Shunjiro and Itsuki climbed the wide stone steps to the upper stands, their excitement barely concealed beneath the buzz of the surrounding crowd. The sun bathed the arena in golden light, casting long shadows across the battleground below. Shunjiro was still shaking with adrenaline. His legs wobbled as he took his seat, the aftermath of the spiritual energy dummy test still buzzing in his veins. He hadn’t expected to score an S. Now he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had painted a target on his back. “I still can’t believe I got an S…” he muttered. Itsuki beamed. “You earned it! But yeah, that means you’ll probably face someone strong.”  Shunjiro groaned and slumped into his seat. “That’s what I’m afraid of…” Below, the sand-covered stage cleared, and the crowd hushed as the announcer stepped into the center of the arena with a booming voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the second round of the entrance exams-the one-on-one battles!” Cheers erupted around the stands. “Here are the rules!” the announcer continued. “Each match will last ten minutes. Victory is determined by incapacitation, ring-out, or referee decision. You are permitted to use your spiritual powers, techniques, and any weapon of your choosing. However, killing blows are strictly forbidden. You may not aim to permanently maim your opponent. Disqualification will result in immediate removal from the exam.” A murmur of approval rippled through the stands. “Participants must stay within the boundaries of the ring. Flying too high or exiting the field will count as a loss. And remember, this is a test of skill, not savagery. Show us what you’re made of!” A soft gust of wind swept through the arena as Mei Hoshino stepped forward, her grey eyes serene, fingers raised in a graceful motion. As she whispered an incantation under her breath, translucent streams of energy swirled from her palms and spiraled outward, forming a glowing circle around the arena’s perimeter. The barrier shimmered to life with a gentle pulse, her signature, creating a protective dome that would shield the crowd and judges from harm. “Now then…” the announcer’s voice shifted in tone, drawing suspense. “For the first match of the one-on-one battles… Yoshinori Raikawa versus Jayiden of the Beast Clan!” The arena roared with anticipation. From one side, Yoshinori stepped forward calmly. From the opposite end, Jayiden emerged in stark contrast. A member of the Beast Clan, his lean, muscular frame rippled with contained energy. Tufts of fur lined his arms and shoulders, and his sharp claws gripped dual jagged katanas that glimmered with a dark sheen. His golden eyes glinted beneath his wild mane of hair as he grinned, fangs peeking slightly from his smile. The two stood across from each other, the tension crackling like flint. “Good luck,” Jayiden said with a sharp-toothed grin, nodding in respect. Yoshinori nodded back, eyes calm. “You too.” The hourglass was flipped. The match had begun. Jayiden didn’t waste a second, he surged forward with a wild burst of speed, his katanas flashing. He came straight for Yoshinori’s neck with an overhead slash that looked far too aggressive for a non-lethal match. Yoshinori calmly tilted his body to the side, letting the blade sail past his ear by inches, then drove a fist into Jayiden’s ribs. A shockwave of electricity exploded from his knuckles and rippled through Jayiden’s side. “Gah-!” Jayiden leapt back, fur standing on end. Smoke curled off his torso as he winced. “Hey! Don’t do that again, please! I would like my hair to not stick up.” he said, furiously brushing his sides. Yoshinori didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. He was already moving. This time, he was the one on the offensive. Spiritual energy flared around his arms, and as he charged, two bolts of lightning crashed down from the sky, arcing toward Jayiden from either side. Jayiden growled and raised both his katanas, channeling energy through them. With a fierce shout, he deflected both lightning strikes, the impact sending vibrations through the ground. But while he was occupied, Yoshinori closed the distance. Two clean punches to the chest and shoulder sent Jayiden skidding back. He coughed, shaken. The crowd was gasping. “Jayiden needs to do something,” Shunjiro muttered from the stands, leaning forward. “He hasn’t landed a solid hit yet.” Jayiden looked up at the hourglass. Only a minute