The training grounds of the coliseum hung heavy with silence. The students who had just witnessed Connor McCloud slay a Meteor in one blow could not find words. Their awe lingered like fog, thicker than gossip, quieter than doubt.
The professor broke the tension with his flamboyant gestures, praising the mercenary's efficiency while retrieving the blade from the beast's throat. Violet blood dripped onto the floor, its unnatural hue drawing gasps. For many, this was their first glimpse of Meteor blood—a reminder that these monsters were nothing like earthly animals.
With a clap, the professor signaled the attendants, who rolled in cages for each student. Inside waited more hound-type Meteors, their teeth filed down for safety. Even dulled, the beasts exuded menace. The lesson would continue, one student at a time.
The group's turn began with Lug. Muscles hardened, arms transformed by his gift, he seized the charging Meteor by the neck. His dagger cut clean and swift, leaving the beast lifeless at his feet.
Next was Lanius. The armored man took to the sky the moment the gate swung open. His bow-arm—mechanical, crossbow-like—fired a rain of magical bolts. The Meteor collapsed before it could leap, body riddled with arrows. His armor, though heavy, aided his flight. A crippled wing alone could not explain his speed, but enchanted craftsmanship made it possible.
Then came Myael. The princess did not move from her stance. A gust of wind surged the moment the Meteor lunged. In a heartbeat, its head fell from its body, severed before it could even cross the threshold. Even the professor faltered, startled by such precision. The other students trembled; Connor alone reflected inwardly, reminded of the impossible duel he had survived against her.
Anastasia followed. Unfazed by the sun, shielded beneath her parasol, she struck with vampiric flair. Blood splashed from her palm, blinding the Meteor. With a proud declaration, she unleashed fire upon it. The beast burned to ash within seconds, her destructive power undeniable.
Next came Whipney Somnia—the girl forever drifting in slumber. She floated forward, pillow in her arms, voice dragging as if between dreams. The professor's unease was clear, yet he gave the signal. The cage opened. Whipney murmured a spell, drowsy and half-formed, yet the result was devastating: a compressed mass of magic cannoned into the Meteor, crushing it utterly. The attack was so precise, so absolute, that Connor wondered what secret gift she hid, and why it had been left unspoken. Even Kyle's voice warned him—better not to pry yet.
Finally, Sina Palen stepped forward, her noble bearing unmistakable. Blonde hair curled in ornate fashion, a gleaming bow upon her shoulder, she carried herself with pride befitting the Red Crown dormitory. Connor recognized her voice—one of the students who had once mocked him. Today would be her chance to prove herself.
The cage opened. The Meteor lunged. Golden light flared in Sina's eyes, her gift awakening as arrow-shaped patterns danced across her pupil. She loosed a shaft that struck clean through the beast's skull, pinning it to the ground. Confidence shone upon her lips as she basked in the moment.
But Connor's forehead burned with warning. His gift whispered of danger still present. The Meteor's tail flame seemed extinguished, yet embers smoldered faintly. The beast was not dead.
Acting without hesitation, Connor seized Lug's dagger, pushing Sina aside. In the same instant, the Meteor spat a black, thorn-like spike from its hidden maw. The projectile cut through the air where Sina's head had been, missing only because of Connor's intervention.
Steel met the second strike. The dagger deflected the spike, and with a swift throw, Connor buried the blade in the beast. The final embers died. Only then did the burning sensation in his forehead fade away.
The professor hurried to examine the corpse, discovering the truth. This Meteor had been a mutant, its power concealed until the last moment. Such creatures broke the rules of expectation—living proof that no warrior could ever trust appearances when facing Meteors.
Though Sina tried to laugh off the rescue, her pride lay cracked. Humiliation stung her more than the near-death itself. Yet Connor noticed something else as he studied her face. A familiarity lingered, as though he had seen her somewhere before the academy. She, in turn, could not meet his gaze without anger and embarrassment mixing within her eyes.
The lesson resumed, the professor reminding all that Meteors could mutate without warning. But Connor's mind lingered. His gift had always warned him of his own peril. For the first time, it had sounded in response to another's danger.
This change carried meaning—a new weight upon him, unasked for, yet impossible to ignore.