The academy buzzed the next morning.
Whispers followed Iron Resolve as they walked through the stone corridors—quiet at first, then bolder, sharper.
"Did you see the board?" "They actually turned a black star gold…" "Lucky mission." "They won't last."
Kael heard all of it.
He didn't react.
He had learned something important during the mission: people talked the loudest when they didn't understand what had changed.
The Star Board still loomed over them, heavy with judgment. One gold star shone beside Iron Resolve's name now—but it didn't erase the others. It only made them more visible.
And that was fine.
Kael stood in front of it longer than usual.
"One down," he murmured.
"Don't get addicted to staring at it," Lyra said, stopping beside him. "You'll strain your neck before your reputation improves."
Kael glanced at her. "You're smiling."
She immediately frowned. "I am not."
He didn't argue.
---
Training began brutally.
No mercy. No favors.
Iron Resolve was pushed harder than any other team—sparring drills, endurance tests, Aether synchronization exercises that Kael couldn't participate in directly.
That didn't stop him.
While others circulated Aether, Kael ran weighted laps around the field. While teams practiced techniques, he drilled movement, timing, and positioning—watching, memorizing, adapting.
Rion Valeris noticed.
From across the grounds, standing at the center of the elite team's formation, Rion's eyes locked onto Kael.
"Still pretending you belong here," Rion said later, when their paths crossed.
Kael stopped walking.
"So are you," Kael replied calmly.
Rion raised an eyebrow. "Careful. You're confusing courage with relevance."
Kael met his gaze. "And you're confusing talent with certainty."
For the first time, Rion didn't smirk.
---
That afternoon, Iron Resolve was summoned again.
Another mission.
Higher difficulty.
"Someone's testing us," one of the team muttered.
Eron nodded. "Good. Means they're watching."
The assignment involved escorting a caravan through a fractured zone—an area where Aether flow was unstable, twisted by lingering corruption. Teams with poor coordination had failed here before.
As they moved through the broken terrain, Kael felt it.
That pressure.
Not fear.
Expectation.
The air distorted. Shadows moved where they shouldn't. Then the attack came—fast, coordinated, intentional.
"These aren't mindless," Lyra said through clenched teeth.
"No," Kael agreed. "They're hunting."
The enemy adapted mid-fight. Targeted weaknesses. Forced mistakes.
Iron Resolve staggered.
Someone fell.
A scream echoed.
For a split second, doubt crept in.
Then Kael stepped forward.
"Listen to me," he shouted, voice cutting through chaos. "They react to Aether spikes. Control it. Bait them with movement, not power."
Eron understood instantly. "Do it."
The plan wasn't flawless.
But it worked.
Kael drew enemies in with reckless positioning, dodging by inches, trusting his team to strike when openings appeared. Lyra's control held. The others followed his rhythm.
When the final enemy fell, silence returned—thick, stunned silence.
Iron Resolve stood again.
Breathing.
Alive.
---
Back at the academy, the board updated.
Another black star faded.
Another gold star appeared.
Not applause.
Not praise.
But recognition.
Kael stared at the board once more—not with hunger this time, but with clarity.
Fear was what stopped people from starting.
Resolve was what carried them through.
And Kael Draven had plenty left.
Far too much for the world to ignore any longer.