The hum of the training yard buzzed louder as students settled into their spots, voices fading into a tense quiet. Rowan shifted uneasily near the edge, watching the towering imitation titan with a mix of apprehension and curiosity.
A shadow fell across his shoulder. "Hey," a clear voice said, calm but confident. Rowan turned to see the girl he had been paired with—sharp eyes, dark braided hair, stance relaxed but ready.
"Kiera," she said, extending a hand. "I heard you're still waiting on your resonance. That true?"
Rowan hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Guess I'm... late to the party."
She smiled, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. "Don't worry. Resonance isn't everything. I'm still figuring out mine too. It's earth-based—I can make simple shapes and figures from the ground."
"We'll get through this. Teamwork makes the Dreamwork, am I right?"
Kiera showed Rowan a reassuring smile, but before Rowan could reply, a sudden crackle from where the imitation titan stood cut through the air, snapping their attention back.
—
Niko cracked his knuckles, eyes gleaming with barely contained excitement. "Alright, Tarin. Ready to see me take this thing down in one hit?"
Tarin, calm as ever, shifted his weight, fingers twitching faintly as if weaving invisible threads in the air. "If you get yourself flattened, don't expect me to catch the pieces."
The imitation titan loomed before them. Towering, muscle-plated, its stone-like skin pulsed with veins of dull blue Etherium. Despite its stillness, there was something in its stance—coiled and waiting—that promised violence.
Niko charged first.
The ground shook beneath each step. His Etherium surged, igniting beneath his skin in orange sparks that crawled up his arms. His muscles expanded mid-sprint, strength layered over strength. With a roar, he leapt—fist cocked—and slammed into the titan's thigh.
Crack.
The echo rattled through the earth. A shallow dent bloomed in the imitation titan's limb.
It turned.
Too slow.
Tarin moved in the space between blinks, his footwork precise, his hands casting Etherium into flickering geometric shapes. A pale hexagonal barrier snapped into existence in front of Niko as the titan's elbow came down like a falling star.
The blow slammed into the barrier with enough force to send a shockwave down the line of watching students.
Niko skidded back, landing hard.
"You're too eager," Tarin muttered, flicking up a second, slanted barrier behind the titan's arm. It rebounded off the hex-glass curve, throwing its follow-up swing wide.
Niko growled, circling. "If you'd locked its arm, I'd have had the core open already."
"Timing. Not brute force."
Their synergy built in heartbeats—Niko weaving around Tarin's protective domes, attacking from angles as Tarin layered the field with shifting zones of control. For a moment, they moved as one unit—offense and defense in perfect tandem.
But perfection frayed quickly.
Niko rushed in for a heavy uppercut, assuming Tarin had locked down the titan's foot.
He hadn't.
The golem shifted its weight. Its knee swung out—a calculated, brutal hook that slipped under the lowest barrier and caught Niko clean across the ribs.
The sound of impact silenced the training yard.
Niko hit the ground with a thud, skidding across dirt. He groaned, arm twitching.
Tarin cursed under his breath. "I said—"
"Yeah, yeah." Niko coughed. "Took a bad angle."
Professor Renwick stood from his perch on the observation wall. "That's enough for Group One. You dented it. That's... something."
He made a loose circle with his hand. The titan froze, then reset—its limbs returning to idle stance.
"Group Two! You're up."
Two girls stepped forward—silent and focused.
The first had a severe expression and short-cut black hair. The other wore an unreadable smile, her eyes glowing faintly violet. They didn't speak as they passed Tarin and helped Niko off the field.
"Watch this," Rowan murmured to Elira and Mira at the edge of the yard. "These two don't talk much, but they've wrecked every sparring sim."
"Good," Mira said softly. "They'll need it."
As Group Two stepped into the circle, the titan twitched. Its instincts recognized the shift in Etherium signatures—new prey.
The black-haired girl raised one hand.
The air around the titan's fist bent.
It came down like a hammer toward her—only to hit the ground with a jarring crash, pulled down mid-swing by an unseen force. The stone cracked beneath it, dust flying upward in a plume.
Gravity manipulation. Subtle, but exact.
The second girl flicked her wrists.
