Elijah stepped out of the ring, jaw throbbing and pride stinging a little less than his face. He caught Tim's eye and gave a shrug, trying to play it off.
Tim met him halfway, tossing him a rag from his bag. "You looked like a baby giraffe trying to brawl out there."
Elijah dabbed the sweat off his brow and smirked. "Yeah? Well that baby giraffe just made Claro hit the floor."
Tim chuckled. "True. Never thought I'd see the day. I think I saw steam coming out of his ears."
"Think I've earned a nap for that one," Elijah muttered, rotating his jaw with a wince.
"Nah, no naps yet. I'm about to show you how the pros handle things," Tim said, cracking his knuckles.
"Pro, huh? Didn't you sprain your wrist opening a locker last week?"
"That locker was booby-trapped, and you know it."
They both laughed, but their attention was pulled by the low rumble of boots against the floor. A broad-shouldered student stepped into the ring, smirking at Tim.
"Hey Thomas. You ready to finally lose in front of your little fan club?" the guy jeered, his arms sheathed in a subtle gray gleam—his skin shifting into a rocky texture as he clenched his fists.
Tim stretched dramatically. "Please. You're just mad your last win was against a first-year with stage fright."
"Ooooh," some of the students in the back echoed.
Sergeant Arti clapped his massive hands together. "Less barking. More bruising. Step in or step aside."
Tim gave Elijah a wink. "Watch closely. This is how you graduate from giraffe to gorilla."
"Just don't vibrate yourself into a nosebleed again."
"No promises."
Tim stepped into the ring, and the tension snapped into place.
"Rockskin, huh?" Elijah muttered looking at Tim's opponent.
Tim grinned as he rolled his shoulders, already pulsing with confident energy. "Let's make this quick, Boulder Boy."
"Oh, I plan to," Brax replied. "Hope your teeth are insured."
Sergeant Arti called, "Begin!"
Brax charged like a living tank, fists clenched and aimed at Tim's ribs. Tim darted sideways, each step reverberating through the ground as he activated his vibration ability. The air shimmered faintly around him.
Brax swung a heavy punch—Tim ducked and tapped his opponent's arm with two fingers. A pulse of vibrational force rippled through Brax's bicep, and he stumbled.
Tim didn't let up. He delivered a rapid series of palm strikes—each laced with short bursts of controlled vibration—targeting joints and pressure points. Brax tried to counter, but his movements became increasingly sluggish.
Finally, Tim pivoted behind him, tapped both knees with a strong vibrational pulse, and Brax collapsed to the mat, groaning.
"Match concluded!" Arti barked. "Thomas wins. Efficient use of disruption."
Tim raised both fists like a champion, then jogged back up to Elijah, still panting.
"Did you see that? I call that move 'Fault Line Shuffle.' You like it?"
"You named your attacks?" Elijah asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course I do. I'm building a brand."
Elijah just shook his head, smiling as they walked toward sixth period.
6th Period – Enhancement Techniques
Instructor: Mr. Clancy
By the time they arrived for their final class of the day, Elijah felt like his body had aged ten years. The Enhancement Techniques room was less a classroom and more a specialized gym—full of weighted training gear, mana resistance bands, rune-inscribed balance beams, and other contraptions that looked more like medieval torture devices than educational tools.
The moment they stepped in, a hulking man near the center turned toward them. Mr. Clancy.
His muscles were absurd—coiled power wrapped in a sleeveless training tunic. Despite his bulk, he moved with the fluid grace of someone who could probably snap a tree in half with a somersault.
"Elijah Eneri?" he said, voice like gravel under pressure.
Elijah straightened up instinctively. "Y-Yes, sir."
Clancy studied him for a moment, then nodded once. "Newly awakened. You're behind, but not hopeless. You'll be doing remedial endurance drills until I say otherwise."
Elijah nodded quickly. "Understood."
Clancy cracked a smile. "Good. I like quiet ones. They're usually the ones who give the biggest surprises."
He turned to address the rest of the class. "Get to your stations. Enhancers don't grow by whining."
As students rushed to obey, Elijah and Tim exchanged glances.
"This is gonna hurt, isn't it?" Elijah asked.
"Every second," Tim replied, already strapping on mana-weighted gloves. "But hey—Clancy's the real deal. If you survive his class, you'll actually be dangerous."
Elijah moved toward the open corner where some of the heavier training gear sat.
He wasn't just here to survive anymore.
He was here to rise.
The Enhancement Techniques class was all about pushing the boundaries of what the human body could handle—endurance, precision, raw output. For most students, that meant advanced mana infusion techniques: reinforcing limbs to shatter stone, enhancing reflexes to dodge high-speed projectiles, or conducting complex movement drills that required balancing brute strength with pinpoint control. Tim was mid-run on a course that launched metal spheres at him from multiple angles—he'd coat his legs in vibrating mana to burst into sprints, then pulse his hands just enough to redirect incoming strikes without overextending. Claro, in contrast, was all aggression—running sets of heavy impact gauntlet strikes while maintaining continuous mana output, building concussive force with each swing.
Elijah, meanwhile, stood off to the side, facing a much more humble setup.
His first assigned exercise was simple on paper: stick his hand to a vertical board using his ability, then slowly channel mana down his arm and maintain contact while executing small, controlled movements—raising and lowering his body without losing adhesion. The second exercise involved clinging to a moving surface, a suspended panel that rocked gently back and forth. It tested not only his sticking ability, but his sense of balance, control, and stamina as he was told to hold on without locking his elbows or burning through mana reserves too quickly.
Compared to the explosive and elegant techniques happening all around him, Elijah's exercises looked pitiful. But Mr. Clancy watched him carefully, offering brief, gruff corrections when needed.
