The courtyard had thinned after the last sparring session, though it still carried the restless energy of clashing wood and strained breaths. A handful of students filed out with relieved looks, their lesson finished for the day. The ones who remained stood in a loose semicircle around the instructor, waiting. Gray noticed more figures trickling in from a side gate, fresh faces who had been pulled from other groups. He scanned the crowd instinctively for Renn, Adel, or Korr, but none of them were there. He realized the academy must have split them up deliberately, sorting each into different streams.
The instructor clapped his hands once, sharp and commanding, drawing all eyes to him. His voice carried over the space like a hammer striking iron.
"Those of you who are still here are the ones who chose to focus on Vyre and Affinity combat. That means we go deeper. The rest have gone to other classes. You remain."
Gray shifted where he stood beside Aurelle, settling his arms loosely at his sides.
"Listen carefully," the man continued, his gaze sweeping over them. "You already know the basics of channelling Vyre. Today, we talk about skills and relics. Tools that can turn a fight upside down if used correctly. And if used incorrectly, can get you killed faster than you can blink."
A hush rolled through the group.
"There are three main types of skills," the instructor said, raising one finger at a time. "First, conditional skills. These require specific circumstances to trigger. Emotion, a stance, an oath, a specific feeling. Without the condition, they will not activate. Second, constant channeling skills. These drain Vyre continuously but grant a lasting effect. As long as you can sustain it, you maintain the power. The moment you cannot, the skill collapses. Third, catalytic skills. These are the most straightforward—Vyre is the spark, and the effect comes forth instantly. No ongoing drain, no complex condition. Simple cause and effect."
Gray's eyes narrowed slightly. His mind ran through his own repertoire. 'Severing Bloom… conditional. It needs pain, and it drinks Vyre when triggered. Frozen Veins… constant channeling. It feeds and takes. But without cold to empower it, it is nearly useless here.' He ground his teeth faintly. Almost useless… almost.
The instructor moved on without pause. "Then we have relics. Some of you may have heard of them, others not. Relics are not toys. They are extensions of your soul. Forged, earned, or bought, though the last will bleed your coffers dry. They can be summoned at will, and most carry unique effects you cannot replicate through training alone. They are rare. Rarer than most of you think. Keep them safe. If a relic is damaged or lost, you lose more than an object—you can lose a piece of yourself."
A murmur rippled through the courtyard. Several students nodded knowingly, as if they had heard the same warnings from family or mentors.
The instructor raised a hand again, silencing them. "Now. Vyre. You think you know it, but you have only scratched the surface. Vyre flows through three parts of you—the soul, the core, and the veins. You have heard this already, I am sure. Veins burn if overused. Cores can fracture if you channel too much too quickly. That is the simple truth. Most of you are young enough to ignore these limits, until the day you collapse."
Gray leaned back slightly, letting the words wash over him. He had already learned that much, the hard way. But remembering Variks state made him almost feel the pain again.
"But the soul," the man continued, and his tone dropped to something heavier, darker, "the soul is different. Damage the soul, and you damage yourself permanently. Some affinities can target it directly. Rare, yes, but not mythical. If you fight someone with such power, my advice is simple. Run. Live to fight another day. Do not test yourself against something meant to unmake you."
Gray stilled. The words burrowed into him like thorns. 'So there really are affinities that can touch the soul directly… if Severing Bloom strikes at bonds, could it one day reach that far?' He clenched his jaw, refusing to dwell on the thought.
"Affinities themselves," the instructor said, sweeping the subject along, "fall into three categories: primary, sub, and hybrid. Primary affinities are the raw elements you all know—fire, water, earth, and the like. Sub affinities are offshoots. Wood from nature, ash from flame, dust from stone. Weaker, usually, but have their uses. Hybrids are more dangerous. They combine two domains at equal strength. Example: Acidflame. Both acid and fire, woven into one strain of control. Such individuals are rare."
Gray perked up faintly. 'Ironbody… that sounds exactly like Korr.' Guess he really is a hybrid. No wonder he feels different than the rest.
The instructor finished with a slow breath. "And then, there is strain resonance. You tested it once before. Today, we test again. Resonance measures how well your soul and your strain are aligned. The higher the number, the stronger the bond—and the greater your potential. It shifts with time, training, and willpower. But it is the one measure you cannot fake. When you stand against others, this is the silent weight pressing on your back."
He pointed toward the far end of the courtyard where attendants rolled out a heavy stone pedestal. Atop it rested a smooth crystal orb, faintly glowing from within.
"Step forward one at a time. Hands on the orb. Let it measure you."
A girl went first. The orb pulsed faintly, then a number flared above it. Seventy-one. She exhaled, smiling faintly, and stepped back. The line continued.
Gray's turn came sooner than expected. He placed his hands on the cool surface, feeling it suck faintly at his soul. The last time he had stood here, the number had stopped at fifty-nine. He braced himself. The glow swelled. Sixty-one. Sixty-two. Sixty-three. The light steadied.
He pulled his hands back, heart drumming. Four points higher. Not bad. But compared to some of the others…
Lira stepped forward a few turns later. Gray found himself watching her too closely, noting how her hair caught the light now. She pressed her palms to the orb. The number flickered. Seventy-three. Only a slight increase, but still far above most. She accepted it with calm detachment, her eyes sliding briefly toward him before turning away.
Then the white-haired boy approached. His presence alone drew a hush. He placed his hand down casually, as if he already knew what would come. The orb ignited. Eighty. Eighty-one. Eighty-two. It steadied.
Murmurs broke out immediately.
"Impossible…"
"He cannot be rank one with that score."
"Who is he?"
Gray swallowed hard. 'Eighty-two? That is… monstrous.'
Finally Aurelle stepped forward. He laid his hand down, but the orb flickered strangely. The light dimmed, shimmered, then turned opaque. The instructor leaned close, muttered something under his breath, and then dismissed him without showing the number.
Whispers broke out like wildfire.
"Did he fail?"
"Maybe his resonance is too low."
"No… maybe it is broken."
Gray frowned, eyes narrowing. No way. Aurelle is hiding something. Whatever the score was, it was not bad.
The instructor clapped again, cutting through the noise.
"Enough. You have your numbers. Next, strength. You will fight, one against one. Vyre is permitted. Skills are permitted. Show us the truth of what you have learned. But remember—this is still training. Do not lose yourselves to it."
A hush of anticipation fell over the courtyard.
The instructor reached into a small pouch, withdrew slips of parchment, and began to read names at random. His voice rang out like a gavel.
"First up…"
He paused, unfolding one slip slowly.
"…Gray."
A ripple went through the students, heads turning in unison. Gray felt his heart skip once, then pound heavily in his chest. The ground seemed to shift beneath his feet as the courtyard opened before him.
'Ahh come on are you being for real?'
He stepped forward, silent, waiting for the name of his opponent.