A full week passed after the festival. Radiance slowly exhaled. The Gilded Blades stood down from full alert, patrols returned to normal rotations, and the tension that had wrapped itself around the kingdom like a clenched fist finally loosened. Whatever Renjiro had planned, if he had planned anything at all, it hadn’t happened. At least… not yet. With the immediate threat gone, Illumina was officially cleared to leave the Kingdom of Radiance once more. The morning they prepared to depart, Shunjiro watched Aiko and Ryuji argue with Tetsuo over breakfast like they’d always been there. Same table. Same noise. Same easy familiarity. It hit him all at once. “…Hey,” Shunjiro said, cutting through the chatter. Aiko looked up, eyebrow raised. “What’s with that tone?” Ryuji tilted his head. “You about to give a speech?” Shunjiro scratched the back of his neck. “You two have been following us around for a while now.” “Wow,” Aiko said dryly. “Very observant.” “No, I mean-” He took a breath. “If you’re going to keep sticking with us… do you want to just actually join Illumina?” The room went quiet. Ryuji blinked. “Like… officially?” Aiko leaned back in her chair, arms folding as she considered it. The teasing grin faded into something more thoughtful. They exchanged a look. Just one. Then Ryuji smiled. “Yeah.” Aiko smirked. “Yeah. I think we do.” Tetsuo slammed his hands on the table. “Yes! More people to punch things with!” Itsuki’s face lit up. “R-really? That would be amazing!” Yoshinori nodded once. “It makes sense.” Shunjiro felt something warm settle in his chest. “Then,” he said, smiling, “welcome to Illumina.” They didn’t have long to celebrate. That afternoon, a formal summons arrived. Illumina, now six strong, was called in for a meeting with Kaito Ishiro and Mei Hoshino. The atmosphere inside the meeting room was… different this time. Not tense. Expectant. Kaito stood near the desk, arms folded, blue cloak draped neatly over his shoulders. Mei leaned casually against the wall, lavender hair cascading down her back, violet eyes sharp with interest. “You’ve all been busy,” Kaito said. He began listing it out. Stopping a slave raid. Subduing a corrupted leader. Surviving an encounter that should have ended in fatalities. Preventing further civilian casualties. “And,” Kaito finished, “exposing threads connected to something far larger.” Mei smiled faintly. “In short? You overperformed.” Tetsuo puffed up instantly. “I knew it.” Kaito continued. “Based on your collective achievements, the Guild Council has approved a recommendation.” Shunjiro straightened. “You are eligible for a direct promotion to C-rank.” For half a second, no one spoke. Then- “Wait, what?!” Tetsuo shouted. Itsuki gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “C-C rank?!” Ryuji let out a low whistle. “That’s… insane.” Aiko grinned. “Told you we were built different.” Shunjiro felt dizzy. C-rank. That wasn’t just a letter. That was recognition. Trust. Access to missions that actually mattered. Then Kaito raised a hand. “There is,” he said evenly, “one condition.” The room quieted instantly. “To finalize the promotion, you will undergo a combat evaluation.” Mei’s smile widened. “A sparring assessment.” Yoshinori frowned. “Against whom?” Kaito met their eyes, one by one. “Three S-rank adventurers.” The air shifted. “…S-rank?” Ryuji repeated. Mei nodded. “From the Titans Guild.” Shunjiro’s breath caught. The name hit him harder than he expected. Titans. His mind flashed back to a conversation weeks ago. “…Aira Tatsuki,” he muttered under his breath. Kaito’s gaze flicked to him. “You recognize the guild.” Shunjiro nodded slowly. “I wanted her to join Illumina. Said the Titans were her sister’s guild.” Mei hummed. “Then you already understand what kind of fighters they produce.” Silence stretched. Three S-ranks. Not a mission. A spar. And still, Shunjiro felt his pulse spike. “…We’re going to fight S-ranks,” he said quietly. Kaito nodded once. “Yes,” he said. “And how you handle yourselves there will decide what the world starts to think of Illumina.” The weight of it settled in. Illumina didn’t hesitate. “We’re ready,” Shunjiro said, voice steady despite the weight pressing against his chest. Kaito studied them for a moment then gave a single nod. “Good. Follow me.” The walk to the training arena was quiet. Stone corridors opened into a massive circular chamber carved deep into the guild’s foundation. The arena floor was reinforced stone etched with old sigils, scars of countless battles fought and survived. High walls rose around it, scorched and cracked in places where power had once been tested without restraint. And they weren’t empty. Three figures already stood at the center. Waiting. Kaito stopped at the edge of the arena. “This is a full combat evaluation,” he said evenly. “You are permitted to go all out. Do not hold back.” Tetsuo swallowed. “…And them?” Mei Hoshino smiled as she stepped forward, lavender hair catching the light. “Don’t worry,” she said lightly. “They can handle it.” She lifted one hand. A pulse of violet light surged outward. Transparent barriers snapped into place around the arena in layered arcs, sealing the space completely. The air shifted, pressure thickening, sound dulling, the world outside suddenly distant. Nothing in. Nothing out. Illumina stepped onto the stone. That’s when the three S-ranks turned to face them. The first was… short. Very short. But the moment Illumina’s eyes adjusted, that impression shattered. The woman stood with feet planted wide, arms thick with corded muscle that strained against her sleeveless armor. Her build was absurd for her height, dense, powerful, forged rather than grown. A dwarfwoman. She had a massive warhammer strapped across her back, the weapon easily twice her size, its head etched with runes worn smooth by years of impact. Braided blonde hair framed her broad grin, orange eyes gleaming with pure excitement. “Oho?” she said, cracking her neck. “So these are the kids everyone’s been yappin’ about?” “Hikari Balrik,” she announced proudly. “And I’ve been itching for this.” Beside her stood a man who couldn’t have been more different. Tall. Lean. Controlled. Silver hair fell neatly around his face, green eyes sharp and openly irritated, as if this entire situation was already wasting his time. A short blade rested at his hip, its hilt worn smooth from constant use. He didn’t smile. Didn’t posture. He simply looked at Illumina like he was calculating how quickly this could be over. “Daichi Takeda,” he said flatly. “Let’s make this efficient.” Shunjiro felt the pressure. Not loud. Not flashy. Just… weight. The third stood a step apart. A beastkin, tall, broad-shouldered, with brown ears twitching nervously atop his head and a fluffy tail that swayed behind him despite his best efforts to stay still. He was looking away. Not arrogantly. Not dismissively. Avoidantly. A massive cleaver hung at his side, its edge nicked and battle-worn. He shifted his weight, fingers tightening and loosening at his side like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “…Roki,” he said quietly. “Nice to… meet you.” His voice was gentle. Almost apologetic. That somehow made him more intimidating. Six against three. F-rank hopefuls against S-rank monsters. Hikari laughed, eyes shining. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.” Daichi sighed. “Just don’t break them.” Roki swallowed, tail flicking. “…I’ll try not to.” Behind them, Mei’s barrier shimmered faintly. Kaito’s voice echoed through the sealed arena. “Begin when ready.” Shunjiro clenched his fist. Illumina squared their stances. And the distance between them suddenly felt very, very small. For a full minute, no one moved. Hikari’s orange eyes flicked from face to face, bright and curious rather than hostile. She rolled her shoulders once, loose, relaxed, like this was a friendly game and not a test against six adventurers bracing for impact. Then her gaze stopped. Locked. “Him,” she said cheerfully. Before the word had fully left her mouth, she vanished. The stone beneath her feet cracked as she launched forward, her small frame blurring with terrifying speed. “-What?!” Tetsuo barked. He reacted a heartbeat too late. His hands clapped together, aura flaring as two massive stone pillars erupted from the ground behind him, angling inward like jaws meant to crush anything charging his position. Hikari didn’t slow. She dropped low, her body folding almost impossibly close to the ground as she slid beneath the converging pillars, braids whipping behind her. The stone collided overhead with a thunderous boom, shards spraying outward. She was already past them. Already closing the distance. “Move!” Shunjiro shouted. Everyone reacted at once. Ryuji didn’t hesitate. He surged forward from the side, body-hardening spreading across his arm as his fist gleamed like forged steel. He aimed not to stop her, just to interrupt her momentum before she reached Tetsuo. “Hey!” Ryuji roared, swinging. Hikari’s body twisted mid-sprint. Not away. Into it. Her hand snapped out, fingers clamping around Ryuji’s hardened wrist with shocking precision. The impact should’ve shattered her grip. Instead, she yanked. Ryuji’s feet left the ground as his momentum betrayed him, balance ripped away in an instant. “Oh!” Hikari laughed, delighted. “You’re fun!” She stepped in close and cocked her fist back. Ryuji barely had time to react. His stomach hardened fully, every ounce of reinforcement he could muster flooding into his core. And then Hikari punched him. There was no flash. No explosion of aura. Just a pure, brutal impact, like a mountain deciding to move. The shockwave rippled outward, the air cracking as Ryuji was lifted clean off the ground, his body folding around the blow despite the hardening. He flew backward, skidding across the stone in a spray of dust before slamming to a stop. The arena fell silent for half a second. Ryuji groaned, rolling onto his side, breath knocked out of him. “…Okay,” he wheezed. “She hits really hard.” Hikari straightened, shaking out her hand like she’d just tested the weight of something solid. “Nice defense!” she said brightly. “Most people don’t stay conscious after that.” Tetsuo stared at her, eyes wide. “…What the hell are you?” Hikari grinned. “A warm-up.” On the opposite side of the arena, the situation unraveled very differently. “-I’m so sorry!” Roki called out as he ran after the two girls, long strides eating up the distance far too quickly. “I-I don’t mean to scare you!” “That’s not helping!” Aiko shouted over her shoulder. Itsuki’s breath came fast as she sprinted, staff clutched tight in her hands. Her mind raced just as quickly. He’s fast. Too fast. Faster than Aiko. Faster than her. And unlike the others, Roki didn’t have the sharp edges of hostility, just raw capability wrapped in apology. All three of them are fighters, Itsuki realized grimly. And I’m not. She tightened her grip on the staff anyway. This should’ve been a chance to improve. To actually use it for more than balance or channeling healing. But against an S-rank like Roki? One wrong move and the fight would be over before she learned anything. Still… of the three, he was their best option. He’ll go easy, she told herself. He has to. Roki was already gaining on them. Aiko clicked her tongue. “Alright. Let’s see how strong you actually are, big guy.” She veered slightly as they ran, eyes sharp. Aiko’s mind flicked instinctively to her swapping technique, then shut it down just as fast. It didn’t work that way. She couldn’t move anything with more spiritual energy than her own. And Roki’s presence was heavy. Solid. Like trying to shove a mountain with bare hands. Swapping him was out of the question. So she adjusted. If she couldn’t move the target, she’d move around him. As they sprinted, Aiko suddenly skidded low, scooping up a handful of loose dirt and gravel. She twisted mid-run and flung it backward with surprising accuracy. The dirt splattered across Roki’s face and into his fur. “O-oh-!” Roki yelped, squeezing his eyes shut. “S-sorry! Getting dirt out of my fur is a real pain-” He blinked. Itsuki was still there. Aiko wasn’t. Roki’s ears flicked. Behind me. He turned just as Aiko appeared out of thin air, her leg already swinging. Spiritual energy wrapped tightly around her foot, sharp and focused, aimed straight for the side of his head. Roki reacted on instinct. His arm snapped up, muscles tensing as he blocked the kick at the last possible second, the impact thudding into his forearm. The force skidded him back a step, claws scraping against stone as he absorbed it. Roki stumbled back a step, then another, quickly putting distance between them. His tail swished uneasily as his eyes stayed locked on Aiko, not angry, not startled, but focused. How…? He replayed the moment in his head. The dirt. The blink. The sudden shift in presence behind him. No surge of energy. No obvious movement. Just there. His ears flicked. Was it speed? A feint? Some kind of displacement…? “…Y-you moved,” he said slowly, more to himself than to her. “I d-didn’t feel you go around…” His gaze narrowed as he tried to piece it together. Roki didn’t know what her ability was yet. But he knew one thing. He couldn’t afford to underestimate her again. Aiko clicked her tongue again, grinning. “Tch. Fast reflexes.” Itsuki finally slowed to a stop, chest heaving. She looked between them, staff held loosely at her side. Where do I fit? she thought. Aiko could fight. She always could. She moved fast, clever, and fearless. But Itsuki? She swallowed. Her mind dragged her back to Makoto. To standing there while her friends were hurt and bleeding. To pouring everything she had into healing while fear rooted her in place. I healed them, she thought. But I didn’t help fight. Her fingers tightened around the staff. I can’t be that person again. She took a steadying breath. She wasn’t useless. She refused to be. If she couldn’t overpower an S-rank… then she would support, disrupt, create openings. Anything. Itsuki lifted her staff, eyes sharpening with resolve. I’ll find a way, she told herself. Even here. Even now. Across from her, Roki shifted his stance, nervous but ready. “I-I won’t hurt you,” he said softly. “But… I won’t lose either.” Aiko