The Grand Auditorium of Zenith Academy was a coliseum of floating stone and glass, large enough to house an army. Today, it housed the thousand survivors of the First Year class.
The air tasted different than it had two months ago. Back then, during the orientation, the room had smelled of fear. It was the scent of prey animals waiting to see which one of them would be eaten first.
Now, the air smelled like ozone, cheap cologne, and arrogance.
The survivors of the First Practical weren't prey anymore. They were predators in training. They sat in their cliques, their mana signatures flaring with ostentatious brightness, posturing for position in the new hierarchy.
Vane sat near the back, in the shadows of a massive marble pillar. He leaned back in his chair, balancing on the rear legs, his eyes scanning the room with a lazy, calculated indifference.
