Arthur and Élio locked eyes. The entire class watched in silence—after all, they were the two strongest in hand-to-hand combat. Professor Clarck, meanwhile, had stepped out, summoned to the principal's office.
"I'm going," Arthur said before charging straight at Élio.
Élio sidestepped, throwing a few jabs to his opponent's left side, knowing Arthur was right-handed. This forced Arthur to counter with jabs of his own, but they missed their mark. Little by little, the fight tilted in Élio's favor—his superior reach keeping Arthur at bay.
Arthur's lips were slightly parted, but his expression showed no sign of surrender. He kept pressing forward. Élio stuck to the same strategy—a quick dodge to the left or right, sometimes just a step back—using his long reach to land strikes while staying out of harm's way.
A deep cut opened on Arthur's left brow, blood trickling into his eye. Élio took full advantage, slipping to Arthur's left every time he dodged to land even cleaner blows.
But soon, Élio's punches slowed. His movements grew sluggish. His breath came short and uneven.
Arthur saw his opening. Without hesitation, he lunged forward with explosive speed. Élio barely had time to raise his guard before Arthur slammed a brutal left hook into his liver. Pain shot through him, but he refused to buckle.
Arthur stepped back, watching Élio carefully. They both knew what was coming next. Élio tried to steady his breathing, but sharp pain gripped his torso. Arthur didn't hesitate—he feinted a jab toward Élio's eyes, forcing a desperate block. Then, with perfect precision, he followed up with a devastating hook to the chin.
Élio crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut.
He tried to get back up, but at that moment, Clarck returned to the room.
"What the hell is this crowd?" he barked before his eyes fell on the two bloodied fighters in the center.
Arthur's face was more battered, but Élio was the one on the ground, a faint trace of frustration on his face.
The winner wasn't particularly happy about his victory. To him, it felt like he had only won because his opponent was exhausted. In terms of technique, he knew he was still a step below.
"Are you seriously fighting without headgear, you idiots?" Clarck snapped, exasperated. This wasn't the first time those two had caused trouble. Arthur had once made a girl cry with a ruthless liver punch, insisting that holding back would be disrespectful. Élio wasn't much better—he'd broken a classmate's nose with a spinning kick after the guy joked about his low social status.
"Drop into plank. Twenty minutes," Clarck ordered.
"Twenty minutes after a fight? Is he trying to kill us?" Arthur muttered.
"Yeah, that should be illegal.." respond Élio
By the time their punishment ended, both were completely drained.
The rest of the day passed without incident. Louis trained with Clara, a girl physically weaker than him but showing strong potential thanks to her power. Among the other notable students was Azel, a quiet boy from an underprivileged background like Arthur and Élio. He was skilled in combat, and unlike them, his power was nothing to scoff at—many watched him with growing expectations.
Azel had fought Arthur once and lost, but unlike Élio, it was because he couldn't match Arthur's speed. He had struggled throughout the entire fight, constantly on the defensive, until Arthur landed a solid hit to his chin, ending the match.
At this school, only the strong mattered—whether hated or admired, they stood above everyone else. Ascendia mirrored Asturia itself: a ruthless, competitive world where victory through Asturian combat styles was the only thing that counted. The best were worshipped like gods, with statues in their honor. The weak? They weren't even given a proper grave.
Arthur and Élio had stood out during the pre-orientation, but to the others, it didn't mean much. Strength alone wasn't enough.
At the end of the session, Clarck gave each student a blunt assessment of their power with a single adjective:
Clara:"Promising."
Azel:"Not bad."
Louis:"Average."
Élio:"Below average."
Arthur:"Pathetic."
Clara seemed pretty happy, unlike the others.
Azel was slightly disappointed—he had expected something more impressive.
Louis, on the other hand, was frustrated. That word, average, resonated deeply with him. It was exactly what he had been trying to escape.
Élio appeared unfazed, while Arthur looked worried.
After training, everyone went home one last time. Next week, they would step into Ascendia's boarding school for real. Some were deep in thought. Others, anxious.
Élio was as calm as stone, already strategizing his weekend training to prepare for the start of the school year. His loss against Arthur didn't bother him much, but the fight had exposed a major flaw—his stamina. He needed to fix that. And perhaps, find a way to strengthen his powers.
Clara and Louis were nervous.
Azel's eyes burned with ambition.
Arthur, however, seemed lost in thought, like a wanderer without a destination—a warrior with no war to fight and no home to return to.