'You should wait here and ambush him,' Nightmare suggested from within his teardrop as Seth set his gray training uniform on a bench in the coliseum's empty locker room.

Seth shook his head. 'I can't beat him without your help—especially with all the leeches always around him.'

'Then let me out.'

'And expose Link to everyone? No thanks,' Seth answered, taking off his jacket, shirt, and pants. 'There's certainly a reason my father told me to keep it hidden. Who knows what kind of trouble that could bring.'

The direwolf grumbled and sat within the teardrop's domain while Seth examined his training uniform: an all-gray, one-piece suit with two black stripes running from the ankles to the wrists. The fabric was soft, stretchy and breathable—almost too perfect for physical training. The moment he slipped it on, it clung to his body like a second skin and tightly hugged his muscular frame. It was more comfortable than he had expected, but far too form-fitting for his taste.

"I feel naked," he muttered, tossing his academy's uniform into one of the wooden boxes lining the wall.

'And I'm naked every day of my life. What's the big deal?' Nightmare quipped.

'You're a beast,' Seth retorted, looking down at his crotch then craning his neck to see his butt. 'It's different.'

'Nah, I'm just better looking.'

Seth blinked a few times, then shook his head and left the changing room. 'Yeah, sure.'

Stepping into the open coliseum, Seth surveyed the surroundings. The large stone platform used during the welcoming ceremony was gone, now replaced by five broad white rings drawn onto the clay floor. Off to his left, two girls in the training uniform stood near the wall, which surprised him a little since the class wouldn't start for another thirty minutes. As he approached them, he gave them a brief nod, taking care not to stare and come off as a creep.

Soon enough, the rest of the class began trickling into the circular arena, joining them on the side. Seth took that opportunity to quietly observe his classmates and analyze the dynamic among them. Four students immediately stood out: Lucius with his blond ponytail, a tanned young man with shoulder-length black hair, a platinum-blonde girl, and the Surani House's goddess. Unlike the three others, the latter was the only one not surrounded by a small crowd—probably due to the icy glare she shot at whoever dared to come near her or the dark-haired girl by her side.

To Seth's surprise, no one else seemed to be bothered by the figure-hugging uniforms. Such attire was most likely common, and he just hadn't come across them due to Sunatown's lack of combat Wielders.

As the last students arrived, loud footsteps echoed through the arena; a group of six instructors appeared from the coliseum's entrance. Five of them wore the academy's dark teacher uniform, while the last one, a tall man with broad shoulders and a bald head, sported a formal suit: a deep-blue jacket decorated with intricate gold-and-silver braiding along the sleeves and collar, medallions hanging from the chest pocket. A pristine white shirt with a high collar and ruffled cuffs peeked out from beneath his jacket sleeves. His matching navy pants, adorned with similar braiding, were tucked into tall, polished boots that reached just below his knees. Even though Seth had never seen the military uniform of Kastal before, he knew this had to be it.

"Welcome, students!" the man's voice boomed through the open arena. "I'm Captain Michaelson, your instructor for your Combat Theory course. I'm a Gold Paladin who fought in the Red War. My job here is to make sure that when you first set foot on the battlefield, you won't die miserably like most rookies do."

Seth's eyes widened at the mention of the Red War. He had heard stories about the brutal conflict with the Bridan Empire fifteen years prior. Commoners had nearly revolted against the crown for sending them, instead of nobles, to die on the front lines—which was really surprising coming from the Houses.

"A Paladin?" someone behind Seth whispered.

"If you have a question, you raise your hand, Commoner Elenor!" the captain bellowed, his face hard as stone. "For the ignorant, Paladin is a subclass of Guardian that specializes in light and healing spells."

Not a fan of commoners, Seth noted internally.

Captain Michaelson gestured to the three men and two women standing in line behind him. "These are your instructors for the session," he announced before pointing at each of them. "Professor Mate for the Elementalists, Professor Daty for the Rogues, Sergeant Tirus for the Warriors, Sergeant Faertis for the Guardians, and Professor Ryehill for the Priests."

Seth's lips tightened. No instructors for the Primalists. Great.

"Some lessons will be held collectively, but most of them will be with your respective instructor—like today."

Captain Michaelson unclipped the purple Endless Pouch at his belt and drew out a strange silver belt with a blue buckle, featuring two glass-like chambers on the sides. "This," he continued, "is a Protecting Belt. When activated, the aether inside forms a barrier around you and keeps you from dying during training. The amount of uniums you'll be allowed will be determined by your instructor based on your Toughness."

As the man began handing out a belt to each student, Seth recalled Professor Reat mentioning something similar during the selections while explaining how his own barrier spell worked. Accepting his belt, Seth ran his fingers over the intricate runes etched in the buckle and the two sturdy chambers that would house the aether before casting Identify.

Protecting Belt

Artifact / Belt

Tier: Copper

Grade: Epic

Effects:

- On activation, forms an aether barrier around the owner.

- Capacity of 200 uniums (0/200).

- Aether can be stored for up to 48 hours.

