Physical foundation testing began with a corpse pretending to be a bell.
The academy called it an impact gauge.
I called it what it was: a public humiliation machine with numbers.
A black mannequin stood in the center of the assessment ring, humanoid in shape and offensive in confidence. Sigils covered its torso in neat silver bands. Each strike would measure force, control, efficiency, Aether reinforcement, and recoil damage. Students were expected to hit it once with their dominant style.
A simple test.
Which meant the danger was hiding in the part no one had explained.
Professor Malcris stood near the recording dais, hands folded behind him. Instructor Seren Veylan had joined him sometime during the floor shift, and unlike Malcris, she looked exactly as dangerous as she was. Short silver hair. Scar over one eyebrow. Leather gloves. Eyes like someone had once disappointed her by dying inefficiently.
She studied the candidates, then the mannequin.
