Scene 1
The corridor outside the lecture hall emptied in slow waves.
Mana residue still clung to the air, a faint aftertaste of theory and tension. Maxwell walked in silence beside Tobias, his mind replaying Dr. Hume's words, the way the room had shifted when Rare Abilities appeared on the screen.
"You realize," Tobias said, breaking the quiet, "half the class thinks you're either a fraud or a ticking disaster."
Maxwell shrugged. "Both require patience."
"That's not comforting."
Rachel slowed ahead of them, then turned. "Training hall. Now."
Tobias groaned. "You two don't waste time."
"You don't have to come," Rachel said.
"I absolutely do," Tobias replied. "Someone needs to stop him from getting stabbed."
The training hall doors slid open with a low hum.
The space was quieter than the courtyard. Cleaner. Purpose-built. Mana dampeners pulsed beneath the floor, keeping power in check. This was not a place for spectacle. This was where mistakes hurt.
Rachel stepped into the center and drew her sword.
"This isn't a duel," she said. "It's correction."
Maxwell rested his hand on his katana but did not draw it yet. "Correction of what."
"Your reliance on reaction," she said. "You let opponents dictate pace."
"I survive that way."
"You won't always," Rachel replied. "Not against people who don't telegraph."
She took stance.
Maxwell exhaled and drew his blade.
They moved.
Rachel pressed immediately, water shaping along her sword in thin, controlled streams. Her strikes came faster than in the duel. Less flourish. More intent.
Maxwell avoided. Stepped. Redirected.
Steel rang.
"You're doing it again," Rachel said, adjusting mid-swing.
"Studying."
"Overthinking."
She shifted rhythm sharply, flooding mana into her footwork. The floor slicked for a heartbeat. Her blade cut low, then snapped upward.
Maxwell barely slipped past it.
His appraisal surged. Not copying. Recording.
"Your left shoulder drops before you commit," he said.
Rachel's eyes flashed. "Then stop talking."
He did.
Maxwell stepped in. His blade moved with her cadence, her angle, her timing. Not perfect. Not equal. But close enough.
Rachel blocked, skidding back half a step.
She stared at him.
"So that's it," she said quietly. "You don't take power. You take intention."
Maxwell lowered his blade slightly. "Intent is louder."
They separated.
Tobias let out a slow whistle from the edge of the hall. "I don't know what that was, but it looked expensive."
Rachel almost smiled.
Almost.
The air changed.
Pressure rolled in, subtle but absolute.
Rachel stiffened.
Maxwell felt it immediately. His appraisal recoiled, instinctively pulling inward.
From the upper balcony, Queen Jessica Voss stood in silence, hands resting lightly on the railing. No guards. No announcement. Just presence.
"Continue," she said.
Rachel swallowed and raised her sword again.
Maxwell tightened his grip.
This time, he did not hesitate.
The blades met once more, steel ringing sharp and clear, as the weight of expectation settled fully on the training hall.
Scene 2
The clash slowed.
Not because either of them tired, but because the air itself demanded restraint.
Rachel disengaged first, stepping back with controlled breathing. Water receded from her blade and faded into nothing. Maxwell followed suit, lowering his katana, shoulders rising and falling once before settling.
Queen Jessica remained above them.
She did not clap. She did not praise.
"You adapt quickly," she said, her voice carrying without effort. "Too quickly for someone untrained."
Maxwell looked up. "I observe."
"Yes," Jessica replied. "And you survive."
She turned her attention to Rachel. "Your strikes are clean. Your control remains superior. Yet you allowed him to dictate tempo."
Rachel straightened. "I underestimated his patience."
"That is not your flaw," Jessica said. "It is your habit."
Rachel accepted the statement without protest.
Jessica's gaze returned to Maxwell. "Why did you hesitate before the final exchange."
Maxwell answered honestly. "Because committing too early would have wasted the opening."
Jessica nodded once. "Correct. But waiting too long creates one."
She stepped away from the railing. The pressure eased, though it did not disappear.
"Training continues," she said. "Separately and together."
Rachel's eyes widened slightly. "You approve."
"I approve of struggle," Jessica replied. "Results come later."
She turned and left without another word.
The doors sealed. The weight lifted.
Tobias exhaled loudly. "I forgot how to breathe for a second."
Rachel sheathed her sword. "You did well," she said to Maxwell. "But don't misunderstand this."
"I won't," Maxwell replied. "This is the beginning."
They left the hall together.
Outside, the academy had shifted again. Notices glowed along the walls. Pairings updated in real time. Training groups formed and dissolved as students gathered around screens.
Maxwell's name appeared.
Assigned Partner. Rachel Voss.
Secondary Evaluation Track. Adaptive Combat.
Murmurs spread.
Rachel read it and shook her head. "You're officially my problem now."
Maxwell allowed himself a small smile. "I've been worse things."
As they walked on, neither noticed the small lens retracting from the ceiling above. Data streamed elsewhere. Patterns refined.
"Confirmation complete," a voice said quietly in a sealed chamber. "Behavior aligns with projection."
A pause.
"Proceed to phase two."
The academy lights dimmed slightly as evening approached.
And somewhere beneath the surface, plans adjusted around a boy who refused to stop moving forward.