Chapter 22 — Controlled Violence
The academy's Practical Combat Hall was older than the spires.
That was the first thing Kairo noticed.
The stone beneath his boots was worn smooth by generations of students — not from maintenance, but from friction. From bodies sliding across it. From blood washed away too many times to count. The air itself felt heavier here, saturated with old mana residue that clung to the lungs.
This was not a classroom.
It was a proving ground.
Rows of elevated stone benches circled a wide arena floor. Rune-etched pillars stood at the edges, dormant for now, their purpose unmistakable: containment, suppression, and survival enforcement.
Lyra walked beside Kairo, fingers clenched around the strap of her satchel.
"I hate this place," she muttered.
Selene, a step behind, adjusted her gloves with mechanical calm. "Everyone does. That's the point."
Kairo said nothing.
He didn't walk with them because he sought company.
They walked with him because proximity offered… gravity.
That fact irritated both of them in different ways.
"First-years!" a voice boomed across the hall.
Instructor Vargan Holt strode into the arena like a war veteran entering familiar territory. His body was thick with scar tissue, one arm reinforced with blackened metal runes fused directly into bone.
"Today," Vargan continued, "you learn the difference between talent and survivability."
A ripple of nervous energy passed through the students.
"Controlled sparring," someone whispered.
Vargan grinned, teeth too white. "Controlled only means you won't die."
That didn't help.
He activated the pillars. Mana pressure swept across the hall like a descending weight.
CIEL reacted instantly.
[Mana Suppression Field: Active.] [Output reduction: 47%.] [Physical reinforcement prioritized.]
"Pairs will be assigned," Vargan said. "No refusals."
His eyes flicked — deliberately — toward Kairo.
"And no holding back," he added.
That was not directed at the class.
That was directed at him.
---
The First Match
Names were called.
Gasps followed.
"Kairo — versus Bren Tesk."
A murmur spread.
Bren Tesk was large even by academy standards — broad shoulders, thick forearms, Beastkin blood visible in the faint ridges beneath his skin. His blessing was known already.
Iron Hide (Minor) — passive reinforcement of skin and muscle.
Bren rolled his neck and stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "No hard feelings," he said, grinning. "But I've been waiting."
Kairo stepped onto the arena floor.
The barrier flared.
Vargan's voice echoed. "Begin."
Bren moved first — explosively.
He closed the distance in two strides, fist swinging in a heavy arc aimed not to test, but to crush.
Kairo shifted.
Not backward.
Sideways.
The fist missed by inches, air pressure rippling against Kairo's cheek.
Bren blinked. "Huh—"
Kairo stepped inside Bren's guard.
A palm strike to the ribs — light, precise.
Bren laughed. "That's it?"
Then the delayed force detonated.
His breath vanished in a choking gasp as his body lifted off the ground and slammed into the barrier.
The hall went silent.
Bren slid down slowly, stunned but conscious.
Vargan's eyebrows rose.
"Winner," he said after a pause, "Kairo."
No cheers.
No applause.
Only staring.
Lyra swallowed. "He didn't even use mana…"
Selene's jaw tightened. "He adjusted timing. That's worse."
---
Pressure Increases
The matches continued.
And something changed.
Opponents stopped testing Kairo.
They started targeting him.
One after another.
Different styles. Different blessings.
A Human swordsman with enhanced reflexes.
A Beastkin grappler.
An Aetherial caster attempting compressed spellwork.
Each time, Kairo adapted.
Not perfectly.
Once, a blade grazed his shoulder.
Another time, a mana bolt scorched his sleeve.
CIEL recorded it all.
[Data acquired.] [Pattern divergence observed.] [Adaptation ongoing.]
Between matches, whispers grew louder.
"That wasn't luck."
"He's reading them."
"He's not even breathing hard."
From the upper benches, second-years watched openly now.
One of them laughed.
"First-years playing heroes," a male voice sneered. "Cute."
Another voice replied calmly, "That one's different."
---
Lyra & Selene — Clarified
During a brief recess, Lyra approached Kairo cautiously.
"You don't have to fight everyone," she said quietly.
Kairo looked at her. "They'll keep coming."
Selene crossed her arms. "You draw attention just by existing. That's not a choice."
Kairo considered that.
"Then stay back," he said.
Lyra hesitated. "We're not… following you."
Selene nodded. "We're orbiting the same danger."
Kairo accepted that explanation.
Not companionship.
Shared gravity.
---
Final Match — Second-Year Interference
Vargan raised a hand.
"One last demonstration," he announced. "Volunteer."
Silence.
Then a second-year dropped down into the arena.
Tall. Lean. Eyes sharp.
"I'll do it," he said casually. "Name's Cerris Vale."
The hall erupted.
"A second-year?!"
"That's not allowed—"
Vargan didn't stop him.
"Fine," the instructor said. "One exchange."
Cerris smiled at Kairo. "Don't worry. I'll be gentle."
CIEL warned immediately.
[Threat level: Elevated.] [Second-Year Mana Density Detected.]
The barrier flared brighter.
Cerris moved.
Too fast.
Kairo barely avoided the first strike — his sleeve tore, skin stinging.
Pressure slammed into him like a wall.
For the first time that day, Kairo stepped back.
Not fear.
Recalculation.
Inside the simulation space, CIEL accelerated projections.
"Adjust," Kairo thought.
He moved again.
This time, when Cerris struck, Kairo met it.
The collision cracked stone.
Mana surged.
The barrier screamed.
Cerris staggered back, eyes wide.
"…What are you?"
Vargan slammed his staff down. "Enough!"
The barrier dropped.
Silence roared.
Kairo stood still, chest rising slowly.
He hadn't won.
But he hadn't lost.
And that mattered more.
---
Aftermath
As students filed out, the looks had changed.
Fear.
Respect.
Desire.
Ambition.
Lyra exhaled shakily. "That… wasn't controlled."
Selene nodded. "That was a message."
Kairo walked ahead of them, unhurried.
Second-years watched from the shadows now — no longer amused.
No longer dismissive.
The hierarchy had noticed him.
And hierarchies hated instability.