The clarification came three days after the notice.
Not detailed.
Not kind.
Just enough to reshape how everyone prepared.
"All candidates should understand," the announcement read,"that the Evaluation will culminate in direct engagement."
The word engagement echoed through the academy halls far longer than combat ever would have.
"It means fights," someone whispered.
"It means war," someone else replied.
The instructors did not correct either interpretation.
What followed was division—not by element, but by mindset.
Some students trained obsessively for duels.
They sharpened reaction speed.Practiced lethal efficiency.Simulated one-on-one confrontations until muscles failed.
"They said 1v1 at the end," one fire-aligned student muttered. "That's all that matters."
Others prepared differently.
They studied formations.Observed movement patterns.Replayed archived conflicts frame by frame—not to copy, but to understand why outcomes happened.
"The fight is the conclusion," a water student noted quietly. "Not the test."
A third group froze entirely.
They waited.
For rules.For confirmation.For safety.
None came.
Instructors responded unevenly.
Some encouraged combat readiness.
"If you hesitate in a duel, you lose," Halvek said flatly.
Others intervened.
"If you only prepare to win," Seliane warned, "you will fail the moment victory stops being the objective."
Masako said nothing.
She only observed.
Kurogane trained alone.
Not against opponents.
Against scenarios.
He stood still in open courtyards and asked himself questions no instructor offered.
What would I do if I couldn't win?
What would I do if winning killed someone?
What would I do if retreat scored higher than victory?
Lightning answered none of them.
That was the problem.
Whispers grew sharper as fragments of information leaked.
"Five candidates per village."
"They're already chosen."
"They're not students like us."
"They were trained for this."
The academy began to feel smaller.
Less like a school.
More like a threshold.
In a sealed chamber far above student quarters, the Council reviewed projections.
"Final stage confirmed," Akihiko said. "Cross-village engagement."
Valen nodded. "1v1 structure simplifies analysis."
"And hides manipulation," Masako replied.
Akihiko ignored her. "Ranking criteria?"
Valen listed them without emotion.
"Combat efficiency."
"Strategic coherence."
"Adaptation under pressure."
"Elemental economy."
"Cognitive response time."
"And," Valen paused, "performance history from prior stages."
Masako exhaled slowly.
"So someone can lose," she said, "and still rise."
Akihiko smiled thinly.
"And someone can win," he replied, "and disappear."
Back in the academy, the students didn't know all that.
They only knew this:
At the end of the test, someone would stand across from another village's representative.
And everything they had done before that moment—every choice, every hesitation, every silent decision—would already have written most of the result.
Preparation continued.
But not everyone was preparing for the same future.