The next day came colder than expected.
Not weather-wise. The sun still rose behind a scattered haze of early summer clouds, spilling warm light across the towering canopy of the Sylvan Grounds. But there was a quiet weight in the air—like the forest itself was holding its breath.
Students gathered in droves.
Uniforms of different trims, colors, and ranks dotted the wilderness clearing like patches of living banners. Some squads huddled, reviewing last-minute strategy. Others stretched with overconfidence, laughter and bragging echoing under the trees.
Far beyond them, in a circular stone platform elevated slightly above the rest of the crowd, a slender figure adjusted her clipboard.
Professor Elyra.
Sharp-featured, cool-toned, hair pulled back in a braid that glowed faintly with arcane runes, she scanned the growing mass of students with eyes like polished opal. She didn't smile. She didn't have to.
Beside her stood someone entirely different.
Izanami Yuki.
Wearing the sleek blazer of the Radio Club—though slightly modified for movement—and a thin headset wrapping around her jaw, Yuki looked like she'd just stepped off the cover of a frozen fashion magazine. Her silver-white hair shimmered softly, brushing her jaw. One eye glowed faint crimson. The other—gray and unreadable—was locked straight ahead.
She didn't move much.
Didn't smile.
Didn't fidget.
Just stood, waiting.
A moment later, a soft chime rang through the entire field as hidden speakers activated—subtle magic woven through the trees.
Then her voice came through. Smooth. Crisp. Dangerous in its calm.
"This is Asterblume Field Transmission. All participants, prepare to assemble. The selection trial will begin shortly."
The crowd shifted.
Some younger students whispered to each other, eyeing Yuki.
"Isn't that the radio girl?"
"Why's she announcing here? She's scary…"
"She looks like she's about to summon a demon and read the weather."
Yuki continued, unbothered.
"Welcome to the preliminary phase before the official bracket is revealed. Today's test is a physical and mental examination of stamina, coordination, and terrain awareness."
Professor Elyra finally stepped forward, her voice cool and projected without aid.
"Contestants will run a designated route—fifty kilometers in total—circling the outer perimeter of Asterblume's territory and returning to this point. There will be magical interference, unpredictable creatures, and terrain variance. This is not just a race."
She paused, letting the air thicken.
"It is survival. Do not fall behind."
Then Yuki again.
No shift in tone. No rise or fall.
"Participants may use personal Pacta, enhancement spells, and tools within the academy's code. If you collapse, raise your hand and trigger your mana beacon. Medical staff will retrieve you."
A moment of silence followed.
Not from technical delay.
Just from her.
Yuki turned slightly to Professor Elyra. Elyra nodded once. That was enough.
Yuki faced the mic again.
"And now, we begin."
She raised one hand, fingers perfectly still.
"Three…"
The countdown pulsed through the air, matching the beat of every student's rising heart.
"Two…"
Some students knelt slightly, tensing like runners in an old-world Olympic sprint.
"One…"
No dramatic scream. No explosion of sound.
Just a single, flat word:
"Go."
The forest exploded into movement.
Dozens of students surged forward at once, their footsteps pounding against the forest path like a stampede made of pride, adrenaline, and way too much energy drink.
Some ran like they were chasing a finish line that owed them money.
Others jogged with forced elegance, keeping up appearances for their watching peers.
And a few—like Rea Caelumotris—just frolicked.
"WOO!! THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! FIFTY KILOMETERS OF PURE CHAOS!" Rea screamed with a grin as wide as her ego, practically skipping forward while tossing her arms in the air.
She ran past three teams like a sugar-powered meteor in pastel boots, startling a bird from a tree and accidentally triggering someone's detection trap in the process.
Behind her, Silas moved in sharp, efficient strides. His pace was steady, his breathing calm, but his eyes were already scanning every shadow, every shimmer in the dirt, every leaf out of place.
"Don't waste energy on theatrics," he muttered as Rea spun mid-run just to wave at a squirrel.
"I'm building morale!" she yelled back. "With style!"
Not far from them, another trio had settled into a synchronized stride.
Rei, with her usual warmth, ran lightly, her movements clean but relaxed—like she was jogging through a summer breeze.
Mika, meanwhile, was complaining without slowing down.
"Ugh, I should've braided my hair. It's sticking to my neck—Rei, I swear to the heavens, if I get a tan line from this track—"
"You look amazing," Rei said cheerfully, not out of flattery but sheer mother-mode instinct.
William jogged silently next to them, hands tucked behind his head like this was some weekend park run. He hummed a little tune under his breath. Not even winded.
Way, way further back, there was Team Blanche.
Or as one might call them: the "We're Not Idiots" squad.
They hadn't sprinted. They didn't explode off the starting line. They just started walking—then trotted into a light, deliberate jog after the first few turns.
Their formation wasn't tight, but it was calm.
Efficient.
Ruka stayed in the center, plushie strapped tight to her arm and her expression nervous, but holding. Vila jogged silently at the right flank, her breath quiet and unbroken. Blanche led with small strides—not commanding, just setting a subtle rhythm. And Yuxin?
Yuxin looked like she was being dragged to a group picnic she didn't sign up for.
"I can't believe we're getting graded for cardio," she muttered, brushing a branch out of her face.
