Admiral drifted toward me, that dense navy form somehow even more intimidating now that we were about to fight.

  A flash of green light erupted between us.

  I flinched back, shielding my eyes. When the brightness faded, two wooden swords floated in the air—one in front of me, one in front of Admiral.

  "These will serve as your weapons for this evaluation," Shrilyva said, their green glow steady. "The combat is not intended to cause permanent harm."

  A wooden sword. Great.

  I don't know how to use a sword.

  I grabbed the weapon anyway. It was lighter than I expected, the wood smooth and cool against my palm.

  ? Yuuki, I must be honest—in terms of physical combat, I cannot assist you directly. I have no body to control, no reflexes to share. ?

  Yeah, I figured.

  Admiral took their sword without ceremony. They didn't even bother assuming a stance—just held the weapon loosely, hovering forward with that same heavy, inevitable presence.

  They're not even taking this seriously.

  "Aderuti," Rhydysseus said. "Establish the barrier."

  "Of course."

  Violet light flared at the edges of the room, forming a circular wall that enclosed the central podium. The space was maybe five meters across—barely enough room to maneuver.

  I don't have anywhere to run.

  Then the floor lurched.

  The podium stretched. The space bent, expanded, warped in ways that made my stomach flip. When it settled, the arena had tripled in size—still enclosed by the violet barrier, but now large enough for actual movement.

  What the hell?

  ? Spatial manipulation. One of the Luminaries' abilities, presumably. ?

  They can just... do that?

  ? Apparently. Note: we should never make enemies of beings who can bend space. ?

  Yeah, no kidding.

  I didn't have time to process it further.

  Admiral moved.

  One moment they were ten meters away. The next, they were directly in front of me, wooden sword driving toward my stomach with terrifying speed.

  I threw myself left—too slow. The blade caught my side, a glancing blow that still sent me stumbling. Pain flared across my ribs.

  "Ack—!"

  I hit the ground, rolled, scrambled back to my feet. My side throbbed.

  That hurt. That really hurt.

  Admiral hadn't stopped. They were already closing the distance again, sword raised.

  "You should not be distracted during combat, Yuuki." Their voice was cold. "Did Cobalt teach you nothing?"

  I barely dodged the next strike, throwing myself sideways. The wooden blade whistled past my ear.

  "Admiral—" I gasped, backpedaling. "Why does it feel like you hate me? We just met."

  "I do not hate you personally." Another strike. I blocked it clumsily, the impact jarring my arms. "I simply do not trust your kind."

  Your kind. Otherworlders.

  "That's—" Duck. Dodge. "—not really fair—"

  "Fairness is irrelevant."

  Admiral launched forward again, a rapid series of strikes that I couldn't hope to match. I blocked what I could, dodged what I couldn't, and took hits on my arms, my legs, my shoulder.

  I'm losing. Badly.

  ? Yuuki. I have a suggestion. ?

  I'm listening.

  ? You cannot win through swordsmanship. But you have other advantages. ?

  Like what?

  ? Materia. And observation. Admiral fights aggressively, but I have noticed a pattern—when they commit to an attack, their focus narrows significantly. Tunnel vision. ?

  So if I can predict where they're going to strike...

  ? You can prepare a counter. But you need time to set it up. ?

  Then I need to survive long enough to observe.

  Admiral came at me again. This time, instead of trying to fight back, I focused entirely on defense—blocking, dodging, retreating. Taking hits when necessary to protect vital areas.

  And watching.

  ? They favor overhead strikes when frustrated. ?

  Noted.

  ? Their reaction time slows slightly after a missed thrust. ?

  Got it.

  ? When they aim for the head, they commit fully. No peripheral awareness. ?

  That's the opening.

  I took another hit to my forearm—painful, but not crippling. My body was starting to ache all over, accumulating damage from a dozen small impacts.

  Okay. I think I have enough.

  Admiral drew back for another strike. I saw the angle, the target—my head, just like AI predicted.

  Now.