"Foundational doesn't mean easy," Clancy said once, as Elijah's arm began to shake. "You can't build a fortress on mud."
The drills were exhausting in their own way—subtle, constant, demanding. And though no one else paid him any mind, Elijah could feel the first sparks of mastery beginning to kindle.
Later.
The soreness in Elijah's limbs hadn't faded by the time he sat down in the cafeteria for a quick post-training meal. After all, it was important to get a sufficient amount of nutrition for enhancers. Tim was across from him, wolfing down his third energy bar like he hadn't just pulverized someone an hour earlier.
"Man," Elijah groaned. "Every part of me hurts."
"That means it's working," Tim said with a grin. "Clancy's class builds monsters."
Elijah cracked a tired smile. "Or turns you into mulch."
Their conversation was cut short by a soft ding from the school's internal mana board. Floating letters appeared in the air above the room—a shimmering display made of light and runes.
Notice: Mid-Year Leaderboard Update – Age 14 Cohort
Students all around them paused mid-bite or mid-sentence as the leaderboard unfolded across the screen. Elijah's heart dropped as he skimmed the rankings.
#1 – Kat Gravelle
#2 – Nolan Quen
#3 – Silas Rence
...
#99 – Claro Varnis
#121 – Timothy Thomas
...
#301 – Elijah Eneri
The last name was barely visible at the very bottom.
Tim leaned over and gave a low whistle. "Man. That's... brutal."
"Last place," Elijah muttered. "Not even a buffer zone."
"You just awakened," Tim offered. "And besides, people rarely jump hundreds of ranks in one semester. You've got time."
"Four months."
Tim blinked. "What?"
"That's how long until the Awakening Exams," Elijah said, still staring at the projection. "Mr. Clancy mentioned them briefly during cooldown. It's our big assessment before the end of the school year."
Tim's face turned more serious. "Oh. Yeah, I forgot it'd be your first."
The Awakening Exams were infamous. Held once a year, they were a series of ranked challenges—duels, endurance trials, team missions, mana control tests—designed to determine where students stood among their peers. Placement on the exams didn't just mean bragging rights; they decided class assignments, resource priority, instructor attention, and even early government or guild recommendations.
Failing meant being written off.
"I need to climb," Elijah muttered. "Even just a little."
From the far corner of the cafeteria, another figure was watching the board.
Claro Varnis stood alone, arms folded, jaw tight. His eyes were locked on Elijah's name—at the bottom—and yet all he could see was that moment in the ring. The slam. The laughter. The shock in the room. That look on Kat's face from the observation deck.
He hadn't even used his ability. He hadn't needed to. But the fact that Elijah had touched him at all…
Disgust twisted Claro's features. "Trash shouldn't land hits," he muttered.
He turned and left before the ranking display faded from view.
That afternoon, Elijah was summoned to the administrative wing. The front desk worker, a sleepy-eyed woman who barely looked up from her paperwork, simply handed him a sealed envelope and pointed him toward Room 2C.
He knocked twice.
"Enter," came a calm, clipped voice from within.
He opened the door to find a small conference room with a single long table. Sitting at the far end was a man in a long navy-blue uniform—an official from the Education Oversight Division, judging by the insignia.
Next to him stood Katherine Gravelle.
Her posture was perfect, arms behind her back, gaze ahead with military-like poise. She was dressed not in a student uniform, but in a sleek black-and-silver coat marked with the Gravelle family crest: a stylized gravitational spiral.
"Elijah Eneri," the official said, adjusting his glasses. "Please have a seat."
He sat, nerves prickling under his skin.
"You've been selected for accelerated peer mentorship," the man continued. "This is part of our leadership development track for elite students, particularly those with government interest or family standing. Miss Gravelle has been assigned as your mentor."
Elijah blinked. "Wait. What?"
The official continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Her responsibility is to guide you through supplemental training, ensure your preparation for the Awakening Exams, and monitor your academic integration. You, in turn, are expected to show steady progress."
Elijah turned to Kat, unsure if he should bow or salute or… something.
Her face remained impassive.
"I wasn't told I'd be mentoring someone this far behind," Kat said, her voice calm but cold.
The official gave a small nod. "It is a test. Of your leadership. And of House Gravelle's ability to shape not just elite talent, but raw potential. The goal is for you to be more than just a powerful weapon, but an effective leader as well."
For a moment, Kat said nothing.
Then her jaw clenched, and her fingers curled into fists at her sides.
"This is ridiculous," she snapped, eyes narrowing. "I've worked too hard to be saddled with—"
She caught herself mid-sentence, inhaled sharply, and closed her eyes for a brief moment. Her fists loosened. Her voice returned to its earlier control.
"…Understood," she said.
The man stood. "Then we're all in agreement. Your sessions will begin tomorrow. Dismissed."
As he exited, the air seemed to still in the small room.
Elijah sat frozen in place, watching Kat with caution. He hadn't expected warmth, but that momentary flash of fury had startled him—less because she raised her voice, and more because of how quickly she strangled it back down.
"I—uh. Thank you?" he offered awkwardly.
She finally turned to look at him. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes carried a weight beyond her years.
"I don't expect gratitude," she said. "I expect you not to waste my time."
Elijah opened his mouth, then shut it again.
Kat turned to leave, then hesitated at the door.
"I saw your fight with Claro," she said, her tone flat again. "Sloppy. Desperate. But not entirely stupid."
With that, she stepped out, her coat billowing slightly behind her.
Elijah exhaled slowly.
"Well," he muttered. "She's gonna be a blast to hang out with."