Two students emerged from the crowd. Zeyra was a tall, lean girl with short, spiky green hair and an air of confidence. Her emerald-colored Essentia flickered faintly around her hands—a manifestation of earth energy. Trin, on the other hand, was shorter and stockier, his dark brown hair falling messily over his eyes. His Essentia hummed in the air around him, charged with raw electricity.

They stepped into the glowing arena, each taking their place at opposite ends. Zeyra stretched her fingers, the ground beneath her shifting subtly in response to her will. Trin rolled his shoulders, lightning crackling around his fists, his face tense but focused.

“Remember,” Rheon said, his voice slicing through the silence, “this isn’t about brute strength. Show me your control, your creativity, and your ability to adapt. Begin.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Trin launched himself forward, his body surrounded by arcs of electricity. His speed was astonishing, closing the gap between them in a heartbeat. Zeyra, however, didn’t flinch. With a stomp of her foot, the ground beneath Trin erupted into jagged stone spikes, forcing him to veer to the side.

Rheon observed with an impassive expression. “Zeyra’s timing is solid,” he murmured, loud enough for the students nearby to hear. “But her formation lacks precision. Those spikes are more a deterrent than a trap.”

Trin adjusted quickly, sliding to a halt and firing a bolt of electricity toward Zeyra. She raised an earthen wall just in time, the bolt dissipating harmlessly against it. But as she lowered her defense, Trin was already moving again, zigzagging unpredictably to close the distance.

“He’s using his speed well,” Rheon noted, arms crossed. “But he’s relying too heavily on it. His attacks lack versatility.”

As Trin reached striking distance, he swung a lightning-charged fist at Zeyra. She sidestepped, the ground beneath her rippling as she shifted it to propel herself back. With a sweeping motion of her hand, the ground beneath Trin became unstable, sinking slightly and throwing off his balance.

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“Good,” Rheon said, a faint glint of approval in his eyes. “She’s starting to think ahead, using the terrain to control the fight.”

But Trin wasn’t out yet. He slammed his fist into the ground, sending a shockwave of electricity through the arena floor. Zeyra winced as the charge reached her, momentarily stunning her and forcing her to stumble.

“She’s vulnerable,” Rheon muttered. “Let’s see how he capitalizes.”

Trin surged forward, his movements now more aggressive. He launched a rapid series of punches and kicks, each strike enhanced by his Essentia. Zeyra struggled to block and evade, her earlier confidence beginning to waver.

“Zeyra has strong defensive instincts,” Rheon observed. “But she needs to shift her focus. Defense alone won’t win this match.”

Just as it seemed Trin had the upper hand, Zeyra dropped to one knee and slammed both hands onto the ground. The arena trembled as a massive pillar of stone erupted beneath Trin, launching him into the air. He flailed for a moment before landing hard on the edge of the platform, his lightning flickering as he struggled to recover.

The students watching let out a collective gasp. Trin pushed himself up, panting, his earlier momentum completely disrupted.

“An excellent recovery,” Rheon said, nodding slightly. “But she hesitated to follow through. That hesitation could cost her against a more skilled opponent.”

Zeyra stepped forward, ready to press her advantage, but Rheon raised a hand, signaling the end of the match. “Enough.”

Both combatants froze, their Essentia fading as they turned to face him. Rheon stepped into the arena, his presence commanding their full attention.

“Zeyra,” he began, his tone even, “your control of the terrain is commendable. But you rely too heavily on reactive techniques. Take the initiative. Shape the battlefield before your opponent has a chance to dictate the flow.”

She nodded, her earlier confidence replaced by determination.

“Trin,” Rheon continued, turning to the boy. “Your speed is your greatest asset, but you’re predictable. Your attacks follow the same pattern, and you overcommit. Learn to feint, to mislead. Make your opponent second-guess every move.”

Trin looked down, absorbing the critique, before nodding firmly.

Rheon stepped back, addressing the class as a whole. “These matches aren’t just about power. They’re about learning. Take note of what you’ve seen here.”

The tension in the hall rose again as the students realized their turn could come at any moment.