left. He clenched his jaw. “That’s it,” he growled. “I’m ending this right now.” Yoshinori braced himself. Jayiden’s spiritual energy surged outward like a shockwave. Both katanas glowed with a white-blue sheen as he condensed energy along the blades. Then, with a shout, he slashed through the air, sending twin waves of spiritual energy hurtling toward Yoshinori like crescent-shaped shockwaves. Yoshinori’s eyes narrowed. He coated his arms in spiritual energy, dense and focused and crossed them in front of his body. The energy waves collided, bursting into blinding light and pressure. Smoke filled the ring. Out of the smoke came Jayiden, already mid-spin, blades swinging. He closed the gap and launched a rapid flurry of strikes. Yoshinori blocked with his arms, parrying blow after blow. Sparks flew as steel met energy. Jayiden managed to land a solid kick to Yoshinori’s ribs, sending him sliding. But Yoshinori dug in his heel and steadied himself before stumbling. Time was running out. The hourglass was nearly empty. They stared at each other, breathing heavily. Jayiden’s chest rose and fell. Yoshinori’s hands crackled with residual electricity. Neither gave ground. But the time had run out. The hourglass flipped again, but this time, it marked the end. The announcer’s voice returned, full of tension. “Time! The winner… by decision: Yoshinori Raikawa!” Applause thundered through the stands. Shunjiro and Itsuki clapped loudly, and even Jayiden let out a tired chuckle as he sheathed his swords. “Damn,” Jayiden muttered, walking past Yoshinori. “You’re good. Like, really good.” Yoshinori turned to him and nodded. “You’re not bad yourself. If you’d had another minute… I might’ve lost.” Jayiden smirked. “Then I’ll make sure we meet again. But next time, I’m not holding back.” Yoshinori gave a rare smile. “Neither will I.” The crowd was still buzzing from the last match when the announcer’s voice rang out again, filled with excitement. “Next up! Aira Tatsuki versus Itsuki Nozomi!” Shunjiro and several others looked toward Itsuki in surprise. “Whoa, you’re up already?” he said, nudging her with an encouraging smile. Itsuki blinked, still processing her name being called. “W-What? Me?” “You got this,” Shunjiro said, giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Show them what you’re made of.” Heart pounding, Itsuki made her way down the stairs and into the arena. Across from her stood Aira Tatsuki, a petite girl with long, flowing pink hair that danced in the breeze. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with kindness, and her healer’s robes fluttered slightly as she stepped forward. A silver and blue staff was gripped tightly in her hands, a soft glow pulsing from its center. They bowed politely to one another, their smiles both warm and nervous. “Good luck,” Aira said sweetly. “You too,” Itsuki replied, steadying her breath. The announcer’s voice echoed: “Begin!” Neither of them moved for a second, then, simultaneously, they raised their staves, charging spiritual energy into them. Twin beams of light surged through the air and collided in the center with a flash of blue and green energy. Itsuki took a few steps back. She’s strong. And fast. Her hands gripped her staff tighter. I’m not great up close, so I need to keep my distance… Before she could strategize further, Aira charged her staff again. This time, a stream of water erupted from the tip, spiraling toward Itsuki like a living wave. “Whoa!” Itsuki gasped, diving to the side. The wave missed by inches, splashing violently onto the stone. She rolled and came up on one knee, already moving again as Aira launched a second, narrower jet of water. Itsuki zigzagged, narrowly dodging again. She’s better at ranged combat than me… I have to change the pace. With a burst of determination, Itsuki surged forward. Aira braced herself, switching stances as their staves clashed with a metallic crack. Itsuki pushed off the impact and followed it with a swift kick to Aira’s midsection, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to stagger her back. The audience stirred with surprise. Healers didn’t usually fight like that. Aira stumbled, recovering just in time to launch another wave of water. This one caught Itsuki off guard, slamming her in the chest and soaking her from head to toe. “Agh!” Itsuki cried, stumbling back, water dripping from her hair and robes. She shivered, but kept her footing. Aira hesitated