As he moved on to observe another student, whispers spread through the hall. Many of the students who had previously doubted Rheon’s reputation were now utterly captivated, and Alira, though still nervous, felt a renewed sense of purpose.
“Today’s lesson isn’t just about technique,” Rheon declared, his deep voice resonating through the hall like a drumbeat. The room fell silent, every student hanging on his words. “It’s about adaptability. A true warrior isn’t defined by their strength alone, but by how they respond to the unexpected.”
He extended his arm, and with a subtle motion of his fingers, the center of the hall began to shift. The smooth floor groaned as hidden mechanisms activated. Panels slid aside, revealing an elevated circular arena that rose from below, its edges glowing faintly with Essentia energy. The craftsmanship was mesmerizing, clearly the work of advanced Essentia engineering. Gasps echoed among the students, and even the more experienced fighters in the room leaned forward, their curiosity piqued.
Rheon’s expression was stern as he gestured toward the arena. “This,” he began, “is your battlefield. And today, you will learn not just to fight, but to think, to adapt, and to overcome.”
Murmurs broke out among the students, some excited, others apprehensive. Towan glanced at Elliot, whose eyes gleamed with anticipation. Alira shifted nervously, her earlier struggle with her flames still fresh in her mind.
“We’ll have sparring matches,” Rheon continued, his tone calm but commanding. “And I will personally handle the matchups.”
The students’ murmurs grew louder. Being assessed directly by a legendary fighter was as thrilling as it was terrifying. Rheon’s reputation as a tactician and master of combat was second to none, and having his attention focused on their performance felt like both an honor and a challenge.
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Towan leaned closer to Alira. “He’s going to choose who fights?” he whispered, trying to mask his nervousness.
“Looks like it,” Alira replied, glancing at Rheon. “He’s probably testing us… seeing what we’re capable of.”
Rheon raised a hand, and silence swept over the hall once more. “These matches are not about winning or losing,” he said firmly, his gaze scanning the crowd. “They are about revealing your strengths, your weaknesses, and how you confront them. Some of you may face opponents who outmatch you. Others will face those you think you can easily defeat. In both cases, you will be tested. And I will be watching.”
His words sent a ripple of tension through the room. Sylra, sitting calmly on the sidelines, crossed her arms, her confident demeanor unshaken. Jyn, still sore from his earlier loss, clenched his fists, clearly determined to redeem himself.
“Prepare yourselves,” Rheon said, stepping aside as the arena’s edges flared brighter, signaling that it was ready. “The first match will begin shortly.”
The students began murmuring again, some stretching or adjusting their gear, while others mentally braced themselves for the challenge ahead. Rheon’s eyes lingered on each of them, assessing, evaluating. Every movement he made seemed calculated, as though he already had a plan in mind for every match.
Towan clenched his fists, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. “I have a feeling this is going to be more than just sparring,” he muttered to Elliot.
Elliot smirked. “Good. We’ll get to see what he’s really looking for.”
Rheon’s voice cut through the chatter once more. “When I call your name, step forward. Show me what you’re capable of.”
The hall fell silent again as the students awaited the first names, tension thick in the air.
Rheon stood at the edge of the arena, his piercing gaze scanning the crowd. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm yet firm: “Zeyra Lockheart. Trin Lorath. Step forward.”