  I remembered Teal's training. Their long, rambling explanations about Materia manipulation that I'd mostly tuned out while AI listened carefully.

  "To wield Materia quickly, you must work with elements you truly understand. Feel them. Know them intimately—what makes wind wind, what makes water water. Then breathe that understanding into yourself, let it interact with your Soul Core..."

  I breathed deep.

  Wind. I knew wind. The constant breeze on the Skyland, the gusts that tangled my hair during training, the cool currents that drifted through Athushar's cottage.

  I felt the air around me—currents, temperature, pressure.

  Admiral's sword came down toward my skull.

  "You fell for it," I said.

  And I thrust my hand upward.

  "Wind Materia: Anabatic Wind!"

  Warm air exploded from beneath Admiral, a powerful upward gust that caught them mid-strike. The celestial's form jerked upward, carried by the thermal current, their attack completely disrupted.

  My hair whipped around my face from the backdraft. I probably looked ridiculous.

  I didn't care.

  It worked.

  Admiral stabilized in the air, looking down at me with something that might have been surprise.

  "I did not anticipate that," they admitted.

  "Good."

  "But it is not enough to defeat me."

  Admiral raised one of their formed hands, pointing directly at me. The gesture was deliberate, controlled.

  "This is what true Materia looks like. Light Materia: Lumen Baumaz."

  The sunbeams streaming through the ceiling shifted.

  I watched in horror as the light—the actual light filling the room—bent toward Admiral's hand, gathering into a concentrated point of brilliance.

  Then it fired.

  A beam of pure light shot toward me faster than I could process.

  I threw myself aside—too slow. The beam grazed my cheek, leaving a line of searing pain. I felt blood trickle down my jaw.

  That was lightspeed. Actual lightspeed.

  ? Noted: we cannot dodge light-based attacks through reaction alone. We must anticipate or prevent them. ?

  Yeah, thanks for the tactical update while I'm bleeding.

  Admiral drifted lower, their form practically radiating smugness.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  "What do you think, otherworlder? That is the difference between your Materia and mine."

  I wiped blood from my cheek. My hand was shaking slightly, but I forced my voice to stay steady.

  "It's fast," I admitted. "Really fast."

  "And?"

  "And I'm not going to cower just because you scratched me."

  I raised my own hand—not pointing, but spread open, fingers extended.

  Light. I can work with light too.

  I'd studied optics in school. Refraction, diffraction, the way white light splits into colors when it passes through certain mediums. The science was clear in my mind.

  And Materia was about understanding elements. Making them part of yourself.

  Let's see if this works.

  "Light Materia: Light Diffraction."

  The ambient light in the arena—the rainbow glow from six Luminaries, the sunbeams streaming through the ceiling—rippled.

  Then it shattered.

  Colors exploded outward from my hand in a dazzling cascade. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet—interweaving, spiraling, expanding toward Admiral in a beautiful, blinding wave.

  Admiral's form flickered. Confusion, maybe. The colors were overwhelming, hypnotic, moving at the speed of light itself.

  Can't dodge what you can't see coming.

  The diffracted light engulfed Admiral completely—

  And a blue shield materialized around them.

  The colors splashed against the barrier, scattering harmlessly. Admiral stood protected inside, untouched.

  What?

  I spun toward the source.

  Athushar. The Blue Luminary's form was extended, one hand raised, clearly maintaining the shield.

  Are you kidding me?

  ? Athushar intervened to protect Admiral. ?

  I can see that! Why?!

  Admiral turned toward Athushar, performing that formal bow.

  "Thank you, My Blue Luminary."

  Athushar didn't respond directly. Their attention was on me.

  "The evaluation is concluded," Rhydysseus announced, their voice cutting through my confusion. "We have observed enough."

  I stood there, breathing hard, blood on my cheek, wooden sword still clutched in my aching hand.

  What just happened?

  "Yuuki," Rhydysseus continued. "Your combat style confirms you have not been trained by Erion military forces. Your techniques are improvised, your fundamentals inconsistent. You fight like someone who learned recently, not someone raised as an agent."

