It didn't sound like much—until you were carrying your own weight, your Pacta, your teammates' hopes, and a half-broken rib from the last landmine detonation.
The checkpoint didn't look grand. Just a wide clearing with stone benches etched with Asterblume's crest, a few floating sigils marking official rest zones, and a hovering orb suspended mid-air scanning every participant who crossed it.
Checkpoint One: Logged.
As Team Blanche emerged from the treeline, the orb pulsed once, confirming their arrival. Yuxin barely gave it a glance. Her shoulders rose and fell with slow, even breaths. Sweat dripped down the curve of her jaw. Her shadows flickered faintly, still dancing beneath her boots as if they too were catching their breath.
"Finally," she muttered. "I was starting to hallucinate a cold drink with a face."
Blanche stepped beside her, eyes scanning the perimeter. It was quiet here. Peaceful. Mostly.
And then she saw them.
Team Mika—already sprawled comfortably on one of the stone benches like they'd been there for hours, not ten minutes.
Mika was polishing her reflection in a compact mirror made of summoned light, touching up her lip tint with surgical focus.
"My hair's frizzing," she said to no one in particular. "If I look like I lost a fight with a hedge, cancel the tournament."
Rei sat cross-legged nearby, methodically unpacking cloth-wrapped containers from a woven bag that clearly did not come from school-issued inventory. She laid out bread rolls, sliced fruit, and something steaming from a little flask she'd tucked in with care.
William crouched beside her, opening bottles and unwrapping napkins like it was second nature.
"Same tea from yesterday?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"Mm-hmm," Rei replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "With lavender."
"You made that in the dorms?" Blanche called out, approaching slowly.
"Of course," Rei said with a warm smile. "It's important to eat properly during long trials."
Yuxin gave her a flat look.
"You packed a whole tea party."
"We pack what we value," Rei replied gently.
"We value survival," Yuxin shot back.
"Same goal. Different tools."
Vila had already sat down on a flat rock nearby, stretching her legs out in front of her with quiet satisfaction. Her breathing hadn't changed once since the start of the run.
Ruka plopped down beside her, letting out a soft, exhausted squeak as she hugged her plushie like it had done all the running for her.
"Are we… allowed to share food?" Ruka asked quietly.
"It's not against the rules," William replied, offering her a clean cup.
"But you'll owe me a favor," Mika added with a smirk. "Something minor. Like... naming a limited-edition tea after me."
Blanche glanced between her team, noting the fatigue on Yuxin's face, the twitch in Ruka's fingers, the dust on her own boots. She nodded once.
"Five-minute break," she announced.
Yuxin didn't argue.
She collapsed backwards onto the grass, arms sprawled like she was ready to be buried there.
"Wake me when the forest tries to eat us again."
"So in about fifteen minutes," Vila noted.
Mika tossed a rolled hand towel at Yuxin's face.
"Dry off, darling. If you're going to die on the battlefield, at least look good doing it."
Yuxin caught the towel. Barely.
"You are the most exhausting person I haven't killed."
"And yet, I'm still the most charming person you've met today."
The two teams settled into a surprisingly natural rhythm—like different puzzle pieces that had accidentally fit into the same picture. They didn't talk strategy. They didn't overthink the next thirty kilometers.
They just... rested.
Shared small things. Shared breath.
Even Blanche found herself easing down beside William without comment, accepting a cup of Rei's herbal blend with a nod of thanks.
No one said it aloud.
But everyone knew:
The hardest part wasn't behind them.
It was waiting just up the path.
The forest opened up again just past the thirteenth kilometer, light streaking down through thin breaks in the canopy like blades of sun cutting through shadow. The trail had narrowed, forcing runners into single file, and only a few still remained ahead.
Silas Caelumotris was one of them.
Every motion of his body was measured—his breathing shallow, his steps precise. No wasted movement. His coat rippled faintly behind him, half-unbuttoned to allow easier stride flow, his sword at the ready, but sheathed.
Rea, just a few steps to his left, was doing the complete opposite.
"Do you remember that one time someone put glitter in the infirmary bandages? I swear on my fourth favorite hoodie, I still sparkle when I sweat."
Silas didn't answer. Not because he didn't hear—he did—but because he was too busy mapping every sound within fifty meters of them.
Rea continued, unfazed.
"And like, why do they keep putting the annoying kind of thorns on these tracks? You know, the little spiky ones that get in your socks but hurt your soul—"
Snap.
