The familiar, boisterous energy of the Adventurers Guild training yard had bled away, leaving an almost unnerving quiet. Late afternoon sun slanted across the packed earth, casting long, skeletal shadows that seemed to hold their breath along with the small audience. Dust motes drifted, oblivious, through the golden shafts of light. In the heavy stillness, the frantic tattoo of William’s own heart against his ribs sounded deafeningly loud. Heart rate: Approximately 135 bpm, his internal analyst noted dryly. Stress levels significantly exceeding optimal parameters. Performance under pressure: data acquisition commencing.

  This wasn't a public spectacle. It was a closed-door performance review with potentially lethal consequences. Borin, the Guildmaster, stood near the edge of the marked combat circle, arms crossed over his chest, his weathered face a granite mask of neutrality. The examiner. Beside him, Julia gripped the top rail of the low fence, knuckles white, her clearly visible anxiety did little to soothe William's own fraying nerves. Observer bias detected: High emotional investment from Stakeholder Julia. Potential impact on subject concentration: Moderate, requires mitigation.

  Opposite William, Yegun Fastblade radiated calm readiness, a stark contrast to William's own rigid posture. The B-Rank adventurer was lean, wiry, built like a spring-steel trap, clad in light leather armour that wouldn't hinder his blinding speed. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, twin practice swords held loosely, almost casually, at his sides. The practice blades were blunted steel, heavier than live weapons, designed to bruise and batter, not slice. EMMA scan confirms: Opponent weapon mass +15% vs standard shortsword parameters, William registered. Estimated impact on swing velocity/recovery timing: measurable, approx. 3-5% reduction. A minuscule variable, but William hoarded data points like a starved man hoarded crumbs. Outclassed in every conventional metric, tiny variables were his only currency.

  William tightened his grip on his own practice longsword. He’d chosen the heavier blade deliberately, its reach offered a theoretical advantage in parrying, compensating for the speed he utterly lacked. It felt clumsy, alien in his sweat-slicked palms. User weapon proficiency: Basic (Generous). Combat effectiveness rating: Approaching zero. His padded leather jerkin felt both suffocatingly tight and laughably thin. Armour effectiveness vs B-Rank kinetic impact: Primarily psychological.

  Yegun’s expression was focused, calm, utterly professional. William had spent the previous day feeding EMMA observational data, analysing every step, every feint. He'd seen the fluid confidence born of ingrained muscle memory and countless victories. He’d also noted the professionalism Borin relied upon. Yegun wouldn’t underestimate this bizarre trial, not with Julia vouching for the F-Rank anomaly. He wouldn't aim to kill, but he would aim to incapacitate, swiftly, efficiently, decisively. Opponent Objective Function: Neutralize target (William) via non-lethal incapacitating strike within minimum time/effort expenditure.

  Borin cleared his throat, the sound cracking through the quiet yard like a whip. “The rules are simple,” he announced, his gravelly voice commanding attention. “No killing blows. No intentional strikes to the head or groin. Blunted weapons only.” He gestured towards a large, ornate sand timer on a nearby table, its upper globe full, poised. “The trial lasts ten minutes, timed precisely. It ends when the timer runs out, or if one combatant yields or is rendered incapable of continuing.”

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  His gaze fixed on Yegun. “Yegun. Your objective is demonstration of superiority. A decisive blow, a clear incapacitation that, with live steel, would end a fight.” Then, his sharp, appraising eyes shifted to William. “William. Your objective is simpler, and perhaps harder. Survive. Remain conscious and mobile for the full ten minutes.”

  He let the silence stretch, heavy with implication. “Do you both understand?”

  William nodded, his throat tight and dry. He forced his breathing into a slower, more controlled rhythm, fighting the tremor in his hands. He activated EMMA's core systems, bringing the internal heads-up display online. System check: Green. HP: 150/150 Mana: 100/100. Timer overlay initialized: 10:00. Predictive trajectory module: Standby. Threat analysis module: Standby. He kept the active processing minimal, conserving precious mana until the moment Yegun committed. Engage mana conservation protocol. Activate analysis modules on initiation of hostile action.

  Yegun gave a crisp, affirmative nod.

  With a sharp gesture from Borin, an unseen mechanism tipped the sand timer. The first grains began to fall. “Begin!”

  600 seconds, William thought, his focus narrowing, the background noise of his own anxiety fading slightly behind the wall of analytical concentration. Against that. He braced himself, expecting the immediate, overwhelming rush, the blur of motion Borin had promised. Predict impact vectors, prioritize evasion, maintain defensive shell…

  But Yegun didn't explode forward.

  Instead, the B-Rank adventurer began to circle. Slowly. Deliberately. His movement was liquid, predatory, each step measured, his eyes narrowed slightly, scanning William from head to toe. He was taking in the stance, the unfamiliar grip on the longsword, the rigid set of William’s shoulders, the unnatural stillness that contrasted with the barely concealed tension. Yegun wasn't rushing; he was gathering data, mirroring William's own actions from the previous day.

  Tactical deviation detected, William’s mind flashed. Expected immediate aggression; receiving cautious assessment phase. Hypothesis: Opponent evaluating unknown variable (me) before committing resources. Potential psychological warfare component detected. Adjust defensive algorithm: Maintain posture, conserve energy, prioritize continuous observation, mirror opponent's pacing. This was almost worse than an instant attack. The waiting. The intense scrutiny. It was a test of nerve, designed to provoke an error, reveal a weakness.

  William held his ground, forcing himself to match Yegun’s slow orbit, keeping the practice sword held ready in a stable, two-handed guard. Breathe in, breathe out. Fight the urge to react, to fidget, to fill the silence with pointless movement. He tracked Yegun’s every micro-adjustment, the shift of weight onto the ball of his foot, the slight tightening of his grip, the flicker of his gaze assessing William’s balance. He’s looking for tells, just as I predicted.

  The silence stretched, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the soft scuff-scuff of their boots on the packed earth. The sun beat down relentlessly. A bead of sweat traced a stinging path into William's eye. He blinked it away, refusing to break focus. Near the edge, Julia was frozen, her knuckles bone-white on the railing. Borin remained impassive, a stone sentinel judging the proceedings. The sand in the timer flowed silently, each grain a mocking reminder of the time yet to endure.

  09:45

  Still circling. Yegun, a picture of patient, coiled lethality. William felt pinned, dissected by that unwavering gaze. Maintain defensive integrity. Do not provide actionable data points. Force opponent initiative.

  09:30

  Thirty seconds crawled by like thirty minutes. 570 seconds remaining. William’s muscles, already strained from yesterday’s practice, began to burn from holding the ready stance. Adrenaline dumped into his system, a bio-chemical flood uselessly seeking an outlet. This, he thought, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against the cage of his ribs, is going to be the longest ten minutes of my statistically improbable life.