for just a second. “Sorry!” Itsuki smiled through the water. “It’s okay!” She surged forward again, ignoring the squish of her wet boots. Aira tried to create another barrier of water, but Itsuki was already within reach. Their staves clashed again and again, sparks of spiritual energy flying off the impacts. Itsuki spun, low and quick, and managed to land a clean blow to Aira’s shoulder. Aira yelped and stumbled, backing up rapidly, trying to regain distance. “Too close-!” Aira muttered. She took another step back. And her heel crossed the edge of the arena. A glowing flash signaled the barrier’s detection. A pause. Then the announcer’s voice boomed: “Aira Tatsuki has stepped out of bounds! The winner of this match is… Itsuki Nozomi!” The crowd burst into cheers, surprised by the healer’s victory. Both girls panted softly as the barrier faded. Aira walked over with a sheepish grin, brushing a wet strand of hair from her face. “I’m really sorry for soaking you like that,” she said, offering her hand. Itsuki laughed, still dripping but beaming. “No worries! Your water attacks are amazing!” “Thanks,” Aira said, cheeks pink. “You’re stronger than you look. That staff work was impressive.” The girls shared a laugh before parting ways, mutual respect between them. Itsuki jogged back up the stairs to Shunjiro, who was grinning ear to ear. “You crushed it,” he said. She exhaled and flopped into the seat next to him. “I can’t believe I actually won…” “You were awesome,” he said, handing her a dry towel. The crowd’s cheers faded as the next match was prepared, but Itsuki couldn’t stop smiling. The third round was about to begin. Excitement crackled through the arena as the next names were called. “Aiko Hanabi!” the announcer shouted, and a ripple of cheers followed as the brown-haired girl stepped into the arena. Her hair was cut just above her shoulders, tousled slightly from the breeze, and her piercing purple eyes scanned the battlefield with casual confidence. She wore sleek black clothing, perfectly fitted for mobility, with light armor on her arms and shins. A black sash fluttered at her waist as she stretched out her limbs, already smiling like she knew something no one else did. “Ryota Masuda!” A louder cheer erupted, with several voices calling out in support. Ryota jogged in, orange spiky hair glowing under the sun, eyes to match, bright and full of chaotic energy. He wore a light martial artist’s gi, marked with faint scuffs from past sparring matches. He cracked his knuckles with a goofy grin. “Let’s give the people a show,” he said, flashing Aiko a toothy smile. She shrugged with a sly smirk. “Just don’t blink too much. Wouldn’t want you getting dizzy.” The match began with a blast of the horn. Ryota didn’t waste a second. He thrust his palms forward and unleashed a volley of spiritual energy blasts, neon-orange and fast. Aiko didn’t flinch. She vanished. In an instant, she reappeared behind Ryota, her foot slamming into his back with surgical precision. Ryota stumbled forward and hit the ground, face-first. A small puff of dust rose as the crowd let out a shocked gasp. “Owww!” he grunted, scrambling to his feet, brushing off his gi. “Okay, what the hell was that?!” He scanned the arena, trying to catch his breath. Aiko stood a few yards away, waving at him like nothing happened. The crowd buzzed with confusion and speculation. “How did she get behind him like that?” “Was it speed?” “Teleportation?” Ryota narrowed his eyes. “Tch. Teleporting or somethin’ stupid like that, huh? Great. Just great.” Aiko gave a playful shrug. “Wrong guess.” She darted forward again. Ryota responded with more blasts, tight, controlled shots meant to keep her at bay. But every time he thought he had her pinned, she vanished again, only to reappear at a new angle, untouched. He cursed under his breath and changed tactics. Planting his feet, Ryota gathered a large ball of spiritual energy between his hands and launched it high into the air. The sphere hovered like a miniature sun, humming with latent power. Then he followed it up, firing off smaller blasts at the larger one. The main orb shattered into dozens of shimmering shards, each one transforming into smaller bolts that rained down like a meteor shower. The crowd erupted at the spectacle, shielding their eyes from the glowing onslaught. But through the chaos, Aiko weaved. She disappeared, reappeared, ducked, dodged, never staying in one