The test starts in about an hour. There are 18 black cards competing, including us, and I think I should be the leader,” he declared with a confident smile.
“Wait, what?! Why does he get to be the leader?!” Arid snapped, crossing his arms in protest. The others groaned, clearly not thrilled with Mel’s self-nomination.
Mel grinned mischievously and held up his hands. “Because I can do this.” He clasped his hands together, and in a flash of silken threads, a tiny enforcer materialized, perfectly crafted, jumping rope in the palm of his hand.
Arid threw up his arms in exasperation. “What does that have to do with anything?!” he shouted.
Before he could say more, Elowen pressed a gloved finger to his lips, silencing him. “No, no. He’s got a point,” she said, her eyes locked on the intricate enforcer with clear intrigue.
“Alright, settle down, everyone,” the warden called out, stepping back as the murmurs in the gym grew louder. “Your new headmasters are here to introduce themselves.”
To the sophomores' surprise—except for Caius, Lumi, and Sera, who didn’t recognize him—a wave of astonishment rippled through the crowd as Draven Stormclaw, Jasper Onyx, and Kai Stormbringer walked out side by side. Mel shot to his feet, his eyes wide with surprise, and cheers erupted across the gym.
Jasper chuckled as he approached the microphone, tapping it lightly to quiet the crowd. “Alright, alright, settle down,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “Yes, it’s us. We’ve all been appointed headmasters because we were last year’s top black cards. King Aldara decided to offer us this position since, well... we didn’t exactly get a graduation.”
Draven stepped forward, his piercing gaze sweeping over the group of students. “Some of you, I recognize. Others, not so much,” he began, his voice steady and authoritative. “Out of the 18 black cards here, only 9 of you will advance to tier three. The catch? You’ll need to prove yourself by defeating your opponent in sparring.” His words hung in the air like a challenge, daring them to rise to the occasion.
Kai stepped forward, clearing his throat with a friendly smile. “Now, don’t panic,” he began, his tone lighter. “Even if you lose your sparring match, you can still pass through the written exam and secure a spot in tier two. But if you fail both…” He paused for dramatic effect, his grin widening. “Well, that lands you in tier one. No pressure, though.” His eyes sparkled mischievously as he continued, “The real kicker? Tier three gets to train with Draven, tier two works with Jasper, and tier one—lucky you—gets stuck with me.”
Excited murmurs and scattered cheers echoed through the gym as anticipation buzzed in the air. Kai stepped forward, his authoritative tone cutting through the noise. “Alright, listen up, ladies and gentlemen. Head to the locker rooms and change into your gym clothes. First, we’ll start with some basic marching drills to warm up, followed by sparring.”
He paused, letting the instructions sink in. “No weapons, but magical attacks are allowed. And just so you know, we have a medic on standby, so give it your best. Also, no armor—this test is about skill, not gear.”
The second-year black cards nodded in unison and quickly made their way to the locker rooms, the girls heading into their section and the boys into theirs, the energy of competition already in the air.
In the boys' locker room, Mel, Caius, Arid, and Lincoln huddled in a corner, their nerves hidden behind light banter. Mel stretched his arms and legs, a confident smile on his face. “Everyone ready? One of these guys could be the opponent that determines if we make it into tier three for the first half. If we each win our matches, we just have to pass the exam to secure our spots,” he explained, his tone steady despite the weight of his words.
As he spoke, he winced slightly, sliding off his gauntlets to reveal the black lightning scars etched into his skin, glinting under the fluorescent lights.
Arid, securing his staff in its compact form, raised an eyebrow. “You’re forgetting one thing, Mel—what if we have to fight each other?”
“Oh, right. That sucks,” Mel muttered, sighing as he shrugged off his jacket and began wrapping bandages around his arms with practiced ease. He carefully removed his Atlantic jewelry, placing each piece in his locker with precision.
“Which one of them do you think is making it?” Arid asked, gesturing subtly toward the five other boys scattered across the locker room.
Mel glanced at the group, his gaze lingering on their expressions—sharp and hostile, their eyes locked onto him, Arid, Caius, and Lincoln. The air in the room grew heavier as the unspoken tension settled over them.
“You guys just gonna stare, or are you planning to introduce yourselves?” Arid sneered, stepping forward with a defiant tilt of his chin.
Lincoln’s eyes widened, and he quickly moved to stand in front of Arid, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Please ignore him! He’s not exactly... a people person!” Lincoln stammered, desperately trying to pull Arid back to the bench. However, his efforts were futile; Arid didn’t budge an inch.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
A burly boy with wild, untamed hair rose from his seat, his presence commanding attention as he casually cracked his back. “I was just wondering how a body that small could talk to me like that,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “Name’s Terence Curnow, prince of Penem Kingdom.” His gaze bore down on Arid like a predator sizing up its prey.
“Small body? I’m average-sized,” Arid muttered, glancing down at himself as though double-checking.
Terence smirked, his grin widening as he tapped a finger against Arid’s chest. “Oh, you’ve got something there,” he said, his tone deceptively casual.
