The classroom wasn't what I expected.
No rows of desks. No whiteboards or projectors. Just a long ring of metal benches surrounding a circular arena, like some mix between a lecture hall and a combat pit.
Students filled the seats—some relaxed, others on edge. Most wore colored wristbands like mine. Red. Blue. Green. One kid had a white band. Everyone avoided sitting too close to him.
Iris plopped down beside me without asking.
"Combat Theory," she said. "First class of the day. Watch out for the ones who think this is a game."
"Is it not?"
She gave me a flat look. "You nearly turned your old school into a crater, and you're asking?"
Fair.
A tall woman in a silver coat entered through the side door. Short gray hair, mirrored shades, the kind of presence that made everyone straighten at once.
"Good morning," she said, voice like cut steel. "I'm Commander Rho. I teach you how not to die."
No greeting. No warm-up. Just that.
She snapped her fingers. A panel on the floor opened, and out rose a set of combat dummies—scorched, dented, clearly well-loved.
"Your task," she continued, "is to survive ten seconds against one of these without relying solely on your powers. Because out there, powers can fail. Instincts don't."
A groan rippled through the class.
Iris muttered, "She says this every week, then picks a few students to prove her point."
Rho's gaze scanned the benches. I tried to look small. Invisible.
"Cael Merrin."
Of course.
"You're up."
A few surprised murmurs followed me as I stood. The white-band kid leaned back with a smirk.
I stepped into the circle. The dummy across from me activated with a mechanical clunk, then surged forward—fast.
I barely dodged. It struck again, landing a blow to my ribs that knocked the air from my lungs.
"Use your head," Rho barked. "Not your powers."
I stumbled back, then planted my feet.
I moved low, grabbed the dummy's shoulder, and used its momentum to shove it off balance. The crowd let out a small surprised cheer as I avoided the next hit.
Ten seconds passed. Barely.
I half-limped back up to the benches. Iris handed me a cold pack like she'd had it ready in advance.
"You didn't die," she said. "That's a win."
Before I could answer, someone stood in front of me. The kid with the white band.
Tall. Smug. Scar across his neck. Wild brown hair. "You think you're special just 'cause you glitched that power orb?"
Iris groaned.
He stepped closer. "People like you come in burning hot and fade out fast."
My hand twitched. The limiter hummed gently, like it could sense my mood.
"I'm not looking for trouble," I said, finally.
He smiled. "Too bad."
Then he shoved me.
I stumbled, nearly falling, but Iris caught my arm.
Commander Rho didn't even look up. "Mr. Rian, sit down before I put you through the wall myself."
The white-band kid—Rian, apparently—snorted and backed off, but not before whispering, "See you in the field, lightning boy."
I sat back down, my pulse jumping.
Iris shook her head and grinned. "Welcome to the academy."