The construction lot was quieter than usual.

  Even the wind seemed to hesitate.

  Leor stood on one end of the open concrete clearing. Arin stood opposite him, twenty meters away.

  No joking now.

  No casual tone.

  Just focus.

  They had rested.

  Hydrated.

  Arin’s mother had insisted on checking both of them before they left.

  “Nothing reckless,” she warned.

  Arin had smiled too confidently.

  Now, as the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the broken beams and concrete slabs, Leor exhaled slowly.

  “One round,” he reminded.

  “One controlled round,” Arin corrected.

  They nodded.

  Arin raised his hands.

  Frost bloomed instantly.

  Six shards formed.

  Then ten.

  Then fourteen.

  They hovered in formation—three forward, four overhead, three flanking, two behind, two low guard.

  Leor felt the air shift as temperature dropped.

  He extended his palm slightly.

  Invisible pressure gathered.

  “Ready?” Arin asked.

  Leor nodded.

  Arin moved first.

  The forward three shards launched.

  Not straight.

  Curved.

  Controlled arcs converging from different angles.

  Leor didn’t step back.

  He pushed.

  Not a wide burst.

  A narrow palm vector.

  The first shard halted midair with a sharp crack of force.

  Push sideways.

  It ricocheted into a steel beam.

  The second came from the left.

  Leor twisted, compressed the atmosphere around his palm smaller than before—

  Push.

  The shard shattered instantly, fragments spraying outward.

  The third curved downward toward his legs.

  Leor didn’t look.

  He felt the shift in air density.

  Pushed downward.

  The ground beneath him cracked as counterforce launched him upward half a meter.

  The shard embedded into the concrete where he’d stood.

  Arin’s eyes sharpened.

  “Better,” he muttered.

  He advanced.

  The overhead shards dropped simultaneously.

  A rain of ice.

  Leor thrust both palms upward.

  Push.

  A dome of compressed air burst outward, halting several shards—but two slipped through.

  One sliced his sleeve.

  The other grazed his shoulder.

  Cold burned instantly.

  Leor gritted his teeth.

  So that’s what controlled intensity feels like.

  Arin wasn’t holding back speed.

  Only lethality.

  Leor landed and immediately countered.

  He thrust his palm forward.

  A focused palm-shaped blast tore across the distance.

  Arin raised a shield instantly.

  The imprint slammed into it.

  Cracks spidered across the ice in the shape of Leor’s hand.

  The shield shattered.

  Arin slid backward three meters.

  He grinned.

  “That’s new.”

  Leor’s wristband flickered.

  Energy rising faster than yesterday.

  He ignored it.

  Arin split his remaining shards.

  Four became eight thinner blades.

  They rotated rapidly, forming a spinning perimeter around him.

  He lunged forward.

  The blades launched in sequence, not all at once.

  Staggered timing.

  Leor reacted to the first three easily.

  Push. Redirect. Shatter.

  The fourth slipped past his left side and nicked his rib.

  Pain flared.

  He instinctively tried to push the pain out—

  —but something strange happened.

  It didn’t leave cleanly.

  It dulled—but a wave of dizziness followed.

  His vision wavered.

  He staggered half a step.

  Arin noticed instantly.

  “You okay?”

  “Focus!” Leor snapped.

  Arin’s hesitation cost him.

  Leor thrust his palm toward the ground.

  Push.

  A concussive blast rippled forward through the concrete.

  Arin’s footing destabilized.

  He nearly fell—but formed ice beneath his boots, anchoring himself.

  He raised both hands.

  The temperature plummeted dramatically.

  Moisture condensed rapidly in the air.

  More than before.

  Leor felt it immediately.

  The atmosphere thickened unnaturally.

  “You’re overdoing it,” Leor warned.

  Arin’s breath fogged heavily.

  “I need volume to overwhelm you.”

  Behind him, ice began forming—not shards this time—

  Walls.

  Three vertical slabs rose from the ground.

  Then two more.

  They curved inward.

  A partial enclosure.

  Leor realized too late—

  Arin wasn’t attacking.

  He was limiting space.

  The walls closed in.

  Leor thrust both palms outward.

  Push.

  The nearest wall cracked—but didn’t shatter fully.

  Denser.

  Reinforced.

  Arin had learned.

  A dozen smaller shards formed overhead again.

  “Let’s see how precise you really are,” Arin called.

  They dropped all at once.

  Leor compressed the push radius tighter than ever before.

  Not palm-sized.

  Smaller.

  He flicked his fingers forward.

  Push.

  Five shards stopped simultaneously midair.

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  The recoil slammed into his skull like a hammer.

