No arena was announced.
No brackets appeared.
Instead, the participants were summoned into the Inner Hall—a circular chamber built for declarations, not duels. The stone floor bore no markings, only faint scars left by older decisions.
The remaining candidates stood apart from one another.
Not rivals yet.
Observers filled the upper tiers—Council analysts, academy masters, foreign envoys pretending to be neutral. Every seat was occupied.
Valen stood at the center.
"The final stage of the Evaluation," he said evenly, "will now be assigned."
A pause.
"Engagements will be individual," he continued. "Cross-village. No repetition. No substitutions."
The air tightened.
"No appeals," Valen added. "Pairings are final."
Light ignited beneath the floor.
Five sigils appeared—Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, Lightning—then fragmented, rearranging into unfamiliar combinations.
"This is not a tournament," Valen said. "Order does not indicate rank."
A name appeared in the air.
Not spoken aloud.
Just displayed.
A Pyraen delegate stiffened as the opposing sigil formed.
Earth.
Murmurs rippled through the hall.
Fire versus Earth—direct, brutal, telling.
Another pairing formed.
Wind versus Water.
Speed against absorption.
Control against evasion.
Interest sharpened.
"These are deliberate," someone whispered.
"They always are," Masako replied quietly.
A third name appeared.
Then a fourth.
Each pairing chosen not for balance—
but for exposure.
Valen raised a hand.
"Understand this clearly," he said. "Victory will be noted."
A pause, longer this time.
"But ranking will consider how you fight."
A Zephra delegate laughed softly. "So restraint matters now?"
Valen's gaze snapped toward her.
"Restraint always mattered," he said. "You simply weren't watching for it."
The final sigil hesitated.
Lightning flickered—brief, uncertain.
Then stabilized.
The name appeared.
Kurogane.
The opposing sigil did not resolve immediately.
The hall went silent.
Seconds passed.
Then—
Wind.
A sharp inhale spread through the observers.
Lightning versus Wind.
Reaction against motion.
Decision against unpredictability.
Valen watched the chamber carefully.
"This pairing," he said, "will proceed third."
Not first.
Not last.
Strategic placement.
Masako closed her eyes briefly.
"They want comparison," she murmured. "Not outcome."
Raishin's jaw tightened. "Or they want provocation."
Valen turned back to the candidates.
"Fights will be isolated," he announced. "One at a time."
"No audience interference."
"No external support."
"Healers will intervene only upon termination."
Someone asked quietly, "Termination of what?"
Valen did not answer.
Instead, he concluded:
"You have one hour."
"To prepare."
"To reflect."
"To decide what you are willing to show."
The sigils faded.
The candidates were escorted away—each in a different direction.
No conversations allowed.
No final words exchanged.
Kurogane walked alone.
Wind.
He exhaled slowly.
"Fast," he murmured. "Unpredictable."
Raishin appeared beside him, silent until they reached the corridor turn.
"They chose Wind because it leaves no marks," Raishin said.
"And lightning?" Kurogane asked.
Raishin didn't answer right away.
"Lightning leaves aftermath," he said finally.
Kurogane nodded.
High above, Council analysts recorded projections.
Risk curves.
Behavioral likelihoods.
Casualty probabilities.
None of them noticed one important thing.
This was the first time Kurogane looked forward to a fight.
Not to win.
But to prove something the system couldn't classify.
The first duel would begin soon.
And when it did, every assumption made so far would be tested—violently.