It was fast. Barely audible.
But Silas moved.
He shoved Rea aside just as the vine-spear shot through the air like a coiled snake unleashed. It slammed into the ground where her leg had been—not stabbing, but slamming, a burst of kinetic force sending dirt flying.
Rea rolled once, twisted back to her feet, and blinked.
"Wait—was that a plant trying to commit murder?!"
Silas had already drawn Judicara.
His stance shifted subtly—center of gravity lowered, sword angled downward, but ready.
And then the forest shivered.
A pressure rolled in—like iron dragging through dirt.
From the shadows between the trees, Kael Dymont stepped out.
Towering. Broad-shouldered. Shirt halfway unzipped. Scars on display like warnings. Behind him stood two enforcers—one still pulling his arm back from casting the vine-spear. The other said nothing, just cracked his knuckles with slow menace.
Kael didn't blink.
He didn't smile, either.
"...Yo."
Rea squinted.
"Wait—that was your version of saying hi?!"
"Worked, didn't it?" Kael said flatly.
Silas didn't lower his weapon.
"What are you doing here, Dymont? The bracket hasn't started."
Kael took another step forward, arms crossed.
"Didn't say I was fighting. That was just a warm-up. My guy back there just likes to say hello loud."
The enforcer behind him gave a lazy shrug, like this was all routine.
Silas narrowed his eyes.
"You're scouting."
"Yeah. And giving out warnings."
Rea tilted her head.
"Friendly kind? Or the 'we're-gonna-punch-you-into-the-ground-once-it's-legal' kind?"
"Yes," Kael replied.
Silas exhaled through his nose, calm but sharp.
"So what? You came to threaten us?"
Kael cracked his neck once.
"No threats. Just transparency."
He looked Silas dead in the eyes—gray meeting silver, steel meeting command.
"I'm winning this thing. I don't care about points, prestige, or shiny brackets. I just want one thing."
"And that is?" Silas asked, tone like a blade.
Kael didn't hesitate.
"The Pit. Official status. Full integration. No more under-the-table matches. No more whispers."
Rea blinked.
"Wait—you mean the illegal, totally unsanctioned, blood-soaked cage-fighting dome under the library?"
Kael's brows twitched.
"It's under the storage wing."
"Right, sorry. Totally different vibe."
Kael stepped forward once more, just far enough to let the air between them spark with tension.
"If I win, they can't ignore us anymore. I get the Pit sanctioned. We become a recognized combat curriculum."
Silas didn't react outwardly, but his voice dropped low.
"You're weaponizing the tournament to rewrite academy law."
"I'm proving that our way works. Brutal, honest, earned. No sparkles, no titles. Just fists and grit."
For a second, no one said anything.
Then Rea tilted her head again.
"Okay but like... did you have to launch a tree-javelin to explain that?"
Kael raised one brow.
"Didn't hear you say thanks for the heads-up."
"I'm not thanking your vine."
Silas slowly sheathed his sword, but his gaze remained sharp.
"We'll see you in the bracket."
Kael nodded once.
"Count on it."
Then, without another word, Kael turned—his two followers melting back into the trees behind him like wolves on leash. Within seconds, the underbrush swallowed them.
The forest was quiet again.
Rea exhaled and turned to Silas.
"I was just talking about glitter. And then boom, moral philosophy with an elbow tattoo."
Silas didn't respond right away. He glanced once toward the direction Kael had gone.
Then said, flatly:
"This tournament is going to be a warzone."
***
The sun hung lazy over Checkpoint One, spilling soft light across the mossy stones and leaves that rustled with a warm breeze. Laughter and idle chat filled the little clearing as Team Blanche and Team Mika sat sprawled across benches and picnic cloths. The scent of lavender tea and sweet buns wafted gently in the air.
Rei had just finished arranging her second round of lunchboxes. She opened a tightly sealed cloth packet, revealing neat rolls of rice with delicate herbs pressed along the sides.
"These are miso-kelp rolls," Rei smiled, offering the tray to Mika first. "I tested the seasoning balance last night."
"Girl," Mika cooed, biting into one and fanning herself dramatically. "If this racing thing doesn't work out, open a café and name it after me."
William chuckled softly beside them, pouring another round of tea into wooden cups. Blanche sat cross-legged nearby, her posture perfect even in rest, watching with a soft smile as Ruka chewed with starry eyes.