smirked. “Good.” Itsuki stepped forward. “Then let’s do this,” she whispered. Shunjiro and Yoshinori moved together the moment Daichi shifted his stance. Daichi didn’t draw his blade. That alone told them everything. The air changed. Pressure rolled outward from him in invisible waves, the space between them turning hostile, resistant, like trying to run through deep water that pushed back just hard enough to ruin momentum. Shunjiro felt it immediately. He stepped in anyway, drawing on his spiritual energy, but only enough to sharpen his movements. No surge. No flare. Just the bare minimum. He closed the distance and struck. The air shoved him sideways. His punch slid off course, forced just enough that it missed Daichi’s shoulder by inches. Shunjiro adjusted, pivoted, and tried again. The wind twisted. He was pushed back two steps without ever being touched. “Tch,” Daichi muttered. He hadn’t even looked strained. “So that’s it?” Daichi said flatly. “That’s what everyone’s been whispering about?” Shunjiro didn’t answer. He lunged again, this time chaining movements, feints, angle changes, a low sweep into a rising strike. The air answered every time. Daichi finally turned his head toward him, green eyes sharp with irritation rather than interest. “…You’ve got decent form,” he admitted. “Good instincts for your rank.” That stung more than an insult. “But don’t get ahead of yourself,” Daichi continued. “You’re nowhere near what I was expecting. Definitely not S-rank material.” Shunjiro clenched his teeth. I don’t have Itsuki’s buff, he reminded himself. This is on me. He drew deeper letting his energy thread through his muscles, sharpening timing rather than power. He pressed again, refusing to back off. That’s when lightning cracked the air. Yoshinori moved. He hadn’t stopped. He raised one hand, fingers spread and a bolt tore down from above, slamming into the arena floor where Daichi had been standing a moment earlier. Daichi sidestepped, wind flaring instinctively. Another bolt followed. Then another. Yoshinori didn’t slow. Lightning lanced from his fingertips, from his palms, from the sky itself, each strike controlled. Daichi clicked his tongue and raised an arm. Wind coiled tight around him, deflecting the worst of the impact, but this time he had to move. “Annoying,” Daichi muttered. Yoshinori advanced, eyes glowing faintly, jaw tight. He pushed harder than he ever had before, electricity crawling along his arms, veins lighting beneath his skin. This fight won’t last, he thought. So I won’t either. He closed the gap and reached out, fingers snapping forward, trying to make contact. Daichi felt it the instant Yoshinori brushed his sleeve. Electricity surged. Not a strike, an injection. Voltage flooded into Daichi’s body, lightning trying to ride his nervous system, to seize muscle and reflex from the inside. Daichi’s eyes widened just a fraction. “…Huh.” Wind exploded outward, forcing Yoshinori back, but this time Daichi exhaled slowly. Then he smiled. Just barely. “Now that,” he said, turning fully toward Yoshinori, “is impressive.” Yoshinori didn’t answer. Another bolt fell. Then another. Sweat beaded at his temple as he pushed his limits, sustaining output far beyond what he normally dared. Daichi studied him carefully now. His gaze flicked back to Shunjiro, still pressing, still adapting, still fighting through the wind with stubborn resolve. One impressed him. The other… disappointed him. Daichi sighed. “Alright,” he said quietly. The wind shifted. And his hand moved toward the hilt of his blade. Click. The sound was soft, almost casual. Then he moved. The short blade left its sheath in a smooth, practiced motion, Daichi’s arm cutting through the air twice in quick succession, like he was testing the weight of the weapon. He wasn’t. The air screamed. Two invisible arcs tore forward, compressed wind sharpened to a lethal edge. There was no roar, no warning flash, just sudden, overwhelming force. “-!” Shunjiro barely had time to register the shift before the first slash hit. The wind slammed into him like a cleaver. His body was thrown backward, feet leaving the ground as pain exploded across his chest. Fabric shredded. Blood sprayed in a thin red line across the stone as the blade-like pressure carved through skin and muscle. He hit the ground hard, breath torn from his lungs. At the same instant, the second slash caught Yoshinori. He tried to raise his arm but the wind cut through it, slicing across his side and shoulder in a clean, merciless line. Blood followed immediately, dark against the crackling remnants of electricity. Yoshinori staggered, teeth gritting as his footing failed him. Daichi stood where he was, blade lowered, green eyes cold and unimpressed. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I wasn’t serious before,” he said flatly. “I was just being polite.” The wind around him settled but now it was tighter. Denser. Coiled like a storm waiting to snap. Shunjiro forced himself up on one knee, blood dripping from his fingers as he pressed a hand to his side. Yoshinori straightened beside him, breathing heavy, lightning flickering erratically along his arms. They hadn’t been expecting it. That was the worst part. This wasn’t Daichi attacking. This was Daichi showing them what happened when he stopped holding back. Hikari didn’t slow down. If anything, she looked like she was having fun. Tetsuo planted his feet and slammed both palms into the ground, spiritual energy surging through his arms. Stone erupted upward in jagged waves, forming a wall between him and the charging dwarfwoman. “Ryuji now!” he barked. Ryuji moved instantly. His body hardened in a flash, muscle and skin locking into living iron as he launched himself over the rising stone. He twisted midair and drove his fist down toward Hikari’s head with everything he had. Hikari looked up. Grinned. She jumped. The ground cratered beneath her feet as she launched upward, meeting Ryuji in the air. She didn’t block. She didn’t dodge. She punched. Their fists collided. The impact detonated like a cannon blast. Ryuji’s hardened arm rang like struck steel as shock tore through him. The force ripped him backward midair, spinning him end over end before he crashed into the stone wall Tetsuo had raised, shattering it on impact. “Ghh-!” Ryuji hit the ground hard, skidding across the arena floor. Hikari landed lightly, rolling her shoulders like she’d just warmed up. “Oh good!” she said brightly. “I was worried I’d break you!” Tetsuo didn’t wait. He charged. No tricks. No setup. Just raw momentum. Stone armor surged up his arms and across his shoulders as he roared and threw a straight punch aimed at her chest, enough force to pulverize boulders. Hikari stepped into it. Her foot slammed down, anchoring her small frame like an immovable spike. She twisted her torso and met Tetsuo’s punch with her forearm. The clash boomed. Cracks spiderwebbed across the stone coating Tetsuo’s arm. His eyes widened. “What-” Hikari’s other fist came up. It hit him square in the ribs. Tetsuo’s entire body lifted off the ground as if gravity had let go of him. He slammed backward, tumbling