place long enough to be hit. Ryota gritted his teeth, sweat forming on his brow. “Oh come on! Stay still!” he yelled, clearly annoyed. “You’re like a damn flea!” From his left, a breeze stirred. He turned just in time to see Aiko appear mid-spin, right fist cocked. A clean uppercut to the chin sent Ryota’s head snapping back. He crumpled to the ground in a daze, eyes rolling. “Winner: Aiko Hanabi!” Aiko lowered her fist and stood over Ryota with a sheepish grin. As Aiko helped him to his feet, the announcer asked her to explain her ability. Aiko brushed her short hair out of her eyes. “It’s not teleportation,” she said, glancing at Ryota. “I can swap places with anything that holds spiritual energy. Whether it’s a pebble I charged earlier, a blast mid-air, or even a spark from your attack, if it has energy, I can switch.” The crowd let out a collective “Ohhh…” of realization. Ryota blinked. “That’s way cooler than teleporting,” he admitted, rubbing his jaw. “Still hurts like hell though.” Aiko chuckled and offered him a shoulder. “Come on, tough guy. Let’s go get you an ice pack… or twelve.” Shunjiro was shocked, no, overwhelmed by how powerful everyone was. From conjured lightning to blinding speed, spiritual barriers to elemental mastery, the arena had become a battlefield of impossible abilities. And then there was him. Unlike the others, he had no flashy powers, no legendary weapon humming with arcane energy. Just his bare hands… and a spiritual energy he barely understood, let alone controlled. He shifted anxiously on his feet, fingers twitching with nerves. His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum, and the pressure of the crowd’s roaring anticipation only made it worse. Beside him, Itsuki noticed his trembling hands. She touched his arm gently. “You’ll be alright,” she said softly, her voice like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Shunjiro forced a weak smile. “Is it that obvious?” Itsuki giggled, her wide blue eyes crinkling with kindness. “Only a little.” He chuckled back, despite the tension knotting his stomach. “You have nothing to worry about,” she added. “I know you have it in you. You just need to believe that too.” “…Thanks,” Shunjiro said quietly, the warmth of her words briefly pushing back the fear clawing at him. Then the announcer’s voice echoed through the arena. “Round four! First fighter… Sora Ayanami!” A thunderous cheer erupted. The crowd’s favorite had arrived. Sora strutted forward, silver hair catching the light as he ran a hand through it lazily. His black eyes scanned the crowd with casual arrogance. He cracked his neck and yawned like he was bored. Shunjiro tensed. Please not me. Anyone but him. The announcer continued. “Second fighter… Shunjiro Tenzai!” The world fell silent in his ears. His stomach dropped. Shunjiro swallowed hard. Out of everyone… it had to be him. Sora turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. A slow smirk curled on his face. “Well, looks like I’m the lucky one who gets to fight the little shrimp.” Shunjiro’s fists clenched. “Shut up. You don’t even know me.” Sora laughed. “Don’t need to. That S-rank you got? Total fluke. I can just tell.” The crowd buzzed with whispers. Shunjiro said nothing more. Instead, he looked down, closing his eyes and blocking out the noise. He focused on his breath. The match began. Desperate to make the first move, Shunjiro launched himself forward, leading with a punch straight to Sora’s midsection. Sora slipped to the side easily, and countered with a swift kick that struck Shunjiro square in the ribs, sending him flying across the ring. Pain exploded through his body as he slammed into the ground. Dust rose around him. The crowd laughed. Boos and cheers mixed in the air, a whirlwind of noise. Shunjiro groaned, forcing himself onto an elbow. And then… he saw him. Takeshi. His older brother sat in the stands, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the arena. Shunjiro couldn’t read his face, but the pressure of his presence hit him like a lightning strike. Is that… Takeshi? What is he doing here? Shunjiro grit his teeth, forcing himself up. Come on. You’ve got this. Show him you’re not weak. He lunged again, this time with more force, more desperation. He swung a right hook. And connected. Sora’s head snapped back slightly, blood painting the corner of his lip. The crowd gasped. But the moment was short-lived. Sora licked the blood from