The dreamscape faded around Akari, replacing the stone ruins with the arena’s simple brown walls and a padded floor. She felt suddenly naked without her armor, and her hands still vibrated from the machine gun.

"What the hell was that?" Landon blurted out from across the ring.

Akari shrugged as the lanky Wind Artist stomped over. "Fifty caliber HK9 with mana-enhanced bullets."

"You know what I meant." He rounded on Camila, who'd been overseeing their fight. "She messed with her generator. She—"

The Artisan crossed her arms, looking bored by his outburst. "Mr. Windstrider, what part of ‘no rules' didn't you understand?"

Landon dropped his hand, glancing up to see a good portion of their class staring down at them. Even Grandmaster Raizen was watching, though he didn't seem surprised.

"This happens every year," Camila told him in a softer voice. "Usually not until the second or third round of duels. But it’s part of the game, so you should take notes for next time."

Akari had been braced for a lecture, an argument, and a grudging admission that she’d followed all Raizen’s instructions. Skipping to the end was almost disappointing. Then again, you couldn't swing a dreamhawk without hitting a smart person in the Artegium. Even the cipher had left all the whitespace intact—almost as if they planned for someone to solve it in class.

Landon shot Akari a look as he left—not quite a glare, but definitely not friendly. Everyone knew she was a Gold. The scoreboard even said "Foundation" next to her name, while the other 196 students were all Apprentices. He'd clearly expected an easy win.

Kalden met Akari at the top of the stairs, giving her a thumbs up as she approached.

"Hey," he said. "That was—"

Just then, the Grandmaster announced the next two duelists. "Kalden Trengsen and Tori Raizen. Arena One."

Akari furrowed her brow. "Going back for seconds, huh?

"Looks that way. Wish me luck" And with that, he jogged down the staircase behind her.

Akari glanced at the analog clock that hung above the locker rooms. It was only 8:45, and the class went on until 10:30. They probably had time for everyone to fight once more. Maybe even twice if they only did the winners.

Her gaze shifted to the scoreboard, which only showed Block B this time. It also displayed their duel results rather than their shaping scores. Most of the top ten had vanished, including the reigning champion, Zukan Kortez. Elise Moonfire held the number one spot in his place, followed by Tori Raizen, and then Kalden. Akari found her own name in the middle of the list.

Twenty-fifth out of forty-seven.