through the air before crashing shoulder-first into the arena floor hard enough to leave a crater. He wheezed, stone armor splintering off him in chunks. “…That’s not fair,” he groaned. Ryuji was already back on his feet. He hardened fully this time, arms, torso, legs, everything locking into steel. He sprinted forward, fists swinging in a relentless barrage, each punch aimed with practiced brawler instinct. Hikari weaved through them. Not fast like teleporting. Fast like perfect timing. She slipped inside one punch and drove her elbow into Ryuji’s side. He hardened harder, muscles screaming as the blow still rattled him to the bone. She followed with a knee. Ryuji blocked but the impact forced him back several steps, boots carving lines into the stone. “You’re tough!” Hikari laughed. “I like you!” Ryuji spat to the side, grinning despite himself. Tetsuo forced himself up behind her. He slammed both fists together, stone pillars erupting upward around Hikari in a tight ring, trying to trap her. “Got you!” Hikari looked around, blinked once. Then punched the ground. The arena exploded. The pillars shattered outward as a shockwave tore through them, rubble flying in every direction. Tetsuo threw his arms up to shield himself as debris rained down. Ryuji charged through the dust, roaring as he threw everything he had into one final punch, hardened fist screaming toward her jaw. Hikari twisted and caught his wrist. Stopped him dead. Ryuji froze. Hikari looked at him, eyes bright, expression genuinely apologetic. “…You’re really strong,” she said kindly. “Just not my kind of strong.” She pivoted and hurled him. Ryuji flew. Tetsuo barely had time to brace before Ryuji slammed into him, the two of them crashing together in a tangled heap and skidding across the arena floor. Silence followed. Hikari stood alone amid cracked stone and scattered debris, hands on her hips, breathing steady. She tilted her head, watching the two brute fighters struggle to rise. “…You guys are fun,” she said cheerfully. “But if we keep going like this, you’re gonna break yourselves.” Tetsuo groaned. “She didn’t even use the hammer…” Ryuji laughed weakly. “…I hate that.” Tetsuo and Ryuji pushed themselves up at the same time. Both were bruised. Both were breathing hard. Neither one even considered staying down. Ryuji wiped blood from the corner of his mouth and rolled his shoulders, iron-hardening spreading again across his arms and chest. “She’s not done,” he muttered. “Neither are we.” Tetsuo cracked his neck, eyes burning. “I don’t care if she breaks every bone I have,” he growled. “She’s using that hammer.” Hikari tilted her head, watching them with open curiosity. “…You’re still standing?” she asked, genuinely impressed. “Wow. Okay! I’ll play serious then.” She shifted her footing. Tetsuo inhaled deeply and slammed his heel down. Stone didn’t just rise this time. It flowed. The arena floor liquefied beneath his control, rock rippling outward like a living thing. Pillars didn’t just erupt; they curved, bent, twisted mid-rise, forming jagged ramps, walls, and broken terrain all at once. Ryuji felt it instantly. “Tetsuo!” “Move with it!” Tetsuo barked. Ryuji launched forward as the stone surged upward beneath his feet, the terrain throwing him into the air at an angle Hikari hadn’t anticipated. He twisted mid-flight, hardened fist swinging down from above. Hikari reacted and the ground grabbed her. Stone wrapped around her ankles. The weight was immense, pulling at her center of gravity. “Oh?” Hikari blinked. “That’s clever.” Her punch shattered the stone around one leg. But that heartbeat was enough. Ryuji’s fist slammed into her shoulder. The impact boomed. Hikari slid backward for the first time, boots carving deep trenches into the arena floor. Her grin widened. “Yes!” she laughed. “That’s it!” Tetsuo didn’t stop. He raised both arms, stone surging up his body. Plates locked together along his shoulders and spine, massive slabs forming behind him like a battering ram. He charged. Hikari met him head-on. Their collision detonated. Stone exploded outward as Tetsuo’s reinforced shoulder smashed into her guard. Hikari dug in, muscles flexing, raw strength answering raw force. And the ground beneath her cracked. Her eyes lit up. “Ooooh,” she breathed. “Okay. Okay.” Energy flared. For the first time, Hikari’s spiritual energy surged outward, compressing the air around her like gravity had suddenly doubled. She pushed. The force blasted Tetsuo backward, stone constructs ripping apart as he skidded across the arena, coughing, rolling to a stop on one knee. Ryuji roared and charged again, hardened body screaming as he threw a full-force punch aimed straight for her jaw. Hikari caught it. The shockwave cracked the floor beneath them both. She leaned in, eyes bright, voice still cheerful but now edged with something heavier. “Good,” she said. “You made me use energy.” She twisted her grip and hurled Ryuji aside, sending him crashing into a broken pillar hard enough to collapse it. Dust settled. Tetsuo struggled to stand. Ryuji dragged himself upright, chest heaving. They looked at her. Still standing. Still smiling. Still not reaching for the hammer strapped to her back. Hikari rolled her shoulders once, spiritual energy fading back into her body as she relaxed her stance. Tetsuo laughed weakly. “Damn it…” Ryuji wiped his face and smirked despite the pain. “At least we made her try.” Hikari nodded enthusiastically. “You really did!” She tapped a fist into her open palm. “Most people don’t even get that far.” Her hand brushed the strap of the massive warhammer on her back. But she didn’t unfasten it. “And hey,” she added brightly, “if you keep growing like this?” She grinned wide. “Maybe next time… I will.” Roki didn’t rush this time. He stood several paces away, cleaver still at his side. His brown ears twitched slightly as he watched Aiko and Itsuki reposition. He wasn’t smiling now. He was thinking. Aiko noticed. “…He’s not falling for the dirt trick twice,” she muttered under her breath. Itsuki tightened her grip on her staff. Her heart was racing, but her voice came out steady when she leaned closer. “Aiko… I have an idea.” Aiko glanced sideways at her. “I’m listening.” “Throw him off balance up close,” Itsuki whispered. “Keep him guessing. I’ll follow your rhythm.” Aiko blinked once then grinned. “There she is.” Itsuki inhaled slowly. No more standing in the back. No more just watching everyone bleed and hoping I can fix it after. Her fingers tightened around the staff. Time to be useful. Aiko moved first. She dashed forward recklessly, intentionally obvious. Roki narrowed his eyes. He shifted his stance, bracing for impact rather than chasing. Aiko lunged and vanished. Roki’s eyes widened slightly as the air shimmered beside him. She reappeared at his right flank, foot coated in spiritual energy, heel snapping toward his ribs. He blocked. But the impact still made him slide. Before he could counter, she disappeared again. This time reappearing just long enough to drive her elbow into the back of his shoulder. Then gone. Then low sweep. Then gone again. Each strike wasn’t