  So... I passed?

  "However."

  Of course there's a however.

  Aderuti's violet form leaned forward.

  "We have concerns about your judgment."

  "My judgment?"

  "Your final attack," Shrilyva said, their measured voice carrying a weight that made my stomach drop. "Light Diffraction. You intended to blind Admiral temporarily, correct?"

  "Yes. I thought if I could disorient them, I could close the distance and—"

  "Do you understand what temporary blindness means for a celestial?"

  I stopped.

  No. I don't.

  "We are beings of light," Shrilyva continued. "We require it to exist. Our perception of light and color is not merely sight—it is sustenance. Connection to the world itself."

  Oh no.

  "If you had successfully blinded Admiral, even temporarily, they would have experienced something far worse than disorientation. They would have felt themselves dying. Their form would have begun to destabilize. The psychological trauma alone..."

  Shrilyva didn't finish the sentence.

  They didn't need to.

  I almost killed Admiral.

  I didn't know. I didn't—

  "I'm sorry," I said, and my voice came out rougher than I intended. "I didn't realize. I thought—I was just trying to win. I didn't know it would hurt them that badly."

  "Ignorance," Aderuti said sharply, "is not an excuse."

  "I know. But I'm telling you the truth—I didn't understand celestial biology. I saw an opening and I took it."

  Admiral spoke then, drawing everyone's attention.

  "The otherworlder observed my fighting patterns throughout our engagement. They noticed my tunnel vision—a weakness I was not aware I possessed. When I asked why they never counterattacked during my assault, they admitted they were studying me."

  Wait, is Admiral... defending me?

  "They fought strategically," Admiral continued. "Analyzed my weaknesses. Developed a counter based on limited training and incomplete knowledge. The attack itself was dangerous, yes. But the thinking behind it was sound."

  Admiral turned to face me directly.

  "I underestimated you. That was my error."

  I don't know how to respond to that.

  ? A simple acknowledgment would suffice. ?

  "...Thanks. I think."

  Admiral made a sound that might have been a laugh. Short, sharp, unexpected.

  "You are nothing like the last one."

  "The previous otherworlder? The woman from a thousand years ago?"

  "Yes." Admiral's tone shifted—something darker underneath. "She was weak. Pathetic. Could not defend herself, could not adapt. When things became difficult, she broke."

  That's why Admiral hates otherworlders. Not because of me specifically—because of her.

  "I'm not her," I said quietly.

  "No. You are not."

  Something in the air shifted. Not quite acceptance, but... less hostility, maybe.

  Rhydysseus rose slightly from their throne.

  "We have deliberated. The evaluation of the otherworlder Yuuki will now—"

  The doors exploded open.

  A small celestial—young-looking, red-tinted, clearly panicked—streaked into the chamber.

  "Red Luminary! The Empire's Aveon Army—they're approaching the capital! And the Red Island! They're attacking both simultaneously!"

  The room froze.

  Then chaos.

  "WHAT?!" Rhydysseus's voice thundered through the chamber, their crimson glow flaring so bright I had to shield my eyes.

  All six Luminaries rose from their seats. Their attendants rushed forward, voices overlapping with questions and orders. The carefully maintained dignity of the Prism shattered in an instant.

  The floor shook.

  Not metaphorically—actually shook. A deep rumble passed through the building, rattling the walls, sending dust falling from the ceiling.

  What the hell is happening?

  ? The capital is under attack. ?

  Yeah, I got that part!

  Another tremor. Stronger this time.

  Through the barrier—still active, still enclosing the arena—I could see the Luminaries mobilizing. Rhydysseus was already moving toward the exit, crimson light blazing. The others followed, their attendants forming around them.

  And I stood in the middle of a combat arena, blood drying on my cheek, clutching a wooden sword.

  What do I do?

  What the hell do I do?

  ? For now—survive. ?

  The building shook again.

  Yeah. That's the plan.