Mist softened the morning sunlight over Ashford Heath's village green, spilling gold on the students gathered outside the schoolhouse. Clad in training gear, they shifted, murmurs hushed under expectation's weight. Michael and Leon stood apart—resolve marking them as much as fate.

  Michael flexed his left hand, healed by Joyce's care, though a faint itch lingered—a scar's echo from last night's divinity pleas. Beside him, Leon bore a hulking contraption on his back, its coils and levers upgraded overnight, a steel beast dwarfing his earlier model. It bristled with bolts, drawing eyes.

  "Must you drag that infernal thing everywhere?" Michael muttered, keeping his voice low.

  "You'll thank me later," Leon returned, adjusting the straps. His words carried an edge of levity, yet his gaze was keen, assessing their surroundings. Most particularly, he studied Aiden Gale-Warden, the emissary from the Citadel, who stood at the schoolhouse door addressing the gathered students.

  Aiden cut a striking figure, his sandy hair swept back as if wind-bowed. His light tunic bore no trace of armor, his stance one of effortless poise, his movements those of a man who had made his body an instrument of precision. Leon's eyes narrowed. The man was fast—very fast. It was evident in the balance of his weight, the looseness of his hands, ever prepared for action.

  "We proceed as we practiced," Leon murmured, low enough for Michael alone to hear.

  Michael gave a curt nod, ceasing his fidgeting, allowing resolve to settle in its place.

  Aiden stepped forward, his gaze sweeping the assembled students like a blade through air. "Two classes," he began, his voice calm yet charged with an authority that allowed no dissent. "You will be divided as usual, though I note a certain disparity in size." His eyes lingered on the smaller group—Michael and Leon among them—before he continued, "But size will be of no consequence in what follows."

  Uneasy glances passed among the students. Aiden gestured for them to follow him inside, where the desks had been cleared, the space transformed into an arena of sorts. Sunlight streamed through the windows, serene in its indifference to the tension that thickened the air.

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  "This is the first of three tests," Aiden announced, his tone even, yet edged with something steely. "A test of physical ability, adaptability, and courage. You may employ any tools or skills at your disposal, but your goal is singular: harm me."

  A hush fell.

  "If you do not attempt to kill me," Aiden continued, his voice unyielding, "it is unlikely you will pass."

  A shiver passed through the gathered students. Even the instructors exchanged uneasy glances.

  "I understand your hesitation," Aiden said, pacing before them like a panther surveying a gazelle. "But let us be clear: this is no longer a school. If you hold back, you fail. If you hesitate, you fail. If you stand idle while others act, you fail."

  Silence met his words, heavier than before.

  "Class 1," he called at last, gesturing toward the larger group. "You will go first."

  The students of Class 1 hesitated, then filed out, their expressions ranging from grim determination to outright dread. Those who remained, including Michael and Leon, were left to wait in the schoolhouse, the sounds of the first test drifting back to them—shouts, impacts, the occasional crash.

  Michael leaned against a desk, scratching at his hand once more. "He means it."

  Leon adjusted the straps of his contraption. "Of course he does. Did you notice? No armor. He's untouchable unless we force him to slow down."

  Michael took a steadying breath. "Then we make him slow down."

  Outside, the tumult of Class 1's trial rose, then quieted. Minutes stretched. Then the door creaked open, and the students of Class 1 stumbled back inside—bruised, battered, and shaken. Some limped, others cradled aching limbs. Their leader, Saul, wore a hollow look where arrogance had once been.

  "We couldn't land a single hit....he's a demon" he muttered, voice trembling.

  The words sent a chill through the room. Michael felt his stomach twist. He glanced at Leon, who studied Saul with calculating intensity.

  "He's in shock," Leon murmured. "He's broken their minds and their bodies".

  Aiden entered, unruffled, untouched, not a hair out of place. He cast his gaze upon the remaining students and smiled faintly.

  "Your turn," he said.

  Michael and Leon exchanged a look. For a moment, neither moved. Then Michael straightened, jaw set, and stepped forward.

  Leon adjusted his device, gears clicking softly. "Ready?"

  "No," Michael admitted. "But let's go anyway."

  Before exiting, Leon plucked his small mechanical companion from his shoulder and knelt. Its glowing green eyes tilted upward in concern.

  "You're staying here," Leon whispered, tightening a small knob on its head.

  The robot beeped in protest, lights blinking yellow in rapid succession.

  "You're too loud for this. And too valuable."

  The little automaton emitted a low, mournful hum, shoulders slumping like a disappointed child. Leon patted its head. "Guard the gear."

  With that, they stepped into the sunlit courtyard. The door creaked shut behind them, leaving the schoolhouse eerily silent once more.