Three days after the evaluation, the academy announced the next event — Inter-Class Combat Trials.
Every first-year would represent their respective class in a competitive ladder.
Victory meant prestige, advancement points, and a better chance to move up in the final exam rankings.
Defeat meant stagnation — or worse, demotion.
For most students, it was a chance to shine.
For Lee Shin, it was the next step.
He stood among hundreds of students gathered in the central arena, the air heavy with mana and anticipation. Floating screens displayed the brackets, each glowing name a future opponent.
As the crowd buzzed, Shin's eyes scanned the names until one made him pause.
Class D – Lee Shin
First Opponent – Class C – Yun Ha-joon
A faint smile crossed his lips.
Ha-joon — a wind user known for his arrogance and speed. A good test.
At the far side of the arena, a few students from Class A watched from the upper platform. Shin could feel their gazes — cold, analytical, and assessing. Among them, Arielle Vexhart stood with arms folded, crimson eyes fixed on him.
Beside her, however, another figure smirked.
Lee Rion.
His half-brother's expression was a mixture of amusement and disdain, as if watching an ant crawl toward a flame.
"So that's the little miracle from Class D," Rion said mockingly. "He won't last two rounds."
Arielle's gaze didn't shift. "He might surprise you again."
Rion scoffed. "Please. He's a mistake that shouldn't exist — nothing more."
Arielle glanced at him, her eyes sharpening. "You sound afraid."
He stiffened but forced a laugh. "Afraid? Of that trash? Don't make me laugh."
She didn't answer — just turned her gaze back toward the arena as the opening whistle sounded.
Shin stepped into the ring.
His opponent, Ha-joon, grinned and twirled his dual short blades, thin trails of wind circling him like serpents. "A Class D trash promoted by luck, huh? Let me send you back where you belong."
Shin simply drew his practice sword, calm as still water.
The audience erupted in excitement — C-class students cheering, D-class holding their breath.
The judge raised a hand. "Begin!"
Ha-joon vanished.
Wind exploded around Shin, slicing across his cheek as Ha-joon darted behind him, attacking from blind angles. The speed was impressive — too fast for most to track.
Shin didn't move. Not yet.
Slash after slash whistled past, each narrowly missing its mark. Then, at the tenth strike, Shin's blade rose — effortlessly deflecting Ha-joon's next attack with surgical precision.
The impact sent a gust rippling outward.
Ha-joon stumbled back, shocked. "How—?"
"You move fast," Shin said, his voice low. "But your mana trail is louder than thunder."
Before Ha-joon could react, Shin's foot shifted — a subtle, perfect pivot — and he struck once.
A clean, horizontal slash that stopped just short of Ha-joon's chest.
The mana around Shin pulsed.
The ring glowed faintly.
Wind collapsed around Ha-joon like shattered glass. He fell to one knee, gasping, blade trembling.
"Winner — Lee Shin!"
The judge's voice echoed across the arena.
The D-class section erupted into cheers and disbelief, while C-class students stared in stunned silence. Up in the observation deck, Arielle's lips curved into a smile.
Rion's hand tightened on the railing. "Impossible…"
"Not impossible," Arielle murmured. "Earned."
Later that afternoon, Shin sat beneath the shade of the courtyard tree, catching his breath. The battle had drained more mana than expected, but he could feel his control growing sharper with every encounter.
The ring pulsed softly, its warmth steady, like approval.
"Hey," a voice said, pulling him from his thoughts.
He looked up to see Ryu Ahra, standing there with a hesitant smile. Taemin's son, Jin, stood beside her.
"You were amazing out there," Ahra said, her voice carrying genuine admiration. "Even from the stands, it was—" she paused, searching for the word, "—different. It felt like you weren't fighting to win. You were… testing something."
Shin smiled faintly. "You noticed."
Jin nodded. "Your mana patterns didn't fluctuate. You're controlling flow better than anyone I've seen at our level."
Shin tilted his head. "You two seem to be improving as well."
Ahra brightened. "We've been training every night. I—I want to prove I belong here. That I'm not…" Her voice wavered, but she steadied herself. "...my father's shadow."
Shin's chest tightened. He wanted to tell her she didn't need to prove anything. But he couldn't—not yet.
"Then keep going," he said instead. "And don't hold back. The academy only respects strength."
Jin grinned. "Guess that means we'll all be in the finals, huh?"
Shin looked between them — the daughter of his past self, the son of his old comrade — both walking the same path he once bled on.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "We will."
That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the academy's announcement screens flickered to life.
Round Two Matches Posted.
Shin glanced at the list. His next opponent was another Class C student, a spear-user with a reputation for brute power. But what caught his attention wasn't his name — it was the final line of the chart.
Exhibition Match — Class D vs Class A
Lee Shin vs Lee Rion
The courtyard fell silent as students read the update.
Whispers spread like wildfire.
"They're pitting brothers against each other?"
"Half-brothers," someone corrected. "And Rion's Class A."
"Isn't that too much?"
"No. It's perfect."
From the upper balcony, Rion smirked, locking eyes with Shin across the crowd.
"Well, well," Rion murmured. "Finally, the academy sees what I've been waiting for."
Shin didn't react. He simply turned away, walking toward the training hall, his hand brushing against the ring.
It pulsed faintly — not with warmth this time, but with cold anticipation.
So it begins again.