As everyone got into motion, Draken said,
"Okay class, today we are going to be doing some sparring. First, let's assign sparring partners."
After saying that, Draken began picking students one by one at random. Elyon noticed that Luke had been partnered with a student who had red hair and striking yellow eyes. Luke appeared to be wielding a spear, while his opponent held a sword.
Then Elyon heard Draken call out,
"You and him."
Elyon looked up and saw Draken pointing at him and another student—this one had white hair and dark, pitch-black eyes. He was carrying a bow.
Once all the students had been paired up, Draken spoke again. "Now that everyone has a partner, we'll have you all fight one by one. Those watching—assess your fellow classmates and point out therem mistakes and strengths."
Draken scanned the group sharply, like a hawk searching for prey, then pointed. "You two—go first."
Elyon and the white-haired boy stepped forward and faced each other. Elyon briefly considered the mysterious nature of their instructor.
Then Draken roared, "FIGHT!"
Elyon stood still, calculating his advantage.
Suddenly, the white-haired boy fired a flaming arrow. Elyon dodged left, narrowly avoiding it. Wondering if the boy had a plan, Elyon charged, sword raised. His opponent leaped back, loosing a volley of arrows. Elyon blocked with his sword but felt a few graze his arm.
Elyon retaliated with a bolt of light, which the boy dodged. The boy then created a barrier of violent wind. Elyon tried to push through, but the force repelled him.
Elyon's eyes narrowed, the wind whipping around him as the barrier of violent air pressed him back. But he wasn't done—not yet. His mind sparked with clarity as he cast his next spell.
Arcana Ray.
A brilliant line of focused magic energy surged from Elyon's left hand, bright as a shooting star and humming with raw power. It punched through the wind barrier with a screeching crack, breaking it apart like shattered glass. The barrier exploded into swirling gusts, leaving the white-haired boy suddenly exposed.
The moment the shield fell, the boy moved. Swift and nimble, he darted forward with surprising speed. Elyon's instincts kicked in—he planted his feet and shifted into a defensive stance, sword angled downward but ready to swing upward. He could sense the boy's focus, the tension in his muscles. The clash was coming.
Just when the boy was only a few feet away, he sprang into the air, flipping backward. Mid-flip, his bow came up with uncanny precision. A single fire arrow ignited at the string and fired mid-spin, toward Elyon like a comet.
Elyon reacted instantly, turning sharply to his right in a smooth 180-degree pivot. The arrow flew past his shoulder, missing by inches and searing the air beside him.
Elyon raised his hand again. This time, he activated Magnes Shield—a magical defensive barrier that shimmered into existence in a glowing blue arc around his body. Sparks flickered across its surface as it stabilized, giving off a low hum like vibrating crystal.
The white-haired boy landed gracefully several meters away, the fire in his eyes dimmed by focus. He narrowed his gaze, studying Elyon carefully. The blue shield glowed softly in the fading light, surrounding Elyon like a radiant armor. Neither of them moved. The arena went quiet for a heartbeat, filled only with the low whisper of wind and the soft buzz of the shield.
Then.
The boy loosed another arrow, but this one was a feint—Elyon blocked it easily with his sword. The movement was deliberate, and the boy lost sight of Elyon behind the steel edge.
Elyon seized the moment.
With his right hand holding the sword in a high guard, he charged magical energy into his left. In a flash, he released Arcana Ray again—this time firing directly through the translucent surface of the Magnes Shield. The shield amplified the energy, bending the ray like a lens and making it even more unpredictable.
The beam shot forward.
The boy's eyes widened in surprise. He threw himself sideways, narrowly avoiding the blast. The ray grazed the edge of his tunic, burning a clean hole through it as he rolled across the ground. Dust kicked up around him, and he came to a stop on one knee, breathing heavily.
Elyon wasn't letting up. He dashed forward, closing the distance with a quick burst of speed. Then he leapt into the air and brought his sword down in a powerful lunge.
The boy gritted his teeth and raised his bow—not to fire, but to block. The two weapons met with a sharp clang, the force of the impact driving the boy back. Elyon landed on his feet, but the boy, still defending, stomped hard on the ground.
Something shifted.
A low rumble came from beneath them, and Elyon's eyes widened as jagged pillars of earth erupted upward from the ground. They shot toward the sky with violent force, forcing Elyon to dodge mid-movement. He leapt backward, narrowly avoiding being impaled as the stone formations shot up like spears.
Elyon jumped as the earth beneath him surged and jagged stone pillars shot upward in every direction. Thinking fast, he twisted in midair and extended his left hand, catching the edge of one of the rising columns. The momentum launched him even higher, giving him a sudden burst of aerial advantage.
As he soared upward, Elyon spun his body, aligning himself above his opponent. Time seemed to slow. From above, he aimed his sword downward, locking his eyes on the white-haired boy below. The boy, still recovering from the force of the last explosion, looked up—eyes wide.
There was no time to react.
The boy's bow slipped from his grasp as he tried to shield himself with an arm. But Elyon wasn't aiming to kill. At the last possible second, just as the full weight of his descent came down, Elyon pulled back, stopping his blade a mere inch from the boy's neck.
A tense silence followed.
Then Elyon stepped back, breathing heavily, lowering his weapon. The boy remained frozen, eyes still on the blade that could have ended the match seconds earlier.
Draken's voice rang out through the arena.
"Fight's over."
The two students slowly turned toward him. The other classmates, gathered along the edges of the field, leaned in with focused attention.