The morning was off to a great start, and she still had a full bag of tricks.

~~~

Kalden took his place in the arena, and his opponent approached from the opposite side. Her face reminded him of Akari's, with a blend of Shokenese and Espirian features.

Tori Raizen.

Until now, he'd wondered why Grandmaster Raizen would leave his sect to come here. Despite KU's reputation, many of Shoken's schools were just as prestigious. Not to mention more specialized and more ancient.

But if Raizen had a half-Espirian daughter, that might explain a few things.

Tori stepped closer, taking her position in front of him. She double checked her tight black ponytail, ensuring every hair was tucked in place

Their eyes met, and memories flooded his mind. He'd dueled this girl before—four years ago when his father took him to the Ivory Blade Sect in South Shoken. Tori was a Blade Artist ... and yes, her father—Grandmaster Raizen had been her teacher.

Kalden felt suddenly dizzy as more memories poured in. He and his brother, Sozen, had also trained with Grandmaster Raizen during their stay in the Ivory Blade Sect. In exchange, Kalden's own father had trained Tori, along with several other students.

But she wouldn't remember him, and neither would the Grandmaster. A certain Mystic had seen to that.

Kalden and Tori bowed to one another, and he saw the calm determination in her eyes. Kalden's previous opponent was Dejan Boznak—a Gravity Artist who'd made a show of bravado to hide his desperation. But Tori's face was statuesque, as if she'd entered a battle trance mere moments before. He remembered such rituals from his days as a champion duelist. You found a quiet spot alone and visualized your own victory. You burned away your doubt until nothing remained but absolute certainty.

Kalden had used a similar ritual before his admissions exam, but he hadn't thought about it today. That might have been a mistake.

"Don't raise the ceiling," his father had once said. "Raise the floor. You're only as good as your worst day. "

He'd beaten Tori Raizen in their last few duels, despite being a year younger than her. Could he do the same today?

From the far side of the arena, Camila pressed a button on her tablet and activated the ring's dream Constructs. The arena shifted to a forest floor, and the ceiling changed to a bright blue sky. Trees sprouted all around them, and the audience vanished from sight.

"Prepare," Camila's voice said from an unseen speaker.

Mana raced through Kalden's channels, and his hands itched to form his pure blades. A physical weapon would have helped too, but he hadn't had time to ask Akari about that. Even if he had ... was that right? Kalden had been a terrible friend all summer. He'd told himself they needed to focus on their goals, but now Relia had him doubting that plan.

Speaking of focus. Kalden took several deep breaths—in through his nostrils, then out through his mouth. With each breath, he forced his thoughts away. Everything but this fight—this moment.

The preparation phase ended, and Camila began the countdown.

"Three ... Two ..."

He scanned the battlefield as she spoke, searching for potential traps and cover. Despite the regulation-size space, these dream settings were much smaller than usual. Probably because Raizen didn't want the duels to drag on all day.

"One."

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Kalden returned his eyes to his opponent.

"Fight."

Tori sprang forward, closing the distance with blinding speed. Blade mana flashed in her hands—a silver mirror against the green forest.

Kalden leapt right, dodging her first attack and taking cover behind a thick oak tree. Tori struck again, but he kept moving as he formed his own blade. Mobility was a Blade Artist's biggest weakness, and these trees offered plenty of cover.

But the longer Kalden delayed, the stronger his opponent would be. He'd need perfect timing to pull this off.

His weapon finished forming in his hand—a twelve-inch blade with a cylindrical handle. No sooner had he finished the technique than he leapt from his cover.

Silver flashed to his left as Tori struck. Kalden raised his blade to parry, then his instincts screamed at him to duck.

A chain whip snapped over his head, and its bladed tip struck the tree with a shower of bark.

What? Since when did Blade Artists use chain whips?

The chain links wrapped together like a spool of thread, pulling Tori closer. Her body spun through the air as she flew, and blades sprouted from her arms and legs.

Kalden formed a shield at the last second, filling it with enough mana to stop a charging drake. Tori's blades cut through the Construct like wet paper. Kalden dropped to his belly, missing her strikes by mere inches.

The ground shook as she crashed into a tree behind him. Kalden sprang to his feet, blade in hand.

Tori loomed over him like a massive metallic insect. Two blades protruded from each leg, letting her hover a full three feet off the ground. Chain whips spun in her outstretched hands like massive stingers.

This was nothing like the Blade Artist styles he'd learned before. Tori and her father had invented something new. They'd come to Espiria for freedom—to push their techniques in a world free of traditions.

The right whip lashed for his throat. Kalden ducked, but it changed course in midair, coiling around his left ankle. He flared his Cloak technique, but the whip flexed again. He lost his balance and flew feet-first toward his opponent.

This time, Kalden was the insect, and she was the open-mounted chameleon.

Well, her feast would have to wait.

Kalden shot a Missile from the stump of his right forearm. This blew his prosthetic hand off its base, and the thrust sent his body sideways, missing Tori's blades by a hair's breadth.

The momentum carried him straight past her, then he dropped his weapon and sent a Missile into a thick tree trunk. This took him behind his opponent in a half circle. She dropped the chain before it curled around and strangled her.