"It's an assessment," Blanche replied coolly. "And it's also a trap."
"Everything here's a trap," Vila added. "Even the grass looks suspicious."
Ruka stumbled slightly on a root, catching herself with a squeak.
"S-shouldn't we… go faster? They're all ahead…"
Yuxin didn't slow her steps.
"Let them tire themselves out. Fifty kilometers isn't a sprint. It's war."
Blanche nodded.
"We observe. We adapt. We preserve energy. The headstart means nothing if they burn out at kilometer twenty."
Yuxin flexed her fingers briefly, letting her shadow dance along the soles of her boots, ready to react at a moment's notice.
"Plus, if anyone's setting traps—"
"We'll see it before they trip it," Vila finished for her, eyes locked forward like a hunting hawk.
There was no rush in them.
Only rhythm.
Only purpose.
Team Blanche wasn't trying to win the first ten kilometers.
They were trying to outlast the battlefield.
And deep in the woods, where the real test waited—stamina wouldn't be the only thing that mattered.
The cheers of spectators had long faded behind the tree line.
Birdsong returned, broken only by the rhythmic crunch of feet on soil and the occasional muttered curse from exhausted runners. Then the path dipped—curving sharply around a bend where white-gloved instructors stood silently behind shimmering arcane barriers.
And then...
Boom.
One of the students ahead shot into the air like a ragdoll catapulted from a carnival ride.
"What the—?!"
"Are you kidding me?!"
The frontmost participants suddenly skidded to a halt—some too late. With loud pops of pressure, glowing sigils exploded across the ground like buried flares, launching unsuspecting students up into the canopy. They didn't get hurt—barriers cushioned the fall—but the impact was enough to erase any sense of dignity.
The first obstacle had arrived.
Landmine Field – Area One: Skybound Trap Zone.
Magically concealed sigils were scattered across the terrain like invisible stars under the dirt. Trigger one, and it'd launch you twenty meters into the sky before bouncing you back like a training dummy. The worst part? You couldn't detect the sigils without Perception-type scanning—or brute memorization.
Silas didn't slow down.
His eyes flickered with silent calculation, and his blade—Judicara—shifted as a translucent card hovered briefly near his fingers:
🜂 [XVII] – The Star: Lucent Tracking.
His next step was perfection. A glowing pulse shot from his sword and illuminated faint footprints left by the trainers who placed the traps.
"Tch. Basic masking patterns. Left. Then three paces forward. Shift right—"
He moved like a machine built for judgment.
Without skipping a beat, he broke through the minefield in a straight, diagonal line—never once triggering a sigil. Not even a blade of grass shifted under his boots.
Seconds later—Rea came spinning through, arms out like a ballerina on caffeine.
"WHEEEEEE~!! I love gravity traps! This one's only got a 2.4-second delay between pulse shifts—someone write that down!"
While everyone else was hesitating, she just skipped over sigils like she had cheat codes printed in her head.
A second student triggered a mine near her.
"Careful! Left foot's a liar!" she chirped, then laughed as they rocketed skyward.
She zigzagged across unstable footing like it was a trampoline park, then casually caught up to Silas mid-field, grinning with wind-whipped cheeks.
Further back, the next coordinated breakthrough came from a trio that knew how to move as one.
Mika, face practically glowing with stage-ready confidence, raised a hand dramatically.
"Auren Shieldbearers! Curtain call, darlings!"
Two radiant knights of light surged ahead, forming a moving phalanx that tripped multiple mines on purpose—clearing a partial path with each blast.
Rei flicked her fingers. Dozens of nearly invisible cyan threads stretched between trees behind the knights, creating tension lines that shifted traps away from key footfalls.
"Will, now."
William, as always, didn't speak.
He drew a bastard sword from his Item Box, then ducked into the gap created by Mika's forward guards. With every trap that triggered, he counterbalanced, stepping into the cleared zone with perfect timing—making room for Rei and Mika to follow.
The trio moved like clockwork—reflex, trust, and preparation.
"I told you I could make landmines fashionable!" Mika shouted with a wink. "Who said battlefield elegance was dead?!"
Rei didn't respond. Her threads sliced the last sigil underfoot before it could trigger.
"Clear."
Way behind them, the foliage rustled.
Team Blanche had just arrived at the minefield.
They didn't panic.
They didn't break formation.
Yuxin crouched low, her shadow pulsing beneath her as she tested the density of the ground.
"Pressure runes. Set to mana signatures," she muttered. "Smart. These explode if you breathe wrong."
Blanche narrowed her eyes and adjusted her gloves. Her voice was calm.
"We observe the activation range. Vila—probe the leftmost edge. Slowly."
Vila didn't reply. She stepped forward, and with one flick of her hand, summoned a lance of raw natural force—which she hurled forward like a spear into the dirt.
It triggered four mines in one go.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
They watched the explosions carefully.
"Spacing is exactly six paces apart," Blanche muttered. "Center path is denser. Perimeters more open."
Ruka gulped.
"S-so… do we… run?"
Yuxin gave her a sideways glance, deadpan.
"We walk. Unless you want to become a shooting star."
And so they did.
Calm. Calculated. Timing their movement with each distant detonation like dancers avoiding spotlight triggers. They weren't the fastest team.
But they were the most intact.