Two whips of violet Etherium coiled from her fingertips—crackling with static. They weren't like Elira's threads—these hissed, writhed, and lashed like living arcs of energy.
She moved fast.
Her first whip coiled around the titan's exposed shoulder, the second slashed at its side. Sparks flew. The titan twisted to swat her, but the gravity user tilted her hand again—its swing dipped, struck empty air.
Together, they danced. One altered the weight of the battlefield; the other punished every stagger with sharp, lashing strikes.
But precision has a margin.
The titan adapted.
It stepped hard into the gravity field—its feet punching through the soil to anchor itself. When the whip-user lunged, it absorbed the hit and spun.
This time, the strike landed.
A backhand sent the violet-whip girl flying backward into a tree. Her aura sputtered as she coughed, stunned.
Renwick sighed. "Yield. Group Three, on deck."
The girls limped off, one helping the other without speaking. The gravity manipulator still had her hand raised, but her resonance was flickering—burned low.
The next groups, Three and Four, stepped in without ceremony. Group Three brought raw force, battering the construct with precise blows and Etherium bursts, but each hit only staggered the titan, never breaking its core. Group Four used cunning tricks and layered Etherium traps—some barriers held for seconds, others fizzled too soon. The titan responded, adapting to every new tactic, exploiting gaps in their defenses.
One by one, each group met resistance, their Etherium reserves drained and their resolve tested.
Professor Renwick's voice cut through the tension, "Enough. Group Five! Let's go."
Elira stepped forward, Mira beside her.
Their contrast was stark—Elira sharp, taut with control, Mira fluid and calm like drifting leaves.
The titan stirred again. This time it raised both arms.
Elira extended her fingers, letting her Etherium threads pour out like drawn silk. They shot forward, anchoring to trees, rocks—and the titan's limbs.
At the rear, Mira's hands glowed faint green.
Small orbs, soft and pulsing, lifted from her palms—drifting across the field like wisps.
They weren't projectiles. They were conduits.
One floated toward Elira and merged into her back.
She straightened, breath evening. Her threads vibrated, strengthened.
The first titan swing came from above.
Elira's threads yanked the titan's arm sideways, sending the strike wide. Another orb from Mira reached her just in time—her fatigue reset, her Etherium balance refreshed.
The threads multiplied.
One snapped around the titan's ankle.
Another around its waist.
Mira sent more orbs forward—two circling Elira, one arcing toward the titan's leg, threading through her constructs and fusing into the web itself.
Elira gritted her teeth and pulled.
The threads jerked taut.
The titan buckled, toppling sideways—partially restrained, limbs wrapped in crackling filament.
It roared and struggled, but the threads didn't give.
Then Mira did something new.
She sent two orbs directly to the threads.
When they touched the lines, the threads pulsed and thickened—taking on new color and weight, like Etherium cables charged by a second source.
"Hold," Mira said gently.
Elira whispered, "Suspend."
The net snapped inward and lifted—the construct immobile, suspended in midair. For three tense seconds, it remained frozen, a fragile stillness hanging over the training yard.
Then, as Elira released her shimmering Etherium threads, the titan slowly slumped to one knee, lifeless for a heartbeat, before regaining a semblance of consciousness. It pushed itself back upright, its heavy limbs creaking as if waking from a deep slumber.
Renwick started to clapped, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet. "Now that's control," he said, eyes gleaming with approval beneath his bushy brows.
The crowd of students stirred, exchanging glances and murmurs, the momentary calm before the next storm.
Renwick turned, voice ringing out over the arena once more. "Group Six, to the arena! Ready yourselves."
The dust shifted underfoot as Rowan and Kiera exchanged a brief look, tightening their grips on their weapons. The distant rumble of the imitation titan stirred their nerves
Rowan's pulse spiked. He glanced around, heart thudding as he reached for the sword resting against the wooden weapon stand—a dull-edged blade with scratches running along its length. His fingers wrapped around the hilt, knuckles white from the grip. The weight felt oddly grounding, a cold metal promise in his hand.
Rowan tightened his grip around the sword's hilt. Beside him, Kiera's dark braids whipped wildly as a sudden gust stirred the dust-laden air. Her eyes sparkled with focused intensity, reflecting the looming imitation titan's jagged silhouette.
