The next morning, the air in the coliseum vibrated with expectation. After Director Carlo Crociato's opening remarks, the cadets dispersed toward their respective tests. Silas noticed that several figures deliberately abstained from participating among them: Damian, from Jared VI, whose build suggested he was an endurance specialist, and Miguel Crociato, from the host academy, a colossus clearly focused on strength.

  The town crier announced the division for the tests and, as expected, the balance was nonexistent. Of the seventeen champions gathered in the arena, the majority headed toward the strength and speed areas, leaving a small group for endurance. In the end, six prepared for the strength tests, five for speed, and only three for endurance. The three cadets left without assignment were pointed out by the crier, who proclaimed their penalty for all to hear: "If you reject your first duel, you will be disqualified!".

  Silas's gaze found Joseph in the strength area. A small smirk of mockery appeared on his face upