Holding on for dear life, Arthur fought with all he had against the pressure, making sure he didn't fall flat on the ground.
Of the few that held strong, only those from Seraphim were left everyone else was either kneeling like Arthur or flat on the ground.
But none were able to hold on for much longer as even those from Seraphim fell.
All except one.
Standing tall and strong, one lone figure towards the bottom of the amphitheater held firm, almost as if the pressure was nothing at all.
Her sliver hair lay straight, without a strand out of place. Her shoulders were firm and solid, like the pressure was nothing but a summer breeze. At first glance she looked unshakeable but a closer look told a different story.
Her hands along her sides were trembling slightly, proof that even she had her limits.
'It's her, isn't it. Angela Fleming. This generation's Mythic.'
Even braced against the pressure, he still had the mind to note the legendary figure. Angela Fleming the bastard daughter of the royal family and this generation's only Mythic-ranked bloodline user.
Treated as a stain on the royal name her whole life, she had been met with prejudice and made an outcast. Yet here she stood as the strongest first-year.
The teacher of Combat Fundamentals watched Angela with a quiet smile.
Then, without warning, the aura vanished.
A collective groan swept the amphitheater as students tried to gather themselves.
"This is the pressure you will face on the battlefield," she said. "If you can't handle it, look somewhere else. This life isn't made for you."
She walked to the board, picked up a piece of chalk, and wrote in sharp, clean strokes.
'Caroline Ashveil. Former Commander, Siegebreaker Brigade.'
"Last year my brigade was tasked with going behind enemy lines and cutting off their supply chains to the front. As a reward for that work, I was offered a posting here alongside my husband." She set the chalk down. "A nice retirement, if you ask me."
"But retirement means it's my job to whip you lot into shape. So that's what I'm going to do." She turned to face them fully. "You have five minutes to form groups of five. I don't care if you're from different houses or rival families. I want a balance of range and melee in each group. Hop to."
Like a fever breaking across the amphitheater, every student moved at once.
"Hey, are you a close-range fighter, because I—"
"Yeah, I could join but you should know—"
"Of course you can join."
All around him, people paired off and clustered without a second glance in Arthur's direction, passing him like he wasn't there.
"ARTHUR! ARTHUR!"
He turned toward the voice. Mars was pushing through the crowd with the energy of someone who had just remembered he was the most important person in the room.
"My man! You are the man, you know that? Which is why I, the fabulous Mars, am personally granting you the honor of grouping up with me." He jabbed a thumb at his own chest.
"Sure." Arthur turned away to scan the crowd.
"Wait don't leave me! Mars must have only the best members!"
Arthur ignored him and kept moving.
'If I remember right…'
He spotted his target a moment later.
"Garrett." He walked up to him. "You find a group yet?"
Garrett's expression said it all before he opened his mouth. "No. Every time I ask someone, they're already full or just… don't want me." He said it flat, like he'd stopped being surprised.
Arthur had a good guess why. Harold and Tommy had likely done the rounds early and put enough doubt in the right ears. Nobody liked those two, but enough people respected the threat they represented to stay cautious.
"Join mine," Arthur said simply. "I've got room."
Garrett blinked. "You sure? I don't want to get you in trouble."
"You won't." Arthur was already turning. "As even with you I need another two, but I think I know just who to add."
He glanced over his shoulder and immediately caught Amy, hovering at the edge of the crowd near the Watchers section, pretending to study the stone floor.
"Amy." He didn't raise his voice. "You can come join us; you don't have to hover."
She startled like he'd tapped her on the shoulder. "I wasn't— I mean— I was just looking for—"
"Amy."
She closed her mouth and walked over, cheeks faintly pink.
Mars leaned toward Arthur the moment she was close enough. "She's cute," he muttered under his breath.
"Don't." Arthur said without looking at him.
"I haven't done anything!"
"Don't."
Mars straightened and smiled at Amy with the energy of someone who had done nothing wrong and intended to keep it that way.
"Right." Arthur counted heads. Mars. Garrett. Amy. Himself. 'One more.'
Four wasn't five. And Caroline Ashveil did not look like a woman who would accept four.
He scanned the remaining students still unmade the ones standing just outside every cluster, getting passed over the same way he had been.
His eyes settled.
His steps gather him forward.
"Hey Arthur, I don't think…"
Before Mars could stop Arthur, he strides forth reaching the lone figure.
She stood at the far edge of the Seraphim section, arms folded, silver hair untouched. Even alone she carried herself like she was exactly where she intended to be. Like standing apart was a choice and not a consequence.
Her gold eyes found him before he opened his mouth.
They weren't warm.
"House Watchers." Not a warm greeting, one more like a label being read off a wall.
"Arthur Webb." He stopped a comfortable distance away. "I see you're short a group."
"I'm aware." The words came out measured, like she was deciding how much of her attention he deserved.
"So am I, so why don't you join me."
Something shifted behind her eyes. Not surprised exactly, more like she was judging him and whatever she should entertain him.
"You're inviting me." Flat and bored as if she was unbothered by the whole thing.
"I am."
"Into a House Watchers group."
"Last I checked you were standing alone in a House Seraphim section," Arthur said. "So, either you join us, or Ashveil pairs you herself. I know which one I'd prefer."
Her jaw tightened just slightly.
'She doesn't like that.'
Not because he was wrong but because he wasn't.
She looked past him once toward his group; Mars already bouncing on his heels, Garrett giving an awkward wave, Amy staring intensely at a fixed point on the ground.
Her gaze came back to Arthur.
"Don't mistake this for approval," she said.
"I wouldn't dream of it."
She walked past him without another word toward the group, shoulders straight, chin up, carrying every inch of her Seraphim bearing like she was doing them all a favor.
'Which she is,' Arthur thought. 'And she knows it.'
He fell into step behind her.
Mars's eyes went wide the moment he clocked who was walking toward them. He grabbed Arthur's sleeve the second he was close enough.
"That's. that's Angela Fleming." His voice dropped to a sharp whisper. "Arthur, that is the Mythic. The Mythic is walking toward us right now."
"I can see that and you know she's joined our group, right?"
"She's in our group?!"
"She is."
Mars turned back to face her arrival with the expression of a man who had just been informed he was meeting royalty and had approximately two seconds to prepare.
Angela stopped in front of the group and said nothing. Just looked at them once, silently judging them.
Garrett offered his hand. "Garrett Voss. Nice to meet—"
"Mm." She looked at Amy next.
Amy gave a small wave. "Amy Everett."
A faint nod.
Mars puffed his chest. "And I am the fabulous—"
"Mars Pyke," Angela said. "House Thrones. Fire martial arts bloodline. I know who you are."
Mars blinked. "Oh."
"You were the loudest person in the stands during Ashveil's pressure test." Her gold eyes settled on him. "It wasn't a compliment."
Mars opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Arthur watched him struggle with himself and lose.
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