Liora Ashveil smiled like someone had finally handed her the correct problem.
That was unfair.
Most people smiled because they were pleased. Liora smiled because violence had become honest.
The arena barrier rose around us in a ring of pale blue light. Outside, the assessment hall blurred into watching faces and distorted whispers. Inside, the floor changed beneath my boots, smooth marble becoming packed gray sand with faint sigils etched under the surface.
Applied combat scenario.
Candidate duel format.
Limited Aether output.
Instructor emergency stop enabled.
Public ranking observation active.
The academy had found a way to make murder educational.
Liora rolled her shoulders once. Her practice sword rested low at her side. No flourish. No noble stance. No wasted motion. The blood on her palm from the impact test had dried in a dark line across her grip.
"Valdrake," she said.
"Ashveil."
"You going to insult me before or after you pretend to lose?"
