The baton comes down.

The boy darts toward me, like a bull that saw a red rag, the point of his spear wobbling slightly off center, turning toward me. Each stamp of his feet kicks up golden dust spirals from the sand. It's as if he wanted to end the fight with the first lunge, or intimidate me, and make me freeze in surprise and indecision. But he won't last long like this. He will wear himself out before long.

He seems already to be slowing down, and he hasn't even reached me.

I shake my head, then side-step slightly, timing it with his arrival, stepping in and around his lunge. I bring my spear across in a tight arc, swatting the oncoming shaft aside. Our spears connect with a dull thump.

The sharp point of his weapon goes wide off course, whistling half a step past my shoulder while I use the rebound of the parry to whip at his biceps in passing, managing to graze him with the tip.

He stumbles backward, seeming more shocked than hurt. Well, what did you expect?

The first exchange his over. I'm fine. He has a trickle of blood running over his arm from a small gash on the side of his shoulder, not that it should impede him much.

I wonder what would happen if one of us received a serious injury. Would the teachers heal us? Do they heal everybody or just those who are going to stay at the academy? How good are the healers? I need to be cautious just in case.

I circle him, giving him a few probing thrusts to see his reaction.

I hold the spear in both hands, pointing toward his midsection, angled downward. I take one step to close the distance and lunge, letting the shaft of my spear slide through my forward hand to extend my reach. He tries to block with a wild flail, forgetting to shift his body, managing to barely deflect the point of my spear because I didn't put much momentum behind the strike. He tries to press his shaft against my spear to catch the base of the metal point on the retreat, and get us into some bind, but my spear slips past too fast, and I'm already mid-step back. I doubt it would have worked that well anyway. It seems like a technique designed against something different, a halberd or a poleaxe, something that could get tangled. My next step takes me to the side to be able to thrust at him from a slightly different angle. It's almost like a dance. I feel nimble on my feet, my breath barely strained.

His spear does look a bit as if someone wanted to forge a halberd but didn't know how. They forgot to add the beak and the axe-blade. It's more as if someone decided to tie a heavy cutlass to a stick, sharpening it on both sides and giving it a narrow point. That leaves the boy with a weird, top-heavy spear, half a hand shorter than mine, which makes the tip dip down when he extends his thrusts and makes his weapon slow to change direction. I also feel like I have a slight reach advantage despite his larger arms.

He looks at me, narrowing his eyes, clutching his spear with both hands so hard that his knuckles go white.

His reactions are slow. Slower than I would have expected from someone with a higher cultivation than mine. The disadvantage of being born into it, I suppose.

There is little coordination between his thrusts and strikes and his footwork. Each time he lunges, his feet lag behind him. It makes him overextend himself and stumble when I readjust my stance too fast.

I have the impression that the spear isn't his primary weapon. Or maybe it is, but he is just that bad. Well, I suppose he has the last position in the ranking for a reason. No wonder they are trying to trick newcomers into a fight. It could have even worked; they just got the wrong one.

I feel almost embarrassed for him. Maybe that Thurstan boy, that Bae made me fight, really was a genius. I'm beginning to believe it. Fighting Bin Po feels more like a light sparring session against a wooden puppet, whose return strikes are slow and predictable, lacking structure.

If this is what they teach at this academy, I'm not impressed. I won't need any runes to trash him thoroughly. He is already huffing and panting. A few more gashes decorate his arms. Sweat runs down his cheeks and his shoulder, mixing with the blood. That has to sting.

The question is, how much should I show? My physical attributes seem way higher than his. If I go all out, it could look suspicious. It would reveal that my attributes are higher than those of most students with my cultivation rank. Most people would probably think that I am some hidden scion, trained from a young age. Or maybe a hidden bodyguard, because I'm too old to be a scion with my cultivation at my age in their eyes. Both would fit with the fact that I have a spatial ring, those are somewhat expensive for a commoner. Do I want the attention that would bring?

I glance at the stands, the clusters of bored onlookers, at the referee, swatting away an incoming thrust almost without thinking.

Kenae and Enea look excited, leaning forward against the railing as far as they can. Kylo sits on Enea's shoulder, his chest puffed out as if he were proud to be associated with me.

The referee looks at my opponent with furrowed brows and curled lips, shaking his head as if utterly disappointed by his performance.

The registrar stands utterly still; his hands clutch the railing. He keeps opening his mouth, then closing it, casting me a dark look as if I had deceived and betrayed him.

I almost snort, swatting away another thrust, serves him right, him and my opponent. They shouldn't try to trick the system. Well, I actually wouldn't care. But they shouldn't have picked me as their victim.

"You!" wheezes my opponent, leaning on his spear for support, the bottom of the shaft buried in the loose sand. "Lai Lai promised me this would be easy." He turns, following me, lifting his spear, trying to keep the point between us. "Stand your ground like a warrior!"

"Are you an idiot?" I snort. A fit of laughter bubbles up my throat.

"You! You dare to mock me?" He narrows his eyes as if holding back a storm of emotions. His nostrils flare like an animal about to erupt. His huffs and pants make it look rather comical than intimidating. "I'll show you!" He takes a step back, still holding his spear between us to keep me away. Mana starts concentrating around his chest. A technique? Out of curiosity, I wait and give him the space to complete it without harassing him. "Second wind!" he yells.

His breath slows and steadies. His movements become faster and smoother again. It looks as if someone removed a heavy boulder from his shoulders, as if he just started the fight.

My eyes widen in amazement. Are there techniques like that? I need to look into it as soon as possible. I have no idea how to replicate something like this with runes, if it's even possible. For all the versatility runes have, they create external effects. They don't affect the capabilities of your body directly.

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Is it necessary to yell them out, though? That would be problematic on any stealth mission. It would expose you to everyone in hearing range.

It also seems inconvenient in a regular fight, because it gives away your intentions to those who know what the technique is.

I swat another lunge away. The impact makes an audible clank which echoes around the stands. My arms tremble. Does the boy's technique even make him stronger? Or am I getting sloppy?

I take a few steps back, putting some distance between us. I feel a grudging respect. Bin Po doesn't seem in a hurry to follow and instead raises his spear high over his head. Mana begins to gather along the metallic cutlass. Something crackles and gathers there, as if he were calling for a storm and the sky decided to answer.

"The wandering hurricane pierces the heavens!"

A flash of silver flies toward me, whistling through the air with lethal intent. I barely manage to step sideways, out of the trajectory, and shift the point away from my midsection with the shaft of my spear. The crack of wood against wood rings in my ears, loud and jarring.

Pain flares at the side of my belly, just below the floating ribs. It isn't a dangerous wound, but it feels like a slap to my face to make me focus and not get cocky. That was way too fast. I only managed to react thanks to the reflexes ingrained in me by Bae. A reminder that I shouldn't underestimate anybody.

Well, here goes trying to keep a low profile. The decision has been stolen. Now, everybody has seen my speed whether I want to or not. Now, everybody who watched this will think I'm a scion; my reactions were too fast.

I try to take a step, but stumble. There is some lingering mana in the wound, crackling and hissing, locking my body mid-movement. It could get dangerous fast if I don't address it. I feel a rush of excitement flaring in my chest. Maybe this is a challenge after all.

I try to flush the foreign mana out of my body with a wave of mana from my core. A few small lightning bolts run over my skin and then dissipate, leaving a smell of singed hair in their wake. Some of the skin around the wound got slightly charred. To my relief, my movements are smooth again.

"You!" yells the boy again. "Hold still!" I give him a side glance before closing the distance between us, stalking him like a cat. "It doesn't matter. I got you good. Didn't I? This time you won't be able to move out of the way." He raises the point of his spear again. "The wand…"

Yeah, I'm not going to let you finish your technique again! I close the distance between us in a blur, raising a trail of dust, swinging out with my spear in a wide arc, and bash the shaft through his raised spear as he tries to move it in the way in the last instant. Both spears crash into his temple.

There is a crack, then he drops to the ground like a sack of potatoes. His spear falls out of his hands by his side.

I point the tip of my spear against the neck of his fallen body and look up at the referee.

The man sighs, rubbing his eyes. "Winner, Minae, no clan!" He announces. "Congratulations, you have achieved rank number 100 of the seventeen-year-old cohort." He looks down at the rapidly blinking boy and sighs again, crossing his arms over his chest with a silent frown as if waiting for the boy to get out of his daze.

The boy tries to sit up but wobbles and almost falls over again. He shakes his head, steadying himself with his arms spread wide like a triangle. "What happened?"

"Bin Po, pick up your belongings and leave, you are no longer welcome at this academy," declares the referee with a stern gaze.

The boy blinks again, still seeming a bit out of it.

"What?" yells the registrar from the stands in a high-pitched tone. "Bin Po may have lost this fight, but he still has a chance left next month to get a ranking back."

The referee whips his head around and frowns at the registrar. "And I am expelling him now. He lost against a complete newcomer in a frankly pathetic fashion. What has he been doing all this time? Our Han clan has no place for those who squander its resources instead of training."

Is the referee part of the main Han clan? Interesting. He could be another thread to pull to get closer to their estate if I catch his attention and make friends with him. But I feel a bit wary about the idea, he seems like a no-nonsense guy and is frankly intimidating. I think that manipulating a pampered girl should be easier and safer.

The registrar turns pale. "What? You can't do that," he complains. "The rules say that…"

"Are you questioning me, Bin Lai?" interjects the referee. "Are you saying that I lack the authority?"

The air turns heavy, as if the shadows had forgotten to breathe. There is a shift in the ambient mana. Something crawls down my spine like ice. There is blood, a predator. I don't know where, but I can feel it. The hairs on my arms rise as if pulled by invisible strings. My heartbeat slows, not out of calm, but out of the desire to hide, to lie down, to remain unnoticed. There is no mistaking the feeling: not just danger, but intent, bloodthirst, a desire to remind prey of their place.

I feel as if my feet have grown roots in the sand, holding me in place, but I manage to shift my eyes and glance at the referee. His attention isn't even on me, but fixed on Bin Lai. The whole crowd is frozen.

The registrar's gulp resonates through the silence like a gong.

He bows deeply, hitting his head against the ground in his hurry. "No, of course not, master," he glances up like a beaten dog. "Forgive my insolence, I'll see the wasteful scoundrel removed myself."

"Good," grunts the referee. He turns toward me, the edges of his lips twitch upward for a second. "No clan, huh? I'm almost eager to see you in my class. Maybe it will make the slackers put some effort in," he mumbles. He picks my opponent's spear up from the ground, shakes the grit off with a twirl, and rests it on his shoulder before walking toward the arena's entrance with all the calm in the world.

The registrar casts me a glare meant to cut, slow, and cold, as if he wanted to dissect me here and now with quiet contempt, but propriety and the fact that there are witnesses keep him from it. He stares at me, his face barely moving, a fire in his eyes, his jaws tense as if holding back bitterness and frustration. Then he scoffs, jumps into the arena, and walks toward my still-sitting former opponent. He grabs him by the shoulder and drags him away without looking back, leaving a deep furrow in the sand.

I think I made an enemy. I sigh and crack my neck, dispelling the tension. It's not like I was searching for trouble. Trouble came after me.

I hope I can keep out of that man's way. It's not like he seemed that high in the academy's hierarchy or personally strong after all. More like one of those petty and frustrated individuals with no real strength, trying to lord every sliver of power they have over those they believe they can bully. My power is growing fast. He won't be able to do anything to me once I become stronger than he is. Until then, I can try to keep out of his way.

A white blur darts through the arena, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake and interrupting my musings. Two girls follow close behind.

"Sister good, sister strong, sister bash, thwonk, splash. Bad boy weak, fall," Kylo's ramblings batter against my consciousness as he races up my leg to balance himself on my shoulder, his eyes sparkling in excitement. "Boom, bash, slash, BLOOD!"

Has he discovered a new hobby? A liking for observing arena fights? I feel a hollow in my chest. For some reason, the mere idea fills me with dread. What lessons will he learn by observing them?

Kylo looks back toward the arriving girls, preening his paws. A look of smug superiority in his face as if to say: look, you are so slow that I even have time to get the dirt out of my fur.

"That was amazing!" exclaims Enea, panting, a bit flustered from the run.

"Yeah," acknowledges Kenae, giving me a side glance that lingers a bit too long. "I wouldn't have thought you were that fast." The way she speaks to me has changed; a sudden hesitation seems to have crept into her tone. Her gaze flicks to the storage ring on my finger, then away. Then she looks at me as if looking through me into somewhere distant. It feels as if she is reevaluating me, replaying words in her head, and reinterpreting our short time as friends.

I feel my cheeks flush, hot and unwelcome, as if my skin betrayed me. My breath feels too loud. I don't know what to say; words got stuck in my throat. The weight of attention presses on my chest—not admiration, nor hostility, just too much. I feel like I've been thrown into an unwanted spotlight. It's not a role I'm all that comfortable in. But maybe I'll need to learn how to. I swallow, wanting more than anything to shrink into the shadows, to become forgettable. The space where I had my invisibility runes burns with the memory of safety.

"Should we go and see if we can meet our new roommates?" asks Enea, dispelling the tension.

"What? Yeah, sure, that would be great!"

I grasp at the opportunity as if it were a log to hold onto, floating in the middle of an ocean.

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