Draken walked forward a few paces, his sharp eyes sweeping across the spectators. His tone was calm but commanding.
"So," he began, "from this fight—what mistakes were made?"
Luke raised his hand and spoke.
"While the black-haired one—Elyon—started with a solid strategy, he seemed to abandon it halfway through without a clear follow-up. He left several openings, especially when he leapt into the air. His final strike was powerful, but he focused too much on force and not enough on positioning—it left him exposed.
As for the white-haired one, casting that wind barrier so dramatically made it easy to anticipate. And while switching to melee was unexpected, it didn't lead to much. It felt more like desperation than strategy."
After a few more students offered their thoughts—some sharp, others hesitant—Draken nodded with a grunt of approval.
"Enough. Good observations," he said, his voice cutting through the settling quiet. His eyes swept the group again, sharp as ever.
Then he pointed.
"You two. You're up."
Luke stepped forward, calm and composed, his spear gripped tightly in one hand. Opposite him, the red-haired boy with the striking yellow eyes cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, his sword gleaming under the training arena lights.
They moved into position, the ground between them clearing as the other students backed away.
Draken's voice rang out once more.
"Begin!"
In a flash, the red-haired boy casted quickstep, a soft red glow wrapping around his legs. He blurred forward with a burst of speed, sword drawn in a reverse grip, aiming to close the gap quickly.
Luke remained calm. At the last second, he stomped the ground—Earth Wall erupted upward. The stone barrier rose between them just in time, and the red-haired boy slammed into it, absorbing the blow but staggering slightly. His body shimmered faintly—Iron hide.
"Smart," Luke muttered, already moving.
He slid to the side, spun on one foot, and thrust his palm forward. A sharp beam of water—Water Cannon—erupted from his hand, blasting through the edge of the stone wall and forcing the red-haired boy to leap back.
The red-haired boy landed, knees bent, chest rising. With a quick inhale, he casted mend, regaining some of the stamina from his early rush. Then, without warning, he dashed again—faster this time—swinging his sword in a wide arc aimed at Luke's ribs.
Luke ducked low and kicked off the ground. His body flared with Fire Step, propelling him backward in a fiery streak just outside the blade's reach. Dust and scorched grass trailed behind him.
As Luke landed, he spun his spear in a wide circle, then launched a burst of Wind Cutter blades from the arc of his swing. Razor-sharp air slashes sliced toward the red-haired boy.
With a grunt, the boy raised his forearm, shimmering silver—Steel Body absorbing most of the impact. Still, a shallow cut opened on his cheek. He didn't hesitate—Heal lit his hand, sealing the wound quickly.
Then he charged again. Not just forward, but under.
Sliding low, sword scraping the dirt, he caught Luke by surprise. He swept the blade upward—Luke leapt, barely avoiding the upward slash—but the red-haired boy twisted and rose with a powerful knee strike that slammed into Luke's side.
Luke staggered back, breath knocked out of him. But even in pain, his mind stayed sharp.
Fire Step.
He vanished in a short streak of flame, reappearing behind his opponent, eyes burning with focus. Without hesitation, he swept his spear horizontally.
The red-haired boy twisted just in time, his sword raised, and the metal-on-metal clash rang out like a bell. Sparks flew. Both boys were locked, pressing against each other, strength against strength.
"I'm not done!" Luke shouted, and point-blank—
Water Cannon.
The high-pressure blast caught the red-haired boy in the chest, sending him tumbling backward. He flipped mid-fall, digging his blade into the ground to slow himself. He panted, muscles shaking, and used Recory again—pushing himself back to his feet with sheer force of will.
But Luke wasn't going to give him space.
Another Wind Cutter burst from his spear as he lunged, forcing the boy to dodge left—straight into Luke's waiting path. Luke planted his foot, used Fire Step again to flicker behind him, and swept the butt of his spear into the boy's back.
The red-haired boy hit the ground hard. He tried to rise, sword trembling in his grip, but Luke was already above him—spear tip leveled at his throat.
A pause. The red-haired boy met his gaze.
Then lowered his blade.
Luke stood tall, sweat dripping from his brow, chest heaving.
Draken's voice cut through the silence.
"Enough the fights over''
Murmurs of approval echoed around the ring. Luke lowered his spear and extended a hand to his opponent. The red-haired boy took it, a faint smirk on his face.
"You hit hard," he muttered.
"You don't go down easy," Luke replied.
Draken stepped forward, arms crossed.
"Well fought. Now—what did we learn from this match?"
Elyon raised his hand.
"The black-haired boy—Luke—made a few key mistakes. After casting Earth Wall, he didn't follow up while his opponent was off-balance. He also used Fire Step too many times in quick succession. Overusing it like that makes his movement predictable.
As for the red-haired one, he burned through his spells too early in the fight. He didn't take full advantage of the knee strike he landed, and he focused too much on charging in head-on instead of mixing up his approach."
After a few more matches played out—each one filled with clashes of spell and steel—the class continued with steady rhythm. Students watched, learned, and pointed out each other's flaws, guided sharply by Draken's firm voice.
Finally, the last pair stepped off the field.
Draken crossed his arms, scanning the group.
"That's it for today. Dismissed."
The students dispersed, some chatting quietly, others moving in silence, exhausted but thoughtful.
As Elyon made his way back toward the dorms, the fading sunlight casting long shadows on the stone paths, he let out a deep sigh.
"Man… that was a long day."