The dust never settled in the Trial Grounds.
Ash hung in the air like the last breath of a dying titan. Screams echoed through broken monuments and fractured columns. The sounds of the free-for-all were chaotic—metal ringing, spells detonating, bones breaking.
Cassian was still tucked behind the remnants of a mana-infused obelisk, his breath measured, pulse steady. He'd moved three times since the trial began. Every time, closer to the edge of the battlefield. Always in the shadows.
Until now.
A surge of mana blasted through a wall nearby—runic debris scattered in all directions. He ducked instinctively, but the pressure change told him what he needed to know.
Someone had targeted his location.
So much for staying unnoticed.
A shape moved through the smoke.
Fast. Reckless.
A student with a double-bladed glaive charged forward, half of his uniform burned away and eyes manic with desperation. A berserker. Probably already on a losing streak.
"Outta the way, bastard!" the boy yelled. "You're mine!"
Cassian sighed.
He didn't want to engage yet. But the kid wasn't going to give him a choice.
Above the arena, on floating stone platforms, professors and fourth-year elites observed the battlefield through conjured viewing circles.
"Another one's down," Professor Elric muttered, brushing ash from his shoulder. "That makes sixty-three."
"Most of these first-years are swinging mana around like clubs," Kaelis added. "No finesse."
Professor Nyla, a sharp-eyed woman in a white military coat, spoke without looking up. "You're only watching the wrong ones."
She gestured to the northeast quadrant.
Saria Drelheim stood over three unconscious students, her braid glowing faintly with ember threads.
"Phoenix bloodline," Elric murmured. "She's controlling it well."
"Her mana discipline is sharp," Nyla said. A "rank potential, and it shows."
Kaelis snorted. "Let's not forget the golden boy."
All heads turned to the southern arena.
Ren Arkwright moved like a phantom, disarming opponents in fluid, practiced motions. His blade shimmered with restrained power—never excessive, always clean.
"He's already eliminated over fifteen students," said one of the fourth-years, arms crossed. "Not even breathing heavy."
"SSS-talent cap," Elric said. "He's a predictable monster."
"His record's flawless," Nyla added. "Let's see if it stays that way."
Back in the smoke, Cassian moved.
The glaive came down.
He sidestepped smoothly and slammed his palm into the berserker's sternum—one fluid motion. Bone cracked. The student collapsed.
Still breathing.
Cassian didn't like how easy it had been.
He ducked into cover again as stray spells exploded nearby. His instincts screamed at him to move, but he froze—feeling something more than danger.
The Codex pulsed faintly inside him.
Again.
"Who's that?" Kaelis asked, pointing at a projection. "Gray-eyed boy just dropped that berserker like it was nothing."
Elric pulled up the status. "Cassian Caldus. G-rank entry. Unawakened bloodline."
"Looks like background filler," a fourth-year said dismissively.
Kaelis narrowed his eyes. "He moved like someone trained. Not a prodigy, but… deliberate."
"I'll keep an eye on him," Nyla said. "Low-profile ones tend to explode later."
Elsewhere, chaos intensified.
A streak of midnight-blue magic surged through the air. A flash of movement followed it—a tall girl with silver hair and angular eyes, spinning a dual chain-scythe with terrifying elegance.
"Elowen Vire," Professor Nyla called out. "Talent cap S. Bloodline of Thanara, Goddess of the Eclipse."
"She's got poise," Elric admitted. "And a streak of sadism."
"She doesn't kill," Kaelis noted. "But she always maims."
To the west, a thick line of frost carved a trench into the battlefield.
At its center stood a boy with platinum-blond hair and gauntlets coated in ice. His aura was cold—controlled.
"That's Aeris Greythorn," Elric said. "Bloodline of Boreas. S+-talent limit."
"He's frighteningly precise," one of the fourth-years muttered. "And dead calm. Almost too calm."
"His file says he never speaks unless necessary," Kaelis added. "Cold efficiency."
Another battle erupted near the center.
A red-haired boy ducked under a lightning strike, then surged forward with a blazing fist—his punches leaving molten craters.
"Kael Voss," Nyla identified. "Talent cap S. Inherited the Wrathfire Bloodline."
Elric frowned. "Temper issues. But raw force."
"He'll burn out or break through," said Kaelis. "Depends on whether he learns restraint."
One last tremor rippled through the arena.
In the eastern ruins, where students had avoided for fear of collapsing magic traps, a girl in all-black robes walked calmly through the chaos. Her shadow moved differently—twisting against the light.
"That's... her," Nyla said with a sharp inhale.
"Lira Ashveil," Kaelis confirmed. "SS-rank cap. Bloodline of Nyx, Goddess of Veils."
"She didn't even register on the early scans," Elric muttered. "She's been hiding in plain sight."
"She is a veil," Nyla said softly. "Let's see what she becomes."
And through it all, Cassian watched.
Noticed them.
Measured them.
Ren. Saria. Elowen. Aeris. Kael. Lira.
Each one had presence.
Each one belonged.
And yet… none of them knew what this trial was really hiding.