The prince, armor cracked and dimmed, exhaled hard through his teeth and let the point of his sword drop until it scraped the broken tiles.

Theo broke the silence first."You've improved," he said quietly, sincerity soft beneath the calm. "Your control's sharper than last time."

The prince straightened, his chest rising with heavy breaths. Then a faint, proud smirk curved his lips. "Thank you,Theo.. but you are stronger still."

"Only when I earned the strenght to protect you." Theo gave a short nod, half bow, half acknowledgment. The faint distortions around his fists shimmered once and faded.

The prince sheathed his sword with a metallic sigh. "We'll end it here. Tomorrow we regroup, set a better plan, and make sure no one embarrasses themselves again."

Theo inclined his head. "Agreed."

Before the prince could even turn to tell Avin that the training session had ended, he already reached the door, Henry right behind him.

"We have more things to do tomorrow!"The Prince exclaimed, Avin looked back and nodded.

They finally went out the weird space.

Outside, the air was fresh and sharp with mana. Henry stretched his arms high above his head and yawned."So," he said, "since we're somehow not dead, want to see what parts of this giant place we can wander into?"

Avin eyed him. " Sure, why not?"

They followed the long corridor, finally reaching the familiar sight of the southern door, they got out with it. "Weird how those guard people that were trying to kill us just never came back to the gate" Avin said, "Makes me think they just came here to target me"

Henry looked at him, slightly confused, "They tried to kill us?"

Avin looked back at him, slowly realizing his mistake "Oh, I meant Sylas and I"

"They tried to kill you?"

"Long story"

"We have a long day ahead of us... perfect for long stories"

"I'll tell you later"

"I know you are lying"

"And yet you keep talking"

Henry scoffed. And they both headed into town, back to where it all started, Back to the Coliseum.

They passed under a row of banners marked with the academy crest—a radiant clockwork eye—and the distant roar of a crowd reached them. Avin followed the sound instinctively. The marble gave way to sandstone as they approached the coliseum, built in the heart of the training grounds. Wide arches opened onto tiered stone seating; the arena floor below was a rough mix of sand and broken stone, already alive with sparks and shouts.

"Looks like other teams are training," Henry said, grinning as they climbed the steps to find a seat halfway up.

Avin dropped down beside him, leaning forward on his knees. "Let's see what passes for 'training' here."

Magician vs Swordsman

Two students faced each other in the ring: a young woman in silver robes, her fingers already glowing with azure sigils, and a broad-shouldered boy gripping a longsword.

The mage moved first—"Aqua Lance!"—three spears of condensed water tore through the air. The swordsman slashed the first aside; the second grazed his sleeve, freezing a line of frost where it struck. The third came low—he jumped, twisted midair, and landed inside her guard. Steel flashed.

She threw up her hands; a dome of water surged upward, hissing into steam where his mana-coated blade cut through. The swordsman's follow-up strike shattered the barrier, scattering droplets like rain. When the mist cleared, his sword stopped just shy of her shoulder.

The instructor raised a hand. "Point, swordsman!"

The mage exhaled, half-laughing. "You cut my spell and my pride."

Avin smirked. "Remind me not to stand in front of either of them."

Swordsman vs Spearman

Next came a wiry swordswoman and a tall spearman whose weapon gleamed with lightning runes.

The moment the signal rang, the spear struck first—swift, sweeping arcs that painted white trails through the air. The swordswoman parried one, two, three strikes before being forced back toward the edge. The spear moved like an extension of the wielder's heartbeat, relentless.

But the swordswoman's eyes narrowed. On the fourth thrust she sidestepped, twisting her blade under the spearshaft and locking it. A sharp twist—metal screeched—and she dragged the spear off-balance, stepping in close. Her blade halted a breath from his chest.

The crowd murmured. The spearman grinned and tapped his weapon to his heart in salute.

"Not bad," Avin said quietly.Henry stretched his legs. "Remind me never to flirt with a swordswoman."

Spearman vs Magician

The same spearman faced a boy with a wind-rune tattoo spiraling up his arm. The mage began to chant; circles flared under his feet. A torrent of air shot forward, whipping the sand into a storm.

The spearman crouched low, spinning his weapon overhead to disperse the wind before driving forward through the gale. Each step cracked the floor. He jabbed—fast—but the mage leapt sideways, cloak flaring. With a twist of his wrist, he redirected the wind beneath his opponent's feet.

The ground erupted. The spearman stumbled, barely catching his balance as a backdraft sent him sliding. The mage grinned and snapped his fingers; the air coiled, forming a visible spiral that pushed the spearman all the way to the arena's edge before collapsing with a thud.

The referee called the match. Both bowed, breathless, grinning.

Henry clapped once. "Okay, that was cool."Avin nodded slowly, eyes tracking the fading rune smoke. "Smart use of terrain."

Magician vs Magician

The crowd leaned forward as two robed figures stepped into the ring—one wreathed in crimson flame, the other veiled in pale frost.

The duel began in a heartbeat. Fireballs streaked through the air; shards of ice spun to meet them, bursting in plumes of steam. The floor hissed, half molten, half frozen.

The fire mage hurled a roaring arc of flame; the frost mage slid backward, summoning a wall of crystalline spikes that vaporized on impact. He retaliated with a storm of icy darts; she spun, creating a vortex of heat that melted them midair and flung droplets outward like sparks.

The collision of elements lit the arena in gold and blue. When the smoke cleared, both stood panting, smiling through the exhaustion.

"Draw!" the instructor called.

Applause rippled through the stands.

Henry leaned back, hands folded behind his head. "If that's what the average students look like, tomorrow's gonna be hell."

Avin smirked faintly, still watching the field. "Then we'd better bring something new to the table."

The sun sank lower, painting the coliseum walls in amber light. The air buzzed with mana and excitement, and for the first time since arriving, Avin felt something close to belonging.

Tomorrow would come—with new fights, new lessons, new bruises—but for now, the world was still turning, and he had front-row seats.

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