Seth's heart skipped a beat. With that thing, he could face stronger beasts than he had been, without fear of getting injured and wasting one of Marcus' two remaining Healing Potions.

"Each of you must return your belt at the end of class," Captain Michaelson continued, his gaze sweeping across the crowd of students before pausing. "Except for you, Miss Surani and Mister Crestor. You can both keep yours. A perk of being in the top one percent of your year." He then brought his hands together in a sharp clap that echoed through the coliseum. "Right, then, let's begin! Everyone, to your instructors."

The tanned young man with shoulder-length dark hair—who had been surrounded by students earlier—grinned proudly and strutted like a peacock toward the instructors as Seth raised his hand.

"Yes, Commoner Seth?" Captain Michaelson said, noticing him.

"There's no Primalist instructor, sir," Seth answered, fighting to keep his face neutral despite the belittling term. "Which group should I join?"

The captain scowled and briefly narrowed his eyes. "Join any group you want," he then retorted sharply. "It won't matter."

Anger flared in Seth's chest, but he swallowed it down and headed toward the Warriors' group while fastening his Protecting Belt. As he passed other students, he caught snippets of their muttering.

"The Warriors? Is he stupid, or do you think he just wants to get badly beaten?"

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"Yeah, he should've gone with the Priests."

"Honestly, I'm pretty sure he'd lose there too."

Seth gritted his teeth and ignored them. Warrior was the most common combat class, so Devus had taught Seth most of their basic spells last night in case he would have to fight any of them today. Going with them was the most obvious choice.

'Prove them wrong,' Nightmare growled from within the teardrop. 'Or I'll rip out their throats myself.'

'No worries, I've got this.'

Upon reaching the Warriors' group inside one of the wide white circles, Seth immediately felt the judging gazes hit him. A smug-looking young man with short brown hair stepped forward. "Why are you coming here? To run in circles again?"

Seth recognized him almost immediately: he was one of the Rank-14 nobles from the selections at Arthuri. "Yeah, that's exactly why, actually."

His answer instantly drew the attention of one of Lucius' apes, a noble with a very punchable face and a long black ponytail. "Who do you think you are?" he spat. "Talking like this to a noble when you're worth less than the dirt under his boots."

Just as one of the other Warriors was going to put himself between them, Seth clenched his fists and moved closer. "Go—"

"Enough," Sergeant Tirus barked, his voice cutting through the tension. With a commanding presence, he strode toward them. "We're not here to chit chat. Both of you can keep those mouths shut." The man then turned to the rest of the group. "We'll start with skirmishes to see where you all stand in terms of combat techniques. And since Golden Eyes and Ponytail here seem so eager to fight, they'll kick things off. Everyone else, step out of the ring."

A few students smiled at Seth as they backed away, probably excited to see him getting beat up.

'Wow, good job of restraining yourself,' Nightmare said through Link. 'I don't think you could've done better.'

"What weapon do you want?" Sergeant Tirus asked, facing Seth and the noble.

"A two-handed claymore," the ponytailed youngster answered.

"A long dagger," Seth followed.

The sergeant pulled a hefty claymore and a dagger from his Endless pouch, handing each of them their weapon before channeling aether into the buckle of Seth's belt without even touching it. "Eighty uniums."

Four uniums for each point of Toughness, Seth concluded while Identifying both weapons, just in case there was favoritism at play.

Crude Long Dagger

Weapon

Tier: Copper

Grade: Common

Effects:

- Ignores 5% of Toughness while stabbing or slashing.

Crude Claymore

Weapon

Tier: Copper

Grade: Common

Effects:

- Ignores 6% of Toughness while stabbing or slashing.

The Warrior spun his oversized sword, a smirk playing across his face as the sergeant finished filling his belt's buckle. "You're going to regret coming here, commoner. That belt may keep you alive, but it won't protect you from pain."

Thanks for the obvious, dumbass, Seth thought, rolling his eyes as they both headed to the white crosses on each side of the ring. The familiar cold prickle of being Identified repeatedly rose within his chest, and a few murmurs followed on the sideline. Taking position, Seth locked eyes with his opponent.

Steven Yelis Class: Warrior Rank: 16 (High-Copper) Subclass: - Strength: 44 Arcane Power: 18 Toughness: 30 Well Capacity: 24 Agility: 23 Regeneration: 18

Rank 16, not bad, Seth thought, quite pleased that the knucklehead was not wearing any concealment artifact. The youngster had nearly double his Strength, but with Nightmare's bonus attributes, Seth had about fifty percent more Agility. I just need to make sure he never hits me. While chipping away at the one hundred and twenty uniums inside his belt.

"Activate your belts!" Sergeant Tirus shouted, thrusting his hand into the air.

Almost instantly, Seth and Steven channeled aether into their Protecting Belts. Thousands of shimmering particles whirled and danced around them briefly before falling, enveloping each in a thin, azure veil.

Seth tightened his grip on the dagger's hilt and pushed aether into Haste's grooves while staring at Steven a few dozen feet away. The noble's face twisted with malice, and his bulging muscles strained against his training uniform as he hefted the massive claymore. The blade, nearly as tall as him, was impressive, but unwieldy for swift strikes.