  Blood trickled faintly from his nose.

  He ignored it.

  He rotated his wrist slightly.

  Push sideways.

  The five shards reversed direction—flying back toward Arin.

  Arin’s eyes widened.

  He barely raised a shield in time.

  The redirected shards exploded against it.

  The shield held—

  Then cracked violently.

  Arin stumbled.

  His breath hitched.

  The walls behind Leor suddenly surged inward.

  Arin hadn’t dismissed them.

  Leor turned and thrust both palms outward in opposite directions.

  Push.

  The left wall exploded into fragments.

  The right wall shattered.

  But the force rebound hit him hard.

  The snapback pressure returned—

  Stronger.

  Like something resisting his output.

  His ears rang.

  For a split second—

  The world felt heavy.

  Like the dream.

  Pressure descending from above.

  He dropped to one knee.

  Arin saw it.

  The frost aura around him flickered violently.

  His shards destabilized.

  Two shattered midair.

  His breathing grew ragged.

  Cold spread visibly along his arms—not just aura now—

  Frost creeping across his skin.

  Uncontrolled.

  Leor looked up.

  “Arin—your arms.”

  Arin glanced down.

  The frost had begun crawling past his wrists.

  His fingers stiffened.

  “…That’s not intentional.”

  His ability was feeding on ambient moisture aggressively now.

  Temperature around them plunged several degrees.

  The concrete beneath their feet grew slick.

  Side effect.

  Overgeneration.

  Leor forced himself upright.

  He pushed gently—not at Arin—

  At the surrounding atmosphere.

  He dispersed moisture density outward.

  The air thinned slightly.

  Arin’s frost growth slowed.

  But the effort cost Leor.

  His head throbbed violently.

  He tasted iron.

  Arin clenched his jaw and forced a breath.

  The frost retreated slightly.

  “I can’t hold high volume long,” he admitted.

  Leor wiped blood from his nose.

  “I can’t overcompress repeatedly.”

  They stood there.

  Breathing heavily.

  Bruised.

  Cold.

  Exhausted.

  And then—

  Without discussing it—

  They both moved at once.

  Arin launched everything he had left.

  Six shards.

  Fast.

  Unpredictable.

  Leor stepped forward instead of back.

  He didn’t widen his push.

  He focused everything into one narrow line.

  He thrust his palm directly toward Arin’s center.

  Push.

  The compressed vector punched through the air.

  It struck Arin’s torso—

  Not hard enough to break—

  But enough to send him sliding backward violently across the concrete.

  At the same time—

  Two shards clipped Leor’s thigh and shoulder.

  He felt cold bite deep.

  They both fell.

  Silence.

  Dust drifting slowly.

  The frost aura faded.

  The pressure around Leor dissipated.

  For several seconds, neither moved.

  Then Arin groaned.

  “…Okay.”

  Leor lay staring at the sky.

  “…That was intense.”

  Arin laughed weakly.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “You’re freezing.”

  Arin rolled onto his side.

  The frost along his arms had finally stopped spreading, but his fingers trembled slightly.

  “I lose thermal balance if I overproduce,” he said quietly. “Body starts matching output.”

  Leor nodded slowly.

  “My snapback gets stronger the more force I compress.”

  Arin blinked.

  “Snapback?”

  “Like… the world pushes back.”

  Arin was silent at that.

  Leor sat up slowly.

  Every muscle protested.

  His skull still throbbed faintly.

  “That’s our hidden cost,” Leor said.

  “Mine is overcooling.”

  “Mine is pressure recoil.”

  Arin let out a slow breath.

  “Arcane’s resilience phase is going to exploit that.”

  “Yeah.”

  They sat there for a while longer before standing slowly.

  Bruised.

  Exhausted.

  But sharper.

  Stronger.

  More aware.

  As they began walking back toward the city—

  Neither of them noticed the figure standing atop a distant unfinished building.

  High above the construction lot.

  Watching.

  A young woman.

  Silver hair tied high.

  Arcane Academy insignia stitched into the collar of her dark jacket.

  Her eyes glowed faintly as she lowered a small monocular device.

  “Interesting,” she murmured.

  Her wristband pulsed once.

  Data transmitted.

  “Two candidates,” she said softly. “Unpolished. But dangerous.”

  Her gaze lingered on Leor.

  “The pressure user… feels unstable.”

  She smiled faintly.

  “Good.”

  She turned and stepped off the edge of the building—

  —and didn’t fall.

  Gravity bent subtly around her as she descended effortlessly to the street below.

  “One week,” she whispered.

  “Let’s see if you survive Arcane.”