I opened my eyes, feeling the uncomfortable surface of the bed. And I thought motel beds were bad. The room swayed gently with the waves, the wood creaking beneath me.
I sat up, pulled on my damaged vest. It was torn, stained, held together by memory more than thread. But it still served a purpose. I grabbed my claymore and left.
The hallway was empty. Everyone was resting. Four hours of straight fighting would drain anyone.
I climbed to the top deck.
Two figures moved in the gray morning light—Dominio and Aurelia, sparring.
A massive orb of water hovered above Aurelia's head, ice blades forming and launching in rapid succession. Dominio moved through them like smoke. White aura trailed behind him, circling Aurelia at impossible speed. I couldn't track his body—only the blur of his Lumin.
Aurelia swung her wand down. The orb crashed to the deck. Ice spikes erupted from the splash, jagged and sudden. Dominio landed on one, crouched, his shoulder bleeding where a spike had caught him.
"Crap, you actually got me." He pressed a hand to the wound. "Did your Lumin reserves increase?"
"I read more spell books. Practiced last night." She turned and noticed me. "Oh, hey Zain."
She seemed different. Warmer. I'd only seen her cold side—the calculated mage who'd helped Dominio almost kill Rela. This version was almost... lively. Good to know. Her cold side was intimidating.
I walked toward them. Dominio had already stripped off his vest and wrapped it around his shoulder. Did he know there was a med bay below deck? Or was he just too lazy to walk down?
"Have you considered the alliance?" Aurelia asked. "And your friend—has she considered it?"
I looked at her. Dominio stood behind her, hands in his pockets.
"I'd say yes if I were you." His voice was casual, but his eyes weren't. "People are already forming factions."
"How do you know?"
I met his gaze. His Lumin pulsed faintly—a slow, deliberate rhythm. Not aggression. Just presence. A reminder.
My body tensed. My hand moved toward my claymore.
He noticed. His hand drifted behind his back, toward his dagger. "Thought fighting that Zendorian and his priest would be a good icebreaker. Guess not."
"I didn't start this." I kept my voice level. "You did. You released your Lumin."
His aura flickered. Testing. Probing.
I grasped the hilt. My own aura rose to meet his. Purple against white. We held there, neither pushing, neither retreating.
Aurelia stood between us, arms crossed. Calm. Almost bored. Her eyes moved from me to Dominio and back, but she didn't intervene.
What is she planning?
I shifted my stance. Lower. Ready.
If Dominio wanted to fight, I was ready.
The moment stretched. Neither of us moved.
Then Aurelia sighed.
---
"Stop the fighting, will you? It's a time of peace."
We turned.
The main door had opened. A crowd filed out—dozens of rookies, filling the deck. At their center walked a man with no arms.
He wore a rounded cap with a small brim that shadowed his face. His robes were simple, pale, the sleeves pinned at the shoulders. He moved slowly, deliberately, like someone who had learned to be patient.
"Oh, it's you." Aurelia's voice was flat. Annoyed. She knew him.
Dominio was already moving. He appeared in front of the man, dagger pressed to his throat. The rookies behind him stiffened, hands moving to weapons, but the man didn't flinch. Didn't even blink.
Golden light pulsed from his shoulders—two arms of pure Lumin forming where flesh should have been. Aurelia's eyes widened.
"Dominio, move. Now."
He jumped back, dagger raised, his face more annoyed than afraid.
The man's golden arms folded in front of him. Calm. Controlled. His face was still hidden beneath the cap.
Dominio glanced at me. "If I were you, I'd get ready to fight. This guy's a threat. A big threat."
Aurelia raised her wand. It dissolved into mist, swirling around her arms before solidifying into gauntlets of pale ice.
I drew my claymore.
The three of us faced the crowd. Dominio's white aura flared beside me. Aurelia's ice gleamed blue. My purple Lumin bled from the blade.
The man stepped forward. Behind him, the rookies tensed, their exhaustion forgotten. Some of them looked tired—dark circles under their eyes, bandages still fresh—but they were ready. All of them.
Dozens of them.
"Who are you?" I asked.
He removed his cap.
Golden eyes met mine. Fiery. Ancient. A necklace around his throat pulsed with the same light, the stone at its center burning like a captured sun.
"I am Rowan Raleteer." His voice was quiet, but it carried. "Leader of the Eighty. And I have come to bring order to this wretched exam."
The rookies behind him raised their weapons.
His eyes locked onto mine.
"For you have committed a grave sin."
Tears rolled down his face. Not anger. Grief.
"You murdered the scribe of the Sun God."
My hands shook. Veins bulged in my forearms. My jaw tightened.
Solorus. Again. Always. How many people worshipped a god who turned the dead to gold?
"Is it the wealth?" My voice came out low. Rough. "The power? You sacrifice people—innocent people—and call it a blessing."
I raised my claymore, pointing it at his chest.
"Bastards like you don't belong in this exam."
His face was calm. But beneath it—I could see it now—something was building. A storm behind those golden eyes.
"If you're here to spread the word of that bastard son of a bitch..." Lumin surged through my blade, through my body, through my rage. "THEN DIE LIKE THAT PRIEST AND HIS DAMN BODYGUARD!"
Silence.
The waves lapped against the hull. The wind pulled at our clothes.
Rowan stared at me. His expression didn't change—but something in his eyes cracked.
"Heresy."
His voice was barely a whisper.
"Heresy."
Louder now. His golden arms spread wide.
"Heresy."
Light bloomed from his shoulders. New arms formed—three on each side, six in total—brilliant gold, radiating heat and fury.
"Do you know what is worse than such a sin?"
The rookies behind him braced themselves. Some were scared. But none of them ran.
"BLASPHEMY!"
His voice crashed over us like a wave.
And the battle began.