The sergeant swung his hand down. "Fight!"

Without wasting a beat, Steven dashed forward, blue aether surging around his legs. Charge, Seth easily guessed. A gap-closing spell that boosted the speed of Warriors but limited maneuverability. As the noble's massive claymore cut through the air in a dangerous arc, Seth rolled to the side, his core igniting in his chest. Back on his feet, he immediately lunged forward, his dagger flashing toward the Warrior's neck. The noble barely managed to lift his claymore in time to block the strike.

The moment the blades clashed, Seth infused Shocking Strike into his leg and delivered a powerful kick to Steven's thigh. Lightning arcs swept through the noble's body, causing him to drop to one knee with a gasp of pain.

Seth thrusted his dagger down, aiming for his opponent's neck, but the Warrior caught his wrist, halting the strike. Without hesitation, Seth unleashed another electrical surge through his arm, wrenching another loud cry of pain from Steven, before following with a series of aether-powered punches—one, two, three—each blow slamming into the noble's face. Grabbing Steven's head, Seth jumped and smashed his knee into the Warrior's chin, sending him sprawling to the ground. Determined to end it right there, he then pounced again and plunged his dagger toward the noble's heart.

But just as the blade was about to hit, Steven let out a piercing scream. Blue aether erupted around him, forming a barrier that repelled Seth's weapon and sent him hurling across the ring. He crashed onto the arena's floor ten feet away, grunting in pain for half a second before scrambling up. The moment he charged back at the noble, his core flooded his mind and muscles with Feral Instinct and fed more aether into Haste.

Blue aether swirled and glowed around Steven's claymore and arms. Power Strike.

The noble swung the massive blade down, but Seth twisted to the side, narrowly dodging the blade, then quickly sliced the Warrior's arm twice. Each strike landed with a satisfying thunk, chipping away his belt's barrier.

Seth's eyes narrowed as he looked at the faint layer of aether surrounding his opponent. It's thinning. Good.

Sputtering a curse, Steven immediately flailed his giant claymore, leaving Seth no other choice than to grip his dagger with both hands to parry. Sparks flew with the blades' impact, and an intense jolt of pain shot up through Seth's arms. He stumbled back for an instant, but instinctively lunged forward again.

The noble tried stopping him with a horizontal slash, as if wishing to sever Seth's head and end the fight in a single blow. But seeing through the move, Seth ducked under the swing and sliced the noble's flank.

As the fight continued, Seth kept weaving in and out with Haste, deflecting or evading each attack before retaliating with sharp and precise strikes. He exploited his Agility's advantage, never giving the noble a moment to breathe under his relentless assaults of slashes, kicks, and punches.

Growling in frustration, Steven leapt back. "Go to hell!" he bellowed, planting his boots into the ground and thrusting his claymore above his head; a vortex of blue aether started enveloping his whole body.

Not good.

Without thinking, Seth channeled Shocking Strike into his dagger and flung it at the noble's torso. The blade struck true, sending crackling electrified arcs rippling through the Warrior's body, causing him to hunch down in pain and interrupt his spell. Seth immediately seized the opportunity and rushed in, driving his knee into the noble's face for a second time of the fight.

Steven crashed onto the colosseum's floor, and Seth then sprung onto him, unleashing a flurry of powerful, savage aether-enhanced punches. The fallen noble brought both hands up to shield his face, his barrier flickering and fading under the brutal onslaught.

Time to end this.

Jolting up, Seth retrieved his dagger a few feet away then lunged back toward Steven, thrusting his blade down in a fierce arc toward the noble's throat.

"Stop!" Sergeant Tirus' voice rang across the coliseum, and a powerful force pressed down on Seth's shoulder, anchoring him in place before he could deliver the blow.

For a moment, time seemed to stop as Seth and Steven locked eyes. Shock and disbelief contorted the noble's pale face, his hands trembling beneath his chin, while Seth's expression was cold and merciless, as a predator standing over its prey. But today wasn't a hunt. And the noble had done nothing so far that warranted his death.

Seth exhaled, quelling the bloodlust and his core while lowering his dagger.

Beneath him, the noble glared at him. "You fight like a—"

"Silence, Ponytail. The dead don't talk," the sergeant snapped, cutting him off. "Blame yourself for your loss, not his way of fighting. Except for your Warrior Cry, he saw through every one of your attacks. They were all predictable. And we won't even mention your last-ditch attempt at casting Enrage."

Seth's chest heaved as sweat dripped down from the soaked black hair plastering his forehead. For the first time since the fight had started, he felt the muscle fatigue and exhaustion setting in. Tearing his eyes away from the defeated noble, he lifted his head up and glanced around.

Captain Michaelson stood off to the side, arms crossed and a satisfied smile on his face, while all the students who weren't fighting—including those from the other groups—stared at Seth with burning eyes. They no longer saw him as a mere Primalist, or even a classmate, but as something far more dangerous for their ranking.

A threat.

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