High above the hunting grounds, the floating projections kept shifting one after another, each pane of light showing a different section of the test area. Forests, broken ridges, the lake, open stretches of dry land. Students were scattered across all of it, some fighting in groups, some dragging down prey they had chosen carefully, others learning in real time that ambition and ability were not always the same thing. Among all those images, one had just drawn the full attention of the four directors.
Bartholomew stood over the corpse of the serpent, chest heaving, uniform torn, one hand still trembling from the force of the final strike. Beside him, Trafalgar remained off to the side, calm, untouched, never having intervened once.
Selara adjusted her glasses, a grin already pulling at her lips. "He killed it."
