"Team One—GO!"

The first group surged into the simulated battlefield, their spirit beasts racing beside them. A bird-like flier took to the sky, while a bulky, rhinoceros-style beast slammed through the first barrier of conjured vines with brute force.

They were fast. Too fast.

"They're charging straight through," Rowan murmured, narrowing his eyes.

"Reckless," Lyra added.

Aston said nothing. He was watching the terrain—watching for Instructor Theron.

The instructor didn't wait long.

With a deafening boom, a searing arc of flame tore across the field like a whip. Inferno dropped into the fray like a predator, his claws gouging furrows into the reinforced ground. The team's flier let out a shriek and banked hard, but a streak of Rapid Fire knocked it from the sky. One of the students screamed as he was "tagged" by the instructor at the back.

Only one managed to reach the objective crystal—his beast shielding him long enough to snatch it—before the instructor landed in front of the return path with a wide, gleaming smile.

"Too slow!" he shouted.

A second flare signaled their elimination.

A collective murmur rippled through the remaining teams.

"Did he just block the return route?"

"Yeah," Aston said grimly. "He wasn't bluffing."

"Team Two—GO!"

This time, the group used more caution. A stealth-based approach. Cloak-type beasts and diversion tactics. They made it halfway through before the instructor disabled their cover using a sweep of Inferno's Combustion Aura, igniting nearby vegetation and forcing them into the open. A student froze. Another misread a spirit signal and triggered a trap illusion. They never made it to the crystal.

"Team Three—GO!"

The third team fared a little better—using elevation, flanks, and a series of synchronized distractions—but it still wasn't enough. Instructor Theron used his mobility ruthlessly, striking not with overwhelming force, but with perfect timing. Inferno never unleashed more than basic attacks, but his mere presence caused panic, and panic caused collapse.

The flare went up again.

Three teams down. All eliminated.

"Stars," Rowan muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's running them down like a war beast."

"Which is exactly what he is," Lyra said. "His control is calculated. He's testing response time under pressure."

A quiet pause fell over the group as they watched the fourth team begin to prepare.

Seria turned her head toward Kai, who sat a little removed from the rest of them, adjusting his grip on Shelldon's shell with both hands. He hadn't spoken much since joining their group.

"Hello, Kai," she said. "You specialize in defense. Why'd you apply for Scouting? You'd be better off in Spirit Combat courses with a tank like Shelldon."

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Kai hesitated. His glasses slipped again, and he pushed them back up with one finger. "I… didn't qualify for Spirit Combat."

Seria blinked. "You didn't?"

"I only have red potential," he said softly, not looking up. "Scouting was the only track with open acceptance criteria. The academy's policies said it doesn't discriminate against potential—just capability. I passed the entrance trials through my technical knowledge and… tools I built."

He glanced down at Shelldon. "We're not fast, or flashy. I knew that going in. But once I reach Elite Rank, I'm hoping to contract a second beast—a scout-class companion. Something quick. Someone that can cover what I lack. I'm not trying to be the best. Just… useful."

The group went quiet.

It wasn't pity they felt—Aston could tell. It was something closer to quiet respect.

"You've already proven you're useful," Aston said, voice firm. "You know how many red potentials even make it into Dawn Crest? I'm one of them."

Kai's and Lyra's eyes widened. Seria and Rowan just nodded, knowing this information earlier.

"You're only a red potential? But you may as well be top of the class! I have heard from Rowan your exploits during the exams."

"Well, potential and abilities are different," Seria said, her gaze swooping at Aston. "You can have high potential, but low capabilities. Same is true with the opposite."

Kai's ears flushed pink. "Thanks…"

Rowan nudged him with an elbow. "You got the brains of a professor. You're already covered."

Kai chuckled quietly. "I'd settle for surviving today's drill."

Another flare went up.

"Team Five—step up!"

Another flare shot into the sky. Team Five surged forward—well-coordinated, fast, and aggressive. They fanned out, using smoke pellets and sensory-disrupting spirit tags to mask their approach.

It almost worked.

Inferno dropped from above like a falling star, landing with explosive force that sent half their formation tumbling. The instructor moved faster than anyone expected, tagging their rear flanker and disrupting the rest with a sweeping tail strike. Their formation collapsed in seconds.

Flare. Dispersal.

"Too obvious," he called. "You tried to outpace a drake. Bad call."

Aston watched carefully. He wasn't just analyzing tactics—he was watching the instructor. How he moved, how Inferno reacted, when the strikes came. They weren't just fast—they were timed. Like clockwork.

"Team Six—GO!"

This team tried a misdirection-heavy approach, with illusions masking their movement. But Instructor Theron had seen it before. He used Inferno's Combustion Aura again—burning away the haze and flushing them into open sight. The team's flier was grounded by a targeted Rapid Fire, and a student who hesitated for just a moment was tagged directly.

One made it to the crystal.

None made it back.

"Same mistake," Lyra said quietly. "They made no plan for retreat."

"Getting there is only half the mission," Seria agreed.

The seventh team was all brute force—high-defense beasts, frontal assault, overwhelming pressure. They reached the crystal through sheer durability, but by then, Inferno had already flanked around. Their slow movement gave Instructor Theron time to box them in, and when his drake cut off their escape route, panic set in.

"Flankers need speed," Rowan muttered. "Not just bulk."

"Team Eight—GO!"

Their group was smart. They used elevation, limited terrain hazards, and even baited one of Instructor Theron's strikes into an illusion trap. For a moment, it looked like they'd make it.

Then Inferno used Scorching Dive.

A streak of burning light slammed into their lead runner and dispersed the others into chaos. They recovered enough to grab the crystal, but not even the speed-type beast could outrun the suppression glyphs that activated across the return lane. One by one, they fell.

By now, most of the remaining students were silent. Not out of fear—but focus.

Instructor Theron clapped his hands. "Good! Finally getting serious out there. Now…"

He turned, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"Team Nine—next!"

Aston exhaled slowly. "Our turn."

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