"Let's move," Kiera said, voice steady but edged with anticipation.
They stepped forward together, boots crunching over cracked earth littered with shards of stone. The titan's deep, grinding breaths echoed like distant thunder as it turned to face them—massive, unyielding, an unrelenting mountain of stone and Etherium.
Kiera's fingers flexed rapidly, palms brushing the dry ground. The soil trembled as chunks of earth and scattered pebbles lifted, twisting into rough shapes. Before Rowan's eyes, a pair of small stone golems snapped into form—roughly humanoid, their limbs jagged and uneven but eyes glowing with Kiera's earthen energy.
Without pause, Kiera's hands shifted. The golems launched forward, skittering across the dirt like living statues. One jabbed a rocky fist toward the titan's ankle while the other barreled into its calf, grinding stone against stone.
At the same time, Kiera gathered more stones and dirt, molding them with fluid precision. A crude stone sword materialized in her hand, sharp edges gleaming with muted light. She swung it with practiced grace, muscles flexing, strands of hair flicking across her determined face.
Rowan's heart hammered as he drew his own blade, the cold metal a familiar weight. His breath steadied, eyes locking on the titan. He felt every thrum of tension in his limbs, the quickened pulse in his neck, the way his feet pressed firmly into the earth beneath him.
The titan lunged, its massive fist crashing toward Rowan with the force of a falling mountain. He twisted, blade flashing, narrowly deflecting the blow with a ringing clang that vibrated up his arm.
Kiera darted in, slashing at the titan's forearm with her stone sword, sparks flying where blade met enchanted rock. The golems circled like restless sentinels, pounding and grappling to distract their colossal opponent.
With a sudden sweep of her hands, Kiera called more constructs into existence—tiny stone spikes bursting from the earth beneath the titan's feet. The ground trembled as the spikes jabbed upward, forcing the titan to shift uneasily. A low, angry growl rumbled from its throat.
Rowan pressed his advantage, muscles coiling for a strike. His eyes blazed with determination, breath shallow and sharp. He lunged, swinging his sword in a wide arc aimed at the titan's knee joint. The blade bit into stone, sending up a spray of dust and chips, but the titan barely faltered.
Kiera's hair whipped fiercely as she moved fluidly, weaving her resonance like a dance. From her palms, she shaped a heavy stone shield, slapping it against her forearm. She raised it just in time to absorb a crushing blow that would have sent her sprawling.
Steel and stone collided again and again—Rowan darted and struck, Kiera summoned and smashed, their movements a synchronized storm of grit and resolve. The dust churned around them, the smell of crushed rock thick in the air.
The titan roared, swinging its massive arms in blinding fury. Rowan rolled beneath a sweeping blow, the dirt scraping his skin raw. Kiera's stone shield shattered, fragments raining down as she pivoted back, summoning a new weapon—a jagged stone spear nearly as tall as she was.
She lunged, thrusting the spear toward the titan's eye socket. The beast roared in pain, staggering backward as the stone weapon bit deep.
Rowan surged forward, seizing the moment. His sword hammered again and again against vulnerable joints, every strike a hammer blow fueled by desperation.
But the titan's endurance was immense. With a sudden, brutal motion, it swept a massive arm in a horizontal arc. Rowan's body flew through the air, tumbling end over end before crashing hard against the dirt with a breathless grunt.
Pain flared sharp through his ribs. He coughed, spitting dirt, eyes flickering with fierce resolve even as his muscles screamed in protest.
Kiera's gaze snapped to him, concern flashing for a split second before hardening into resolve. She gathered the earth beneath her feet, sending jagged sinkholes opening around the titan's path. The ground cracked and buckled, swallowing chunks of earth and disrupting its footing.
The titan growled, fury bubbling as it fought to maintain balance.
Rowan struggled to his feet, wiping blood and grime from his lip. His eyes locked onto Kiera, who was already in motion—stone spear raised, golems circling, traps set.
Together, they prepared to strike again—but the titan was relentless. With one final, devastating blow, it smashed Rowan down once more, the earth shaking beneath the impact.
Dust filled the air, and Rowan's vision blurred as pain radiated through his body. The titan loomed over him, an unstoppable force of stone and Etherium.