Arid instinctively looked down, and Terence chuckled darkly. “Never look away from your opponent!” he barked before swinging a punch.
The blow never landed.
Mel moved with swift precision, intercepting the strike by catching Terence’s fist mid-air. His calm but firm grip radiated strength as his black lightning scars briefly caught the light. “It’s unmanly to attack someone when they’re not looking,” Mel said coolly, locking eyes with Terence, his voice carrying a subtle warning.
Mel winced as Terence pressed forward, using his weight and strength to overpower him. “What, did you think this was gonna be one of those ‘little guy beats the big guy’ stories?” Terence mocked, shoving Mel backward with enough force to send him tumbling across the floor.
Before Terence could gloat, Caius leapt into action, his knee connecting squarely with Terence’s face. The impact was thunderous, and Terence stumbled back, crashing into a row of lockers. His expression shifted from smug to stunned as he wiped his nose, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face.
“So, what’s the plan? Are we doing this here?” Terence asked, his stance steady, ready for a fight.
Mel sat on the ground, clutching his arm and breathing heavily. Wisps of cloud magic swirled from his fingers, cooling the burning ache on his arm as he focused on soothing the pain.
A sharp knock on the door broke the tension. Jasper strode into the room, his voice calm but commanding. “Alright, are you kids ready? We’re starting in a few minutes. Let’s move,” he said, glancing at each of them in turn.
The room fell silent as the boys exchanged looks, their competitive energy momentarily dampened. One by one, they began heading toward the gym, the promise of the real test awaiting them.
The nine boys stood on one side of the gym while the nine girls lined up on the opposite side. Draven tapped the microphone again, his voice commanding but lighthearted.
"Alright, students, time for a warm-up! Pair up with someone from the opposite line. Run, tag your partner's hand, and head back to your starting point. Repeat this ten times, and then you can finish up with some stretches. Got it? Go!" he instructed.
The students paired off and began jogging. Mel jogged toward Elowen, meeting her halfway to tag her hand.
“We should be—” Mel started, but he cut himself off as they reached their ends and turned around to jog back.
They tagged again, their pace steady. “Worried about the new students because—” he began again, but trailed off as they focused on their rhythm, reaching their ends for the third time.
On their fourth lap, Mel picked up the pace slightly, tagging Elowen’s hand with more urgency. “They’re really strong,” he said, his words hurried as they ran. “I want us to make it to tier three.”
Elowen nodded silently, her determination mirroring his as they continued the warm-up, each lap fueling their resolve.
They met in the middle again, hands slapping together in a quick tag.
“You gonna be okay with your scars?” Elowen asked, her words rushed as they turned and ran back to their respective ends.
Mel nodded, his pace steady but his breathing starting to quicken. “Yeah, I haven’t used it all day,” he replied when they met again for another tag. “They still hurt, though—that’s why I keep them wrapped.”
They pushed off, running back and forth again, their footsteps echoing in the gym.
“Just be careful,” Elowen said on the next lap, her voice tinged with concern. “And we need to make sure we don’t end up fighting each other.”
Both were starting to pant now, their breaths syncing with the rhythm of their strides, the determination in their expressions unwavering.
After finishing their jogging drill first, Mel and Elowen sat side by side, both panting softly.
“Were there any in the girls’ locker room as aggressive as Terence?” Mel asked, wiping his brow.
Elowen leaned back, thinking for a moment. “Not aggressive, but I had no idea Lumi and Sera were that ripped. They’re ridiculously strong. There was this girl, Emerson Ross from the Sloutubet Empire, and Gabrielle Farrell of the Luizia Empire. A few others too, but honestly, I was mostly sizing up their physiques since none of them showed off any attacks. It’s wild how many kingdoms are packed into the continent of Aurora.”
Mel nodded, his gaze drifting as he leaned against the bleachers. “Yeah, Aurora’s crowded with powerhouses.” He paused, exhaling deeply. “And then there’s Dorian. I can’t interfere with his leadership—it's not my kingdom to govern. I mean, he’s not doing a terrible job uniting a couple of kingdoms, and I only went there to save Amara. But... I can’t just ignore what he’s doing either. What should I do?”
Elowen glanced at him, her brows furrowed in thought. “Sounds like you’re walking a fine line. Maybe it’s not about interfering—it’s about keeping an eye on him and figuring out where you draw that line.”
“Don’t get smart with me!” Mel teased, pulling Elowen closer and playfully tickling her stomach with his knuckle. She burst into laughter, squirming to escape his grasp. Their laughter filled the air, carefree and light, until Arid strolled up to them with a raised brow.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asked dryly.
Elowen quickly stopped laughing, her cheeks flushing slightly as she cleared her throat. “What? No. Mel, get off.” She kicked him lightly, and he flopped onto the floor with a dramatic, “Ow.”
“I hate being tickled,” she muttered, straightening her posture and slipping her tough facade back into place.
Arid looked unreadable, unimpressed by the scene. “Right. Anyway, they’re about to start picking matches. Thought you’d want to know.”
Mel sat up, brushing himself off, while Elowen nodded, her composure fully restored. “Thanks, Arid. Let’s get this over with.”