The Triangle's training arena was a massive dome of reinforced metal and glass.
From the outside, it looked like a stadium.
From the inside, it felt like a battleground.
Class A students trickled in slowly, each carrying an aura of confidence — the wounded pride of privileged geniuses who hated being surpassed by someone new.
That someone being me.
I walked to the benches and sat down, ignoring the stares.
Lucas arrived a moment later, hands in his pockets, casual as always.
"You're early," he said.
I shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."
"Good," he replied, dropping onto the bench beside me. "You'll need the extra practice."
His tone was calm, but his eyes…
He was analyzing me again.
He always did.
Before I could say anything, the entire room shook.
BOOM.
A massive blast of wind tore across the arena floor.
Students jumped back instinctively — all except Lucas, who simply blinked.
And the source of the explosion stepped forward:
Raisel Silvius — white hair drifting, purple eyes glowing faintly.
Her wind magic crackled around her legs as she landed with a light tap on the floor.
She wasn't attacking.
She was warming up.
"Show-off," Arlo muttered from behind us.
Lucas smiled. "She works hard. Can't blame her for being proud."
I wasn't sure "proud" was the word. She looked… sharp. Tense. Like a blade that refused to dull.
A second blast of wind whipped the ground.
Raisel turned her head slightly — directly toward me.
Her eyes narrowed.
Not hostile.
Not friendly.
Just… assessing me.
Measuring me.
Deciding if I belonged here.
Great.
Students formed groups across the arena.
Some practiced with dummies.
Some sparred.
Some meditated.
I kept to myself and watched the flow of magic around the room with Eyes of Truth.
Fire circulated fast.
Wind swirled erratically.
Earth crawled slowly but heavily.
Water moved like a calm ripple.
My ability revealed everything.
But it also drew attention.
Lucas leaned over. "You've got good perception."
I blinked. "You can tell?"
"You watch people's energy flow the way some watch their movements," he said. "That's perception training."
He wasn't wrong.
Before the conversation could continue, Instructor Lean entered the arena.
"Class A!" he barked. "—Line up."
Students rushed into formation.
Lean paced in front of us like a drill sergeant, hands behind his back.
"Your job today is simple. Familiarize yourselves with each other."
Familiarize.
Triangle language for 'figure out who you can beat and who you should avoid.'
Lean clapped once.
"You have free sparring rights. Pick your opponents."
The room erupted instantly.
Some students ran straight toward their rivals.
Others avoided eye contact and prayed no one noticed them.
I stayed where I was.
Lean's gaze landed on me.
"You. Dreyden."
Of course.
"You will spar," he said.
"With who?" I asked evenly.
Lean smirked.
"With someone appropriate."
He pointed toward the far side of the arena.
A tall boy with slick brown hair, sharp eyes, and a smirk that screamed entitlement stepped forward.
Galen Thorne.
Heir to the Thorne family.
Wind-user.
Arrogant.
Talented.
And pissed off.
Naturally, he hated me.
He cracked his neck. "So you're the late arrival who thinks he belongs in Class A."
I blinked slowly. "I've been here for one day."
"And already higher than three who trained for a month," he snapped.
Ah.
So that's the root of it.
Envy.
Galen strode to the center of the arena.
"Come on, Dreyden," he taunted. "Show us if you actually deserve that uniform."
The entire class turned toward us.
Dhara watched silently.
Riven whispered something to her.
Arlo leaned forward eagerly.
Raisel crossed her arms, analyzing me like I was a math equation.
And Lucas…
He gave me a small nod.
Not encouragement.
Recognition.
I walked toward the arena floor, my pulse steady.
"Begin," Lean ordered.
Wind burst around Galen instantly — blades swirling at his fingertips.
He dashed forward, fast and light.
I activated Eyes of Truth, watching the flow of energy wrap around his legs, increasing speed.
He swung.
I dodged narrowly, the wind-blade slicing past my cheek.
Galen grinned. "Don't just run! Hit back!"
He swung again.
And again.
His attacks were fast, precise, and practiced.
He was stronger than I expected.
But—
He wasn't unpredictable.
On his next strike, I stepped forward instead of back, catching his wrist mid-air.
His eyes widened.
"What—?!"
I circulated my energy.
Fire Fists.
Blue flames wrapped around my hand.
Galen tried to yank himself free—
Too late.
BOOM!
The impact sent him flying backward, skidding across the arena floor.
Gasps echoed.
Wind crackled around his body as he forced himself up, hair disheveled, eyes burning with humiliation.
"You—! How dare y—!"
Lean raised a hand. "Enough."
Galen froze mid-step.
Lean's voice was flat, but his eyes sparkled with interest.
"Winner: Dreyden."
Galen clenched his fists, shaking with humiliation.
Lucas smirked.
Arlo leaned in. "Bro… you flattened him. I'm jealous."
Raisel narrowed her eyes.
Dhara watched quietly, her gaze unreadable.
Students whispered around me, voices overlapping:
"He made it look easy."
"Is he really just a late arrival?"
"His energy control is insane…"
"Does he have a family backing him…?"
"No way, he'd be famous already."
I didn't react.
I just walked back to the bench and sat down.
Lucas leaned in with a small smile.
"Welcome to Class A."
And for the first time…
It didn't feel like I didn't belong.
It felt like everyone else finally realized I did.