his lip, smiling like a wolf. “Nice try, shrimp,” he said coldly. “But it’s no use. My power is Adaptation. I can learn from your moves and make them useless against me.” Shunjiro’s stomach twisted. Adaptation? Before the thought could finish, Sora vanished in a burst of speed. He slammed Shunjiro’s face into the ground with brutal force. The arena spun. Stars danced in Shunjiro’s vision. The crowd’s roar turned to a dull, distant hum, and pain swallowed the rest. “Shunjiro!” A voice broke through the haze. A voice he knew. Itsuki. Warmth spread across his face as healing energy flowed into him. Her hands trembled slightly, but her touch was gentle, her voice strong. “Hang in there,” she whispered. “You can do this. I believe in you.” His eyelids fluttered open. “I… don’t know if I can beat him,” he said shakily. His body screamed in pain. “He’s too strong…” “Yes, you can,” Itsuki said, locking eyes with him. “You’re stronger than you think. Don’t give up now. Not here.” He stared at her, her conviction wrapping around him like armor. I can’t give up… With a grunt, he forced himself to his feet. Every joint in his body burned, but he stood. Not for the crowd. Not even for Takeshi. For himself. But as he raised his fists, he realized his body was trembling. He was spent. Across from him, Sora still stood with that same smirk. Amused. Unbothered. Shunjiro stepped forward… and stumbled. His knees buckled. He couldn’t do it. Not anymore. Silence swept through the arena. The announcer stepped forward solemnly. “Winner: Sora Ayanami.” The crowd roared again, a storm of celebration. But Shunjiro couldn’t hear any of it. He stood there, fists still raised, chest heaving, his face burning with humiliation. I thought I could prove myself… but maybe I really am just a fluke. Each step back to the sidelines felt heavier than the last. Back in the stands, Itsuki met him with a smile. “Thank you… for healing me down there,” he said quietly. “Even after all that… I still couldn’t do anything.” “You did good,” she replied, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You went up against the strongest person in the exams, and you landed a hit. That’s not nothing.” Shunjiro hesitated… then nodded. “Yeah… maybe.” But his eyes searched the crowd. Takeshi’s seat was empty. He left. His throat tightened. Was he disappointed? Did he finally realize I’m not worth watching? He clenched his fists. I never wanted to fail in front of him again… Back in the competitors’ seats, Sora dropped into his chair with a sigh of satisfaction. Next to him sat Yoshinori Raikawa, calm and collected as always. Sora stretched his arms behind his head. “See?” he said. “Told you. That shrimp scored S by pure luck.” Yoshinori didn’t respond at first. Then, quietly, he said, “You’re wrong.” Sora glanced over. “That punch he landed?” Yoshinori continued. “It was strong. Strong enough to make that S-rank real. He’s just… a beginner. He doesn’t know how to do anything yet, except punch.” Sora blinked. “…Huh. Well…” he muttered, rubbing his jaw with a smirk. “That punch did hurt. Made me bite my tongue.” The streets of Radiance buzzed with excitement as crowds spilled out of the exam arena. Laughter echoed between the buildings, and conversations about standout fighters filled the air. Vendors called out to passing recruits, selling skewers and sweet bread to those still riding the adrenaline of the day. Among the crowd, a figure in a black cloak moved quietly, slipping through the chaos like a shadow. The hood hung low over his head, casting most of his face in darkness, except for a single, visible detail: a short, neatly trimmed goatee resting on a strong jaw. He didn’t speak. Didn’t stop. Didn’t look back. Only once did he pause, at the edge of the main street, just as the cheers from the arena behind him reached a new peak. He turned slightly, just enough to glimpse the towering walls of the exam grounds in the distance. A small smile curved his lips. It was a quiet, knowing smile. One that carried pride… and sorrow. And then he walked on. The noise of the crowd faded with each step, swallowed by the city’s rhythm. His cloak fluttered behind him in the breeze, brushing against the cobblestone as he disappeared down a side street. No one stopped him. No one recognized him. To the world, he was just another passerby. But in that smile, brief and hidden was a silent truth: He had seen enough. And that was all he needed.