Kalden landed feet-first on a fallen log, less than six feet from his opponent. The fallen chain vanished to silver mist before he could use it.

Tori flung herself toward him, angling her body so she struck with her feet rather than her hands. The blades on her legs grew longer, surrounding Kalden on either side. One closed on his throat, while the other aimed for his torso. The old Kalden would have blocked them both, but he hadn't had a chance to form his blades. Less than a minute had passed since the fight began. In that time, Tori Raizen had formed six perfect weapons, and he'd struggled to form one.

"You'll never make it as a Blade Artist." Irina's words echoed in his mind as death closed in.

Kalden hadn't wanted to believe her. He'd thought he could brute-force his way forward with enough time and training.

Now, the truth was as clear as his own defeat. Even with both his hands, Kalden would still lose today. He might have held out longer, but the outcome would be the same.

The blades snapped shut like scissors. Kalden tried to form a dome, but his efforts were in vain. The blade mana overpowered him, and his body burst into a cloud of white light.

Camila announced Tori's victory over the speaker. The forest faded in the same moment, its vibrant colors fading to simple browns and grays.

Tori crashed into the floor in front of Kalden, landing on her back. She sprang to her feet before he could think of offering her a hand.

As for Kalden, his own body hadn't budged. Sometimes, the arena would simulate pain to prepare students for real fights, but it didn't bother when a blade cut through your windpipe. No one walked away from that. Not even Life Artists like Relia.

"Well fought." Kalden pressed a fist to his open palm and bowed to his opponent. He kept his expression calm like a Blade Artist should.

"You too," she said as she returned the salute.

Then they climbed opposite staircases toward the catwalks.

"You okay?" Akari asked when he crested the top stair.

"Of course," Kalden said without thinking. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe 'cause it sucks to lose that fast?“

"Amateur duelists obsess over outcomes," his father used to say. "They crave victory, and they fear defeat. True duelists focus on their practice. Regardless of the outcome, the next move is always the same. Get back to work."

His father had been a harsh teacher, but he'd never scolded Kalden for losing duels. Likewise, he'd saved his praise for breakthroughs in the dojo, not for victories in the ring.

"Forget it.” Akari spun on her heel and strode away. "Have fun pretending."

"Wait,” he said to her retreating back. She turned around and waited. When Kalden spoke again, his voice came out just above a whisper. “You’re right."

She narrowed her eyes, waiting for more.

“I’m not fine.”

How could he be fine? He'd spent his whole life preparing for this moment—to duel at the collegiate level. Now, he was finally here, and he wasn't good enough. He hadn’t just lost that duel. He’d lost without throwing a single offensive technique.

"You'll never make it as a Blade Artist."

Irina had known this would happen. So had Elend, and even Relia. Kalden had fought at Tori Raizen's level once, but things had changed in their time apart. He'd lost two years of training on Arkala, and he'd spent that time on other pursuits. He'd become a competent alchemist, and he'd spent his free time reading hundreds of books on history and battle tactics.

Meanwhile, Tori Raizen had trained, honing each technique beyond the point of mastery. Kalden was thousands of hours behind her, and he'd never close that gap. He'd known this at a rational level all summer. But it was one thing to hold a thought in your head. It was another to feel it in your bones.

"Took you long enough," Akari told him.

A crowd gathered to watch the next duel, and the two of them walked side by side.

"My old self was a Blade Artist," Kalden said. "But that's not who I am today. I need a new aspect."

His thoughts drifted to Elend, and that day they'd trained in the backyard.

"There's a force within you," he'd said. "It's the same thing that makes that tree grow from an acorn."

Elend had claimed he didn't believe in destiny. Destiny implied one perfect outcome, and the world didn't work that way. However, other thinkers had disagreed over the years. The author of Battle Arts spoke of natural inclination and how you could be drawn to certain skills or objects in your childhood. That inclination could hint at your future. Not necessarily your destiny, but an ideal path forward.

But Kalden had spent his entire childhood training, with little time to explore or make his own choices.

"How about Knowledge Arts?" Akari asked in a casual tone.

"Sure. I'll just learn one of the world's hardest aspects. Now, where should we go for lunch?"

She snorted as if she genuinely appreciated the sarcasm. And maybe he deserved that. Her spacetime mana would also be a tier four aspect. On top of that, she’d be venturing into uncharted territory.

"You can handle it, Mr. Ninety-Nine Percent."

Great. Now Relia's sense of humor was rubbing off on her.

"And what about this?" Kalden gestured to their surroundings. "I'm already in a Combat Arts program."

"So? They don't have Knowledge Arts for fighting?"

Kalden paused, then his mind flashed back to older dreams from Arkala. Those dreams hadn't just shown their pasts. Akari had already been a Spacetime Artist in her dreams, despite only learning space mana from Ashur Moonfire.

As for Kalden, he'd never dreamt of blade mana. Not once. In his dreams, he'd seen every detail of the surrounding battles. And with his Mana Arts, he didn't just command Missiles and Constructs the way soldiers did. He felt the battlefield itself as if it were one tangible thing. He commanded soldiers like pieces on a crowns board, sending commands directly into their minds.

Was that Knowledge Arts, or something more? Was it just a dream, or something within his reach?

Perhaps it was time to find out.