devastating. But it was disruptive. Roki’s tail lashed as he pivoted rapidly, trying to pin her down. It’s not speed, he realized. It’s displacement. He swung his arm through empty air as Aiko reappeared behind him again, driving a glowing fist into his side. The blow landed clean. It just… didn’t do much. Roki barely flinched. “Y-you’re really good,” he admitted, breath steady despite the flurry. “B-but your hits don’t carry enough weight…” Aiko clicked her tongue. “Working on it.” Behind him, Itsuki planted her staff into the stone. Spiritual energy began to gather. Not warm. Not gentle. Focused. The air around her shimmered faintly as she poured energy into the tip of the staff. It hummed, growing brighter, denser. Roki’s ears twitched. He felt it. He spun too late. Itsuki thrust her staff forward. A concentrated beam of spiritual energy erupted from it, tearing across the arena in a straight, blinding line aimed directly at his chest. The speed was staggering. Roki’s eyes widened. He dropped low and roared, flame exploding outward from his body in a violent burst. A column of fire surged forward, meeting the beam head-on. Flame and light collided. The arena floor blackened beneath them as heat distorted the air. For a moment, it looked even. Then the beam pushed. Itsuki’s energy carved through the flames inch by inch, forcing its way forward. The heat lashed at her face, but she didn’t stop. Push. The beam broke through. It struck Roki’s shoulder and chest, searing through fur and skin. The scent of burned hair filled the air as he was driven back several steps. The beam faded. Smoke curled upward. Roki’s chest rose and fell as steam lifted from his body. Aiko didn’t hesitate. She vanished and reappeared at his side, spiritual energy surging into her fist. She drove the punch into his waist. This time the impact landed with perfect timing. Roki doubled over with a sharp exhale, clutching his stomach as the force rippled through him. For a brief moment there was silence. Then something changed. The flames around him didn’t fade. They thickened. His aura flared brighter, wrapping tighter around his body. The burned patches of fur began to knit back together, skin restoring beneath it as the fire licked across his wounds. Itsuki’s eyes widened. “…He’s healing.” Roki straightened slowly. The damage was already closing. He flexed his fingers once, testing the movement, then looked at them both with something close to admiration. “You girls are impressive,” he said softly. There was no mockery. No arrogance. Just honest surprise. “You pushed me more than I thought you would.” His hand reached back. The leather strap slid free. He pulled the massive cleaver from his side, metal gleaming as flame crawled along its edge, igniting it completely. The aura around him intensified, heat rolling off him in waves. Itsuki felt it clearly now. The flames weren’t just offense. They were restoration. Aiko exhaled slowly. “…So that’s how it is.” Roki adjusted his grip on the cleaver, fire roaring brighter around the blade. His shy expression remained but his stance changed entirely. “Okay,” he said gently. “Let’s keep going.” Itsuki lowered her staff slowly. Her arms trembled not from strain alone, but from realization. That was everything I had… And it hadn’t been enough. She swallowed. The beam had looked impressive. It had felt powerful. But Roki had healed it almost instantly. Her chest tightened. That won’t work again. Not like that. Not at this level. The memory came back clearer this time. She was thirteen. The world had already begun to feel bigger and crueler. Her sister stood across from her in the small clearing behind their home, wooden staffs in hand. The wind moved gently through the trees, but her sister’s expression was serious. “You can’t only be a healer,” her sister had said. Itsuki had frowned. “Why not? Isn’t healing enough?” Her sister’s eyes softened but didn’t waver. “This world isn’t kind, Itsuki. Sometimes the wounded can’t wait for you to fix them. Sometimes you’ll need to make sure they don’t get hurt in the first place.” She stepped forward and demonstrated, guiding her spiritual energy outward through her staff. A pulse shot forward, knocking a practice target backward. Itsuki blinked. “But… I don’t have enough spiritual energy for that. Not like you.” Her sister shook her head. “It’s not about having more. It’s about control. But you’re right.” She knelt to meet Itsuki’s eyes. “With your current reserves? You could use it against weaker opponents. Maybe mid-tier fighters.” Itsuki stared at the staff in her hands. “And against someone stronger?” Her sister didn’t lie. “Then you don’t try to overpower them. You survive.” The memory dissolved. Itsuki inhaled sharply. She was right. Her spiritual reserves weren’t large. Her output couldn’t match true fighters. That beam had worked because Roki wasn’t expecting it. Not because it was strong. And now he was healing through flame. Her grip tightened on the staff. I can’t overpower him. She glanced at Aiko, still shifting her stance, still fighting despite knowing her blows weren’t landing meaningfully. I have to survive this. Itsuki’s thoughts sharpened. If she couldn’t match brute force, she needed refinement. She thought of Yumi. Of how effortlessly Yumi supported entire battlefields. She thought of Mariah. Of the calm, dangerous way the main healer carried herself. They don’t just heal. They survive. They endure. They strike when necessary. Itsuki’s jaw set. When this is over… I’m asking them. What did they do when healing wasn’t enough? How did they fight without abandoning who they were? But first she had to stay standing. She lifted her staff again, drawing in what energy she could. “I just need to make it through this,” she whispered to herself. Her eyes steadied. “I’ll try everything I can.” And this time, when Roki stepped forward with his cleaver blazing, Itsuki didn’t hesitate. She planted her staff again. The tip of her staff glowed brighter than before, but quieter.  Roki stepped forward, cleaver blazing as flame wrapped around the metal in thick spirals. Itsuki thrust the staff forward. The beam shot out again but it wasn’t a solid lance this time. It was narrower. Cleaner. Almost surgical. Roki reacted instantly. He brought his cleaver up, bracing it horizontally in front of him. The beam struck. Flame roared against it, fire pouring from the blade’s edge as he poured energy into the defense. The impact pushed him back a step. The sound was different. Not explosive. Not chaotic. A sharp, ringing pressure against metal. From the side Aiko moved. She vanished and reappeared low at Roki’s flank, leg already chambered for a kick aimed straight at his ribs. Roki didn’t turn. He didn’t need to. His free hand snapped outward, and a burst of flame exploded from his palm like a cannon blast. The heat slammed into Aiko mid-motion, forcing her to twist away and retreat as the air scorched around her. She skidded backward, coughing lightly from the heat. “Still rude!” she snapped. Roki lowered his hand. The beam faded. Smoke curled upward. For a moment, no one moved. Then Roki exhaled