Lyle hadn't slept.
Not really.
Even after the Codex quieted and the vision faded, his body hummed with something restless—like he was still halfway in that burning city, still hearing Lysera's voice over the roar of arcane collapse.
He kept seeing it: the great library turned to rubble, the towering spells breaking apart mid-air, and the look in her eyes just before the world erased her.
He'd woken before dawn with the same message echoing in his mind.
> Grow in silence. Strike in light.
The summons to the courtyard came before breakfast. No one spoke as they formed rows. There was too much at stake.
They all knew what Joint-Division Challenge meant.
Cross-division teams. Live combat. No interference. You were either seen—or forgotten.
Lyle stood in his assigned row, the sunlight cutting harsh across the stone as names began to appear above their heads. One by one, the pairings flashed into being.
Greenbottle, Lyle – Partnered with: Arkvale, Juno
He didn't flinch.
But his stomach sank.
Of course it would be her.
She approached like a blade wrapped in flesh—athletic, efficient, and already annoyed. Her black combat vest hugged lean muscle, and her gauntlets clicked softly when she adjusted them.
"Seriously?" she muttered, glancing him up and down. "You're the one they stuck me with?"
Lyle offered a faint smile. "If it makes you feel better, I was hoping for someone worse."
She didn't laugh. Not even close.
"Don't talk. Don't fall behind. And if you panic, just stay out of my way."
He nodded, grateful she hadn't asked about the dungeon again. Most cadets had stopped after the "panic awakening" story made its rounds.
The truth was harder to believe.
A slow descent through a gated tunnel brought them to the trial zone. No fanfare. No cheering instructors. Just footsteps. Dry wind. And the growing pressure in the air like something ancient was waiting to exhale.
Juno took the lead as the path opened into a scorched canyon bathed in ruddy light.
The terrain was chaos—ridges split from one another, lava flows occasionally bubbling between cracks. Black rock towered upward in strange twisted shapes, like claws reaching out of the ground.
Lyle followed, scanning with more than his eyes.
The Codex hummed quietly inside his chest. He could feel movement nearby—like static across his skin. His upgraded perception tingled every time a shift of stone or flicker of light played across the edge of his vision.
Then came the low click of claws on rock.
"Left," Lyle said quietly.
Juno moved before he finished the word.
Three iron jackals leapt from a high ledge, their metallic forms shimmering red with core light. Their eyes locked onto Juno, fast and focused.
She charged.
No hesitation. No calls for a plan.
She caught the first jackal's leap head-on, redirected the weight into a side roll, and slammed her elbow into the second mid-air. Her gauntlet glowed from the absorption—she was storing the momentum.
The third one pivoted and went for Lyle.
He stepped backward.
Raised his wand.
> Don't make it clean. Let it look like luck.
He aimed wide and fired. The arcane bolt fizzled slightly—enough to distract, but not enough to harm. The construct stumbled.
Juno appeared a heartbeat later and struck it down.
She stood over the smoking pile of parts and turned her head just enough to speak. "Miss again like that and I'll assume you're aiming at me."
"I'm working on my dramatic timing."
Her eyes lingered. Then she moved on.
He exhaled through his nose and followed.
They crossed a narrow path next, the cliff sloping downward to a fractured bridge. Wind roared through the canyon pass ahead, sending dust swirling in harsh little bursts.
As they neared the next clearing, Lyle caught it—movement, heavier this time.
Not fast like the jackals.
He reached forward, gently tapped her shoulder.
She tensed.
"Big," he said. "Straight ahead. Four-limbed. Close."
Juno nodded once. "Golem."
They slowed, crouching as they rounded a jutting spike of basalt.
It stood in the middle of the ravine—twelve feet tall, armored like a bunker with four spiked arms and a rotating core in its chest that pulsed like a heart.
Juno whispered, "You stay. I move."
He stayed.
Watched.
She leapt off a chunk of broken terrain and hit the thing in the chest with a full-powered shoulder slam. The golem barely flinched.
One arm lashed out, slamming her backward. She took the hit, let it push her, and stored the kinetic energy in her core bands.
The next strike came too fast.
Lyle was already casting.
> [Codex Rune: Instability – Ground Pulse Sigil]
He whispered it beneath his breath and stamped his heel into the earth.
Just enough to shift the golem's footing.
It faltered.
Juno came up and released the full charge into the thing's core.
Boom.
It toppled.
When the dust cleared, she turned back to him, her arms tensed and shining.
"You didn't say anything."
Lyle blinked. "I tripped."
She didn't smile, but she didn't argue either.
They moved on.
Climbed a narrow rise, ducked through a collapsed arch, and passed what looked like old battle ruins—melted metal, frozen glass veins through the rock.
Juno touched one wall briefly.
"Ancient."
Lyle said nothing. But the Codex stirred.
> [Arcai Seal Detected – Inert. Legacy Field: Neutralized]
He looked away.
---
They finally found a spot to rest near the top of a wind-carved ridge.
Juno sat first. Didn't speak. Just stared out over the jagged battlefield below them.
Lyle sat beside her, watching the lava haze shift in the distance.
"You don't flinch," she said at last. "Not like a panic mage."
He shrugged. "Maybe I just hide it better."
Her eyes narrowed. She didn't push.
She didn't have to.
He could feel her growing suspicion like pressure on his skin.
Still, she stood and dusted off her hands.
"That was round one," she said. "Let's see what round two tries."
As she walked ahead, Lyle leaned against the warm stone and looked toward the rising ledges beyond.
And for a second, just a second, he smiled to himself.
> Let them underestimate me. I'm getting stronger every time I hold back.