The sun barely crested the horizon when the alarm bells of Nalanda Academy echoed across the campus. Today was the first official day of combat drills. No preamble, no mercy. The students had barely caught their breath from the previous day's torturous endurance test, and now they stood lined up across the training fields once more.
Lucien stood in the center of the formation, his golden hair glinting in the morning light. His expression was calm—dangerously calm. Around him, chatter buzzed like bees, some filled with anticipation, others dripping with anxiety.
"Did you hear?" whispered a beastkin student with feline ears, tail twitching. "He took down the obstacle course with record timing."
"Yeah, but he's only human," another muttered. "Let's see how he does today."
At the head of the formation, Instructor Gorath stomped forward. His massive green frame towered above them, tusks gleaming as he snarled, "Today, you fight. Pairs will be chosen at random. Rules: No killing. No maiming. Don't cry if you lose."
Gorath's voice shook the field.
"As always, restriction bands are active," he growled. "No cheating with rank-based brute force."
The bands hummed faintly on every student's wrist, suppressing their raw physical power to the average level of a mid-F-Rank.
Lucien glanced at his band and then at the list being projected magically in the air. His opponent: a fourth-year orc named Brok.
A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd.
Brok stomped forward, muscles bulging, green skin slick with sweat. "Don't blink, golden boy."
Lucien smirked. "I never do."
The signal rang.
Brok charged like a bull. The ground shook under each step. He leapt high, fists aimed to crush Lucien's ribs.
Lucien didn't move. He let his Flow of Adaptation guide him.
Shift left. Counter elbow. Drop sweep.
His body moved before thought. Brok's massive punch passed harmlessly by as Lucien slipped inside the strike, elbowed the orc's armpit, and swept his leg.
Brok hit the ground with a loud thud.
Silence.
Then—"Thirty years of Hedong, thirty years of Hexi!" Brok howled from the floor. "Just you wait, boy, the tables will turn!"
Laughter erupted.
Lucien offered a hand. "Maybe in thirty more years."
And thought "Am I the villain of this orc Xiao yan .
Elsewhere, a different scene brewed.
Liana danced across the field with teleportation flickers. Her mastery over space magic was too refined. Her opponent—a water mage from a minor noble line—didn't last two minutes.
"Is she blinking or teleporting?" someone gasped.
"Neither," said Selena from the sidelines. "She's flowing."
She watched with a pleased look, fingers tapping against her chin. Lucien, too, hadn't gone unnoticed. Her eyes occasionally flicked to him, watching not just what he did, but how.
Meanwhile, Ignis entered his own arena. His blade gleamed under sunlight, elegant and brutal. He met his opponent—a bulky dwarven hammer-user—with precise footwork and relentless strikes.
Clang. Slide. Parry. Riposte.
It ended with Ignis' blade gently resting against the dwarf's throat.
Lucien observed from the distance. Ignis' aura had matured. His footing no longer hesitated. The rage had cooled into something dangerous.
They locked eyes briefly. No words. Just silent promise.
---
Then came the vampire incident.
Prince Vaerion of the Crimson Hollow Clan crept like a shadow, his gaze locked on Liana. She stood resting, sipping mana-replenishing water. Her neck gleamed invitingly.
"Scented like starlight," Vaerion murmured, eyes glowing. "Just one drop—"
Before his fangs about to touch her neck , she spun and slammed a space-compressed palm into his chest.
BOOM!
Vaerion crashed into a tree, upside-down, cape fluttering like a broken bat wing.
"Ask before touching," Liana hissed.
Lucien walked over, glancing at the vampire tangled in roots.
"You okay, Count Sparkles?"
Vaerion groaned. "So worth it..."
Selena chuckled under her breath, suppressing a grin.
Back at the field, Instructor Gorath began announcing the rankings of the day. "Top three performers. Liana. Lucien. Ignis. Rest of you—step it up!"
Whispers circled.
"Those three... are monsters."
"Maybe we should form teams..."
"An alliance?"
Selena took a slow breath. Her private notes glowed faintly in her magical lens. She smiled to herself.
"These three will shape the next arc of history," she whispered.
But in the shadows of Nalanda, a few masked figures watched the sparring grounds from behind illusion barriers. Their whispers didn't sound impressed.
"They're only children," one said. "But even so, that Lucien... must die."
[PROFICIENCY PANEL – LUCIEN]
Flow of Adaptation – S Rank (Perfected Flow: 29% into next tier)
Reactive Sword Style – Level 4 → 5 (Duel improved timing)
Mana Resonance – Level 9 (Near Breakthrough)
Spatial Instinct – Level 2 (Observed Liana's techniques, passive growth +5%)
Combat Footwork: Phantom Steps – Level 3 (No change)
Meditation – Mastered (Passive maintained)
More danger loomed on the horizon, but for now—
The battlefield was theirs.