slowly. “…That’s enough.” His flame aura dimmed. He stepped back and lowered the cleaver. “Fight’s over.” Aiko blinked. “Wait what?” Itsuki lowered her staff, chest heaving. Across the arena, Tetsuo and Ryuji were already on their knees, battered but conscious, Hikari standing nearby with her hands on her hips and a wide grin. Roki turned back to the girls, offering them a shy smile. “You both did amazing,” he said sincerely. “You adapted fast. That second beam… that was really clever.” Itsuki flushed slightly, still catching her breath. But Roki’s gaze dropped. To his cleaver. The flames flickered away completely. In the dimming glow, faint lines became visible across the blade. Thin fractures. Spiderweb cracks. His ears twitched. He turned the weapon slightly in his hand, inspecting it more closely. The fractures weren’t superficial. They ran deep. His brow furrowed. How…? He looked back at Itsuki. Her spiritual energy was visibly low. Nowhere near enough to overpower him head-on. Her first beam had burned him. But this one, it didn’t feel heavier. It felt sharper. Focused at a single point. That wasn’t brute force, he realized. It wasn’t power that cracked the blade. It was something else. Something that bypassed durability. Something that disrupted structure. His grip tightened just slightly. A faint, cold sensation crept up his spine. He had called the fight because they had done well. Because they had proven themselves. That’s what he said. But that wasn’t the full truth. He had called it because something about that second beam unsettled him. Because for a heartbeat, he hadn’t been sure what would happen if it struck cleanly without the cleaver in the way. And because if her control improved… He might not be able to block it next time. Roki slid the cleaver back toward its strap slowly. “You’re both growing fast,” he said gently. But his eyes lingered on Itsuki a moment longer than necessary. The arena had gone quiet. Hikari had stepped back. Roki had ended his match. Tetsuo and Ryuji were catching their breath. Now all eyes were on the last fight. Shunjiro and Yoshinori stood across from Daichi Takeda, blood marking both of them where the wind blades had cut clean through fabric and skin. The air between them was heavier now. Daichi rolled his shoulder once, blade still in hand, wind coiling faintly around him like a patient serpent. “You’re done,” he said calmly. “Another exchange like that and you won’t be getting up.” Shunjiro wiped blood from his jaw. Yoshinori’s breathing had grown rough. Daichi smirked. “Honestly?” he added. “At this rate, Kaito’s going to have to stop this fight himself.” Yoshinori lifted his head slowly. A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. “…It won’t come to that,” he said. Daichi’s eyes narrowed. “This won’t last long,” Yoshinori continued. “So I’ll use what I have left.” Shunjiro looked at him. He felt something stir in his chest. He pushed himself fully upright despite the blood soaking into his shirt. He stepped beside Yoshinori, not behind him. “I’ve got you,” Shunjiro said quietly. Yoshinori didn’t look at him. He didn’t need to. “I know.” Daichi clicked his tongue. “Touching.” The wind tightened. Shunjiro inhaled slowly. And this time he didn’t try to force his energy outward. He felt it. For the first time in the fight, he wasn’t reacting to Daichi’s pressure. He wasn’t chasing him. He wasn’t trying to break through by brute persistence. He centered himself. The hum beneath his skin sharpened. His spiritual energy didn’t explode. It condensed. Daichi noticed immediately. “…Oh?” The air around Shunjiro began to shift, not violently, but with presence. Yoshinori lifted both hands toward the ceiling of the arena, his breathing uneven but controlled. He could feel his reserves thinning, each breath pulling from a well that was no longer full. Still, this was not a moment for restraint. There were times when lightning had to be tested beyond comfort, when it had to be forced to show him where its limits truly were. The air above the sealed arena began to churn as if stirred by an unseen force. Clouds gathered unnaturally fast, spiraling into dense formations overhead, drawn together by Yoshinori’s will alone. Static thickened in the atmosphere, sharp and tangible, lifting the hair on the arms of those watching. Even Hikari’s grin faded slightly as she looked up, and Roki’s ears twitched at the change in pressure. Daichi followed their gazes and studied the forming storm with narrowed eyes. “You’re compressing the atmosphere inside a barrier,” he said, voice edged with irritation. “Reckless.” The first bolt fell before the last word had fully left his mouth. Lightning tore downward and split the arena floor where Daichi had stood only a fraction of a second earlier. He twisted aside and cut upward with his blade, wind surging to meet the descending arc. The gust sliced through part of the bolt, shredding it into sparks that scattered across the stone. But lightning did not behave like air. It did not disperse obediently. Another bolt crashed down. And then another. Daichi adjusted, raising his blade again and compressing wind around it with precise control. When the third strike descended, he cut cleanly through it, dispersing most of the arc before it reached him. But the moment steel met current, the electricity traveled through the metal and into his arm. His jaw tightened as the shock seized his muscles for a heartbeat, enough to disrupt the smooth flow of wind he had maintained around his body. He forced wind inward to disrupt the current, regaining control quickly, but the opening had already been created. Shunjiro moved without hesitation. He did not rush wildly as before. Instead, he advanced through the distortions Yoshinori’s lightning created in the air, stepping into the brief gaps where Daichi’s wind faltered. He appeared at Daichi’s flank, fist already arcing wide. Daichi reacted instantly, releasing a concentrated gust meant to blast him backward. The wind struck Shunjiro head-on, slamming into him with enough force to lift a lesser fighter off their feet. But Shunjiro planted his foot firmly into the stone and let his energy flow through his body in a focused surge. It was not explosive or dramatic. It layered over him in dense reinforcement, wrapping his limbs in controlled power. He pushed through the resistance. The wind screamed around him, but he did not yield. His punch connected in a shallow graze across Daichi’s ribs. It was not a crushing blow, but the energy behind it was no longer the scattered output of a C-rank adventurer. It had risen to something sharper and more deliberate, hovering in the B to high B-rank range. It was enough to draw a flicker of pain. Daichi’s eyes sharpened. “Annoying,” he muttered, pivoting smoothly as he brought his blade around in a clean, horizontal arc. The wind compressed instantly into a slicing edge and tore toward Shunjiro. Shunjiro barely managed to raise his arms in time. His energy responded instinctively, reinforcing his guard as the wind blade struck. The impact sliced through cloth and into flesh, cutting both forearms and drawing