"What's in this one?" Blanche asked, nodding toward the next box Rei unwrapped.
"It's—ah, wait, grilled sesame tofu, carrot ribbons, and the rice is lightly soaked in ginger stock," Rei said, smiling shyly. "It's a recipe from—"
"Can I have one too?"
The voice came from behind.
Soft. Polished. Dead calm.
Rei didn't even look up when she answered out of habit:
"Sure, help yourself. There's extra—"
She froze mid-sentence.
Everyone did.
Her eyes finally looked up. And the breath left her lungs.
Standing barely two steps away, elegant and silent as a reflection in a poisoned mirror—was Seryn Eloweth.
Her presence didn't announce itself. It arrived.
Like perfume drifting from a flower that only blooms when you're already too close.
The vines at her ankles shimmered faintly with Pacta residue. Her uniform was immaculate. Her hair—long, cascading like a curtain of liquid ink over silk. And flanking her, three followers: each silent, each composed, each exuding that chilling calm of someone who knew you would never win if you tried anything.
At her left stood Marleth Rive—the infamous third-tier alchemist prodigy. Her gloved hands were tucked into her coat. Her stare unblinking. Her entire being felt like a vial that could explode if asked the wrong question.
Rei's chopsticks clattered to the grass.
"...uh—ah—"
Seryn tilted her head slightly, blinking once with serene curiosity.
"Is something wrong?" Her voice was velvety, clean, but edged with something... chemical.
Mika, always first to talk, remained perfectly still. The confident curl of her lip was gone. Even William glanced at Blanche like someone silently asking: what do we do now?
Ruka inched closer to Vila, as if trying to merge into her shadow.
The clearing held its breath.
Then Blanche spoke, her tone light—but carefully placed.
"You're welcome to try it. Rei's cooking is exceptional. I recommend the kelp rolls."
Seryn turned her gaze from Rei to Blanche.
And smiled.
Just once.
"How generous of you, Lady Equinox."
She stepped forward, elegant and slow, knelt with impossible grace beside Rei, and took one of the rolls. She ate it in one bite, her movements clinical, yet oddly reverent.
Then she looked back at Rei.
"Delicious. I never realized someone from my territory had such talent."
Rei flinched.
Seryn's eyes drifted to the badge on Rei's chest—the tiny emerald marking her Eastern origin. A symbol that, until now, hadn't meant much in this race.
"Have you ever considered joining Viridia Hollow?" she asked, still soft. "Your skills would be... deeply appreciated."
Rei opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"I—uhm… I…"
It was the kind of silence that begged for someone—anyone—to interrupt.
But no one moved.
Not even Mika. Not even Blanche.
Until...
Yuxin, who'd been sprawled on the grass like a cat avoiding all social nonsense, slowly opened one eye.
"Tch…"
She propped herself up on one elbow and shot Seryn a bored glance.
"She's not interested."
Seryn blinked, her smile freezing just slightly.
"Oh?"
Yuxin rolled her neck, shadows flickering under her hands like restless snakes.
"There's no reason for her to join you. You don't need her. She doesn't need you. End of story."
The silence snapped like a twig.
Seryn tilted her head again, this time amused. Her eyes narrowed faintly—not with malice, but with acknowledgment.
And then… she laughed.
Quiet. Short.
Like a bell inside a glass dome.
"I see," she murmured. "Well said. And... perhaps true."
She stood again, brushing the dirt from her uniform as if it offended her.
"It seems I've caused a stir," she added, more to herself than anyone else. "Do continue your meal."
With a graceful pivot, she turned—her cloak trailing vines of illusory bloom—and left without waiting for permission. Her followers melted back into the woods behind her, silent as ghosts.
Only when they were fully gone did anyone exhale.
Rei let out a shaky breath, cheeks pale.
"I... couldn't breathe."
Mika reached over, patting her back.
"You're fine now, babe. You didn't die. That's a win."
William poured another cup of tea like it would undo the last five minutes.
Blanche, after a pause, turned to Yuxin.
"Thank you."
Yuxin shrugged, flopping back onto the grass.
"You all freeze up too easy. It's just a woman with pretty words and a god complex."
Blanche chuckled lightly—half from amusement, half from leftover adrenaline.
"She's more than that. But yes. Well said."
The tea didn't taste the same after that.
But somehow, it meant more now.