Rian blinked, still staring at his foot with a furrowed brow, when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.
It was Alina Veyra, her red eyes fixed on him with a mix of authority and something that looked like… curiosity?
"Come with me," Alina said, her voice sharp but low, barely audible over the commotion.
She didn't wait for a reply; she turned on her heels, her staff striking the ground with a crisp tap, and started walking towards a corner of the field, away from the crowd.
Rian scratched his cheek, shrugging.
"Sure," he murmured, following her with relaxed steps while his classmates kept whispering.
The three remaining professors—Darius, Lira, and Mira—stayed on the platform, crossing their arms or adjusting their tunics as the medics dragged Gavren off the field.
Alina led Rian to a lone tree at the edge of the lawn, where the shade fell in patches over the damp grass. From there, the platform looked smaller, the students' figures blurry but still noisy.
"Stay here," Alina said, turning to him with her staff resting at her side. "If I leave you back there, they'll drown you with questions, and I don't have time to deal with that."
"Got it," Rian replied, slipping his hands into the pockets of his blue uniform. He leaned against the trunk, scratching the back of his neck as he gazed at the platform calmly. "So, I just watch from here, then?"
Alina nodded, adjusting her hair bun with a quick motion.
"Yes, but I'll talk to you later."
Without another word, Alina turned and headed back to the centre of the field.
Rian yawned quietly, resting his head against the rough bark. The students' murmurs had died down a bit, but complaints and nervous giggles still drifted over.
Alina struck her staff against the platform again.
"Silence," she commanded, her firm voice slicing through the chatter like a blade. She pulled the sheet from her tunic, running a finger down the list with a frown. "Zevrin Kael," she called, looking up with impatience.
A boy stepped forward from the line, tall and lanky, with messy black hair falling over his eyes.
His blue uniform was pristine, but his hands trembled slightly as he climbed onto the platform. His skin was pale, almost as if he never saw the sun, and a spark of something wild glinted in his dark eyes.
"I want Darius," Zevrin said, his voice deep but edged with nerves, pointing at the professor with a quick jab of his finger.
Darius Kain raised an eyebrow.
"Here we go," he growled, lumbering onto the platform with heavy steps.
Zevrin took a deep breath, clenching his fists at his sides.
Suddenly, the air around him crackled, and an orange flame flickered to life in his hands, small at first, like a shaky candle.
The new students murmured, some rolling their eyes.
"Another fire one? This'll be dull," a boy near the line whispered.
But then Zevrin opened his fists, and the flames shot towards Darius like a gust. They weren't just fire; when they hit the stone, they exploded with a BOOM! that shook the platform.
Dust billowed up, and Darius stepped back, startled, as the echo rolled across the field.
"Oh, you're a bit of an oddball," the professor muttered, narrowing his eyes.
Zevrin's flames didn't die out like normal ones; each impact left a small crater in the stone, and the air smelled of gunpowder.
Rian tilted his head from his corner, scratching his cheek.
"That's not regular fire," he mumbled to himself, his eyes locked on the fight.
Zevrin didn't let up. He clenched a fist again, and a larger fireball rocketed out, detonating as it grazed Darius's arm.
The professor grunted, blocking the blow with his forearm, but the blast shoved him back a step, leaving a black scorch mark on his sleeve.
"Ha! How's that?" Zevrin shouted, his voice rising with excitement. He launched another burst, this one wider, and the explosions rocked the platform like someone had let off a string of firecrackers.
Darius frowned, charging straight into the attack.
"Not bad," he growled, dodging one blast and blocking another with his arm.
But Zevrin was quicker this time; he clenched both fists and flung them open, unleashing a wave of fire that detonated in a ring around the professor.
BOOM!
The blast made some of the new students yelp, clapping their hands over their ears.
Darius emerged from the smoke, his uniform singed, and for the first time, he looked annoyed.
"Alright, enough messing about," he said, raising a hand.
A sphere of fire formed in his palm, denser and brighter than Zevrin's, and he hurled it straight at the boy.
Zevrin tried to dodge, but the sphere exploded near him—not with a wild burst, but with a heat that wrapped around him like a net.
The boy dropped to his knees, gasping, as Darius approached with slow steps and knocked him down with a firm shove to the chest.
"It's over," the professor said, brushing off his hands as the smoke cleared.
The platform went quiet for a moment, until Alina struck her staff against the stone.
"Rank S," she announced, her voice steady.
The new students erupted into protests.
"Rank S? But he lost!" a scrawny boy yelled, flailing his arms.
"The other one floored a professor, and this guy did nothing!" another added, crossing his arms with a scowl.
Kaelin, from the edge, let out a dry chuckle, eyeing Zevrin with a raised eyebrow.
Alina narrowed her eyes, striking the staff again to shut them up.
"Silence," she ordered, her tone cutting. "Rank isn't just about winning. Zevrin showed control and power. That's enough." Her gaze swept over the students, daring them to argue, but no one did.
Rian, from his tree, frowned, scratching his cheek again.
"Control, huh," he murmured, thoughtful.
He'd barely figured out what happened with his own kick.
Alina pulled out the sheet again, sliding a finger down the list.
"Lyra Sennar," she called, looking up with impatience.
A slim girl with short blonde hair stepped forward, climbing onto the platform with determined strides.
Meanwhile, Zevrin trudged down, brushing off his charred uniform with a grimace.
His dark eyes met Rian's from across the distance and lingered there, glinting with something that looked like… anger?
Rian tilted his head, confused.
"What's his problem?" he muttered to himself, scratching the back of his neck as Zevrin kept staring, his fists clenched at his sides.