blood. But the energy cushioning the strike prevented it from severing deeper. He staggered from the force, arms trembling, yet he remained upright. Daichi registered the change. They were no longer flinching at every exchange. They were adapting. Behind him, the air shifted again. It was not wind. Yoshinori had not advanced recklessly. He had allowed the storm to grow. Above them, the artificial clouds roared louder, lightning threading constantly through their depths. “Wind moves,” Yoshinori said quietly from behind Daichi. “But lightning doesn’t ask permission.” He placed his palm flat against Daichi’s back. There was no blade involved this time, no distant strike meant to be intercepted. It was direct contact. The storm answered. A massive bolt descended from the swirling clouds, not toward the arena floor but toward Yoshinori himself. The lightning struck him and flowed through him rather than dispersing. He channeled it down his arm and into Daichi’s body at point-blank range. Wind could redirect force and carve through matter, but once contact was made, it could not insulate raw current from traveling through conductive pathways. Electricity surged violently through Daichi, bypassing the wind barrier that had shielded him from external strikes. His muscles locked against his will as voltage tore through his nervous system. The smell of ozone filled the arena, and faint arcs danced along his armor. The wind around him destabilized and broke apart in erratic bursts. His grip on the blade faltered, and he dropped to one knee as the current finished its violent passage. Yoshinori staggered back several steps, nearly collapsing as exhaustion overtook him. His breathing came in sharp pulls, arm trembling from having served as a conduit for such a massive discharge. Across from him, Shunjiro stood bleeding, forearms cut and shaking, yet still upright. Daichi remained kneeling for a moment, smoke rising faintly from scorched fabric. When he finally exhaled, the sound was steady despite the strain. He pushed himself back to his feet and looked at Yoshinori with a gaze no longer dismissive. “Wind cuts,” he said quietly. “But lightning pierces.” The annoyance in his expression remained, but something else had replaced the earlier contempt. He was no longer measuring them as nuisances. He was acknowledging them as threats worth considering. Yoshinori’s legs nearly gave out beneath him after the lightning finished tearing through Daichi. He caught himself at the last second, but Shunjiro saw it clearly. The storm above them began to thin, the artificial clouds breaking apart as Yoshinori’s control faded. The lightning that had filled the arena moments before dwindled to faint sparks crawling across the stone. He’s empty. Shunjiro didn’t need to ask. Yoshinori had pushed everything into that final strike. His breathing was shallow, his arms trembling from serving as a conduit for that much current. Daichi straightened slowly, the faint scorch marks on his armor and skin proof that the attack had not been insignificant. He rolled his shoulder once, testing the stiffness in his muscles. His wind field had reformed, but it was thinner now, less fluid than before. Shunjiro saw it. He felt it. This was the opening. He stepped forward. Daichi’s eyes shifted toward him immediately. “You’re still standing?” he said, tone dry but no longer dismissive. Shunjiro didn’t answer. He adjusted his stance instead. He didn’t charge blindly. He remembered how the wind moved earlier, how it corrected angles, how it shoved straight-line attacks off course. The wind wasn’t random. It followed Daichi’s intent. It reinforced his balance. It reacted to pressure. So Shunjiro stopped attacking in straight lines. He moved diagonally. Daichi flicked his wrist and sent a gust forward. Shunjiro let it take him half a step, then pivoted with it rather than against it. Instead of forcing through the wind head-on, he stepped into its rotation, using the redirected force to spin himself toward Daichi’s opposite side. Daichi’s eyes narrowed. Another gust lashed out, sharper this time. Shunjiro dropped low and slid across the stone, letting the wind pass over him rather than striking into it. He came up from beneath Daichi’s guard and threw a short hook toward his midsection. Daichi twisted and brought his blade down in a tight arc, wind compressing along the edge. Shunjiro raised his forearm again, energy layering over it instinctively. The wind blade struck, slicing shallowly across his guard. Pain flared, but he had expected it this time. Instead of recoiling, he stepped forward into the impact. He was learning. Wind moved in arcs. It flowed outward. It resisted forward pressure. So he changed the tempo. Shunjiro feinted high, drawing Daichi’s wind upward to intercept. The moment the gust formed, he cut his movement short and drove low instead, forcing Daichi to redirect his control. The delay was small. But it was there. Daichi countered with a sharp backhand slash, wind snapping outward in a horizontal line. Shunjiro ducked under it and felt the air tear across the back of his shoulders instead of his throat. Too close. He rolled to the side and came up again, breathing hard. His energy pulsed steadily now, no longer flaring wildly. It wasn’t S-rank. It wasn’t overwhelming. But it was focused, climbing steadily from the B range toward something sharper. Daichi exhaled through his nose, irritation returning. “You’re adapting.” “That’s the point,” Shunjiro replied. He lunged again, not straight at Daichi, but slightly past him. Daichi instinctively shifted wind to block the angle of attack, but Shunjiro didn’t throw the punch. He stepped through the resistance, letting the redirected wind carry him around Daichi’s flank. For the first time in the fight, he was behind him without lightning forcing the opening. Daichi tried to pivot, but the earlier electrical damage slowed his reaction by just a fraction. The muscles along his side did not respond as quickly as they should have. Shunjiro saw it. He planted his foot and drew everything he had left into one controlled surge. His fist drove forward into the exact spot Yoshinori’s lightning had scorched moments earlier. The impact landed cleanly. Energy discharged on contact, not spreading outward but drilling inward. It wasn’t raw power that made the blow effective, it was precision and timing. Daichi’s breath left him sharply as pain shot through the already damaged nerves along his ribs. He staggered backward two steps before catching himself. The wind around him flickered unevenly. For a brief moment, silence hung between them. Shunjiro stood there, chest heaving, arms cut and bleeding, but eyes steady. He had felt it. That was different. That was real. Daichi straightened slowly, one hand pressing lightly against his side. His expression had changed again. The annoyance was gone. In its place was something far more serious. “…Good,” he said quietly. Shunjiro didn’t lower his guard. He didn’t want this fight to end yet. Not now. Not when he was finally starting to understand how to move through something stronger than himself. The