Fenric followed, a slim, nervous boy whose hands shook as he raised his beads.
His shots were a disaster—0, 1, 3—each bead veering wildly, swallowed by the wards or lost in the gale.
A soft groan rippled across Class B's polished benches, their confidence cracking like thin ice.
Kael's anger boiled over.
"Useless!" he snarled, his fist slamming into Fenric's shoulder, sending the smaller boy stumbling.
Fenric's eyes widened, panic flashing as he scrambled to his feet, the benches buzzing with discord.
Class B's unity frayed, their pride battered by the storm and their own failures.
Joren and Lila stepped up, their slicked-back hair and tight ponytail whipping in the fierce gusts.
Their earlier taunts at Class D had evaporated, their focus now on salvaging their own standing.
Joren's beads faltered, struggling against the wind.
Thud.2. A weak hit, outer ring.
Snap.3. Barely better, fifth ring.
Snap.5. The bead clipped the fourth ring, surprising Joren
