With the break nearly over, Kael hurried through the dim corridors toward the preparation room. As soon as he pushed the door open, all eyes turned to him.

  Only one person reacted with visible surprise:

  Liam. His expression tightened when he saw Kael—not furious, not trembling with rage, not even tense.

  Just...calm. Collected. Untouched.

  Cassandra blinked as well, taken aback by the change in him. However, Kael didn’t notice her look. His gaze locked solely on Liam’s, steady and unreadable.

  Before either of them could speak, a familiar voice cut through the air beside him.

  “Student Kael.” Professor Jade stood there, arms folded, her expression a mixture of reprimand and relief. “You are just in time. Go to your seat and wait for the final announcements.”

  Kael nodded briefly and walked to his seat without sparing Liam another glance. Liam’s jaw tightened; his irritation was plain to see. Something had happened during the break that he hadn’t accounted for, and Kael’s sudden composure disturbed him.

  When Kael sat down, the atmosphere shifted. Professor Jade stepped forward, her posture tall and commanding. Her eyes swept over every remaining student.

  “Serena.” Her gaze moved.

  “Samuel. Cassandra.”

  Another pause.

  "Kael."

  And finally—

  "Liam."

  Her voice echoed faintly off the stone walls.

  "You five are the finalists. One more round remains, along with the opportunity to accomplish what only a few students have ever achieved in this academy's history. Give everything you have left."

  She let the weight of her words sink into the silence.

  "There will be no rules in this final round. A fighter is out when he surrenders or loses consciousness. Of course, the top three will receive the usual reward."

  Her tone shifted, becoming sharper and heavier.

  "But," she continued, her eyes lingering meaningfully on her students, "the champion will receive an additional prize. It's a gift provided personally by the Emperor, issued on short notice after he heard how exceptional this year's candidates are."

  A quiet murmur rippled through the room.

  Expectant. Nervous. Hungry.

  Kael lifted his head, his attention sharpening. Every finalist, including Cassandra, wore a look of surprise. No one had expected an additional reward.

  "The champion," Professor Jade continued, "will receive, in addition to the right to become a professor's disciple, a sword forged out of Motarith."

  A ripple of disbelief went through the room.

  Motarith. A metal spoken of in legends. A material reserved for the elite, the untouchable, the imperial.

  Kael felt his breath catch. His eyes widened, as did everyone else's.

  Even Cassandra, usually calm and composed, couldn’t hide her shock.

  "Professor..." she began, her voice almost solemn. "Its value is immeasurable. Not even I could obtain such a weapon. Isn’t this excessive?”

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  Professor Jade’s expression softened, and a rare warmth flickered in her eyes.

  "I am aware," she replied quietly. "The academy itself is not pleased. But the emperor insisted the sword be given to the winner." Her gaze swept the room, steady and solemn. "There is, however, one restriction. It must not be used until the wielder graduates.”

  Silence settled like dust.

  The weight of the Emperor’s involvement hung in the air. The magnitude of the prize. The gravity of the final round.

  Each student processed the news in their own way. Some with awe; others with hungry resolve.

  Kael noticed the exchange of glances between Liam and Samuel. So the cooperation ends here, he mused. A sword like that is worth more than an alliance with Liam’s family. Still, they’ll come after me first. That much won’t change.

  He began running through possible strategies to avoid being targeted the moment the round began. However, a sharp voice cut through his thoughts.

  “All right, time’s up!” Instructor Turin announced loudly and impatiently. “Serena, Samuel, Cassandra, and Liam. Follow me. Student Kael, stay where you are.”

  The four finalists rose and fell in line behind Turin, leaving Kael alone with Professor Jade.

  He glanced at her, wondering why he was the only one held back. Her face gave nothing away; it was calm and unreadable. So he simply exhaled and waited.

  After a quiet minute, Professor Jade stood up; her robes whispered against the stone floor. She opened the door.

  "It's time," she said softly and motioned toward the corridor.

  Kael stood up and walked past her. Just as the door began to close behind him, he heard a faint voice say: “Good luck.”

  He paused for a moment, just long enough to register the unexpected warmth, before the door shut, leaving him alone with the echoing corridor ahead.

  He walked through the inner passage beneath the arena, his footsteps swallowed by the noise above. The sound grew louder with each step: muffled shouts, stamping feet, and cheers rolling like distant thunder.

  Finally, he reached a closed iron gate.

  Kael stopped. He inhaled slowly, grounding himself. The crowd roared on the other side.

  Then, mechanisms clicked. The gate shuddered and the chains rattled as it began to lift inch by inch.

  Light spilled through the opening, blinding him after the dim corridor. Kael raised a hand to shield his eyes as the roar of the arena washed over him. It was no longer muted, but deafening and vast.

  He stepped forward into the light.

  Into the final round.

  Once his eyes had adjusted to the brightness, Kael swept his gaze across the arena. The other four contestants stepped out of their respective corridors at a distance from him, spaced far enough apart to avoid immediate conflict yet close enough that tension hung between them like taut threads.

  Kael exhaled slowly, then looked up toward the podium.

  Two unfamiliar figures now stood beside the Vice-Headmaster. They were a young man and a young woman, both his age or maybe a year older. Their clothes were woven from fabrics so exquisite that they seemed almost unreal against the rough stone backdrop. Their brown hair, posture, and ornate accessories radiated subtle authority and the kind of elegance that only birth could buy.

  The girl rested her cheek against her palm and stared down at the arena with an expression hovering between boredom and disdain. She idly tapped one finger against her jaw as if the entire event were an inconvenience she had decided to tolerate.

  The man beside her was probably her brother. His expression was more controlled but no less aloof, exuding a calm, practiced superiority that didn't need to prove itself. He assessed the arena as one might examine livestock at an auction.

  Kael frowned. He didn’t recognize them, and in this empire, not recognizing nobles of that status meant they were extremely highborn.

  His suspicion was confirmed a moment later.

  "Dear spectators and contestants," the vice headmaster boomed, his voice echoing around the arena with practiced ease. “Please join me in welcoming His Highness Prince Arthur and Her Highness Princess Artelia, who have graced us with their presence for today’s final round.”

  A wave of applause rolled through the stands. Many students bowed deeply toward the podium.

  Princess Artelia lifted a delicate hand and waved, smiling beautifully yet distantly. In contrast, Prince Arthur merely inclined his head once, acknowledging the cheers with minimal interest.

  He rose from his seat with practiced grace and stepped forward, allowing the entire arena to see him clearly. "We expect to witness battles worthy of this academy's reputation," he said in a voice that was rich and controlled with a hint of impatience beneath the courtesy. "Our father has sent us to observe the finest students this institution has produced."

  Artelia gave an exaggerated sigh at the word "finest," as if doubting that such people existed.

  "And," Arthur continued, "he has granted me the honor of personally awarding the victor."

  A ripple went through the crowd.

  His eyes swept over the contestants slowly, assessing and judging subtly. When they reached Kael, they paused. Not out of interest, but out of calculation, as though measuring whether he was worth the academy's time.

  Artelia’s gaze flickered over the finalists, too. Her expression shifted for a heartbeat, showing faint curiosity, then immediately dismissed him, her boredom settling back like a mask.

  “So,” Arthur concluded, stepping back with princely precision, “show us that you are worthy of claiming this relic.”