wind had just begun to gather again around Daichi when a calm, steady voice cut through the arena. “That’s enough.” The pressure in the air shifted instantly. Kaito Ishiro stepped forward from the edge of the arena floor, blue cloak settling behind him as he walked between the fighters. There was no flare of overwhelming spiritual energy, no dramatic show of force, yet the message was clear. The spar was over. Daichi lowered his blade first. Shunjiro, chest heaving and arms bleeding, finally let his stance drop. For a brief second, the arena was quiet except for heavy breathing. Kaito’s eyes swept across the scene, the cracked stone, the scorch marks, the shallow blood trails. “Well,” he said evenly, though there was unmistakable approval in his voice, “that exceeded my expectations.” Itsuki was already moving. She ran straight to Shunjiro without hesitation, staff glowing faintly as she reached him. “You’re hurt,” she said softly, worry written across her face. “I’m fine,” Shunjiro started to say. She shot him a look. He stopped talking. Her hands hovered just above his forearms as her energy flowed outward, soothing first before closing the deeper cuts. The torn flesh knitted gradually under her control, the pain dulling into warmth. Across the arena, Tetsuo and Ryuji helped Yoshinori steady himself. “You alive?” Ryuji asked. Yoshinori chuckled weakly. “Barely. I went all out.” “No kidding,” Tetsuo muttered. “You tried to summon a storm inside a box.” Yoshinori still slightly trembling. “It worked, didn’t it?” Ryuji grinned. “Yeah. It worked.” As Itsuki finished sealing the worst of Shunjiro’s wounds, Shunjiro stepped forward toward Yoshinori. He extended his hand. “Hey,” Shunjiro said. “I’m glad you joined.” Yoshinori blinked, caught slightly off guard. A faint flush touched his cheeks before he masked it behind his usual composure. “…It’s been interesting so far,” he replied, shaking Shunjiro’s hand. “You’re not completely incompetent.” Shunjiro laughed. “High praise.” Aiko watched the exchange with a grin. “Look at you two. Getting all sentimental after almost dying.” She folded her arms behind her head. “I’m glad I joined too.” Ryuji nodded. “Yeah. This was worth it.” The three S-rank adventurers approached them. Hikari arrived first, hands on her hips and grin wide as ever. “That was fun!” she declared. “You guys don’t crumble under pressure. I like that.” Tetsuo rubbed the back of his neck. “You didn’t even use your hammer.” She laughed. “Didn’t need to. But you two? You’ve got guts. Next time, don’t try to match strength head-on. You’ll lose every time.” She pointed at Tetsuo. “Your stone manipulation? It’s strong, but predictable. You build walls and pillars like they’re shields. Start thinking about angles. Trap people. Change terrain under their feet.” Then she looked at Ryuji. “And you’re fast, but you commit too hard. If someone stronger catches you mid-swing, you’re done. Build exit routes into your attacks.” Ryuji blinked. “Exit routes?” “Always assume your first hit won’t land,” she said cheerfully. Roki approached more quietly. His cleaver rested back at his side, though he avoided looking at it for long. The faint fractures in the metal were hidden in shadow. “You both did really well,” he said to Aiko and Itsuki, voice gentle. “Your coordination improved mid-fight. That’s rare.” Aiko smirked. “I’m just that good.” Roki smiled faintly. “You rely heavily on surprise. That works once. Against someone experienced, you’ll need layered misdirection. Make them question what your power actually does.” Aiko tilted her head. “So… more confusion?” “Yes,” Roki said softly. “But structured confusion.” He turned to Itsuki. “Your timing was good. You waited for openings instead of forcing them. That’s smart. But you hesitate after you land something. You need follow-through.” Itsuki nodded, absorbing every word. “I’ll work on it.” He hesitated for half a second. “And… don’t underestimate your range,” he added carefully. He did not mention the cleaver. Daichi stepped forward last. His expression had returned to its usual sharp edge. “You’re all sloppy,” he said flatly. Ryuji groaned. “Here we go.” Daichi ignored him and pointed directly at Shunjiro. “You rely on instinct too much. You adjusted well, but it was reactive. Start studying patterns before the fight escalates.” He shifted to Yoshinori. “You overextend. Lightning is destructive, yes. But you burned through everything to land one decisive blow. Against a real opponent who survives that, you’re finished.” Yoshinori’s jaw tightened slightly. Daichi continued without pause. “You two need to learn tempo control. Stop trying to win exchanges. Start trying to dictate them.” Shunjiro frowned. “Dictate?” “You let me decide when the wind moved,” Daichi said sharply. “You should have forced me to respond sooner. Break rhythm before escalating power.” He stepped closer to Shunjiro. “And you telegraph when you’re about to commit everything. Hide that better.” Shunjiro blinked. He hadn’t even realized. Daichi’s tone remained harsh, clinical. “Your fundamentals are decent. Your decision-making improves under pressure. But your transitions are too slow. Work on footwork. Study airflow. Understand how wind builds and collapses. If you fight a wind user again without understanding pressure flow, you’ll lose.” The more he spoke, the more technical it became. Angles. Breathing cycles. Micro-delays in reaction time. Subtle shifts in stance that signaled commitment. By the time he finished, Shunjiro and Yoshinori were staring at him, absorbing every detail. Daichi scoffed. “Fix that.” He stepped back. He had no idea how much he had just given them. Kaito stepped forward once more. “I think that’s enough criticism for one day,” he said lightly. He looked at Illumina as a whole. “You faced three S-rank adventurers and forced them to adjust. You adapted mid-fight. You didn’t break.” Mei Hoshino appeared beside him, lavender hair falling over one shoulder, violet eyes gleaming with quiet approval. “Not bad for a bunch of former F-ranks,” she added. Kaito nodded once. “Effective immediately,” he said clearly, “Illumina is promoted to C-rank.” The words hung in the air. Ryuji’s mouth dropped open. Tetsuo blinked twice. Aiko let out a sharp whistle. “Already?” Shunjiro asked. “You earned it,” Kaito replied. Mei crossed her arms. “But don’t misunderstand what that means.” Kaito continued. “C-rank is where expectations change. You will be assigned missions that affect multiple towns. Escort duties for trade routes. Subjugation of mid-tier threats without supervision.” Mei smirked slightly. “You won’t be babysat anymore.” Kaito’s gaze sharpened. “At C-rank, mistakes cost more than bruises. People will rely on you. You will represent Radiance beyond its walls.” Silence settled over them as the weight of it sank in. Shunjiro felt it first, not pride. Responsibility. Yoshinori adjusted his gloves, expression thoughtful. Aiko grinned, but even she stood a little straighter. Tetsuo exhaled slowly. “C-rank…” Ryuji cracked his knuckles. “Guess we’re really doing this.” Kaito gave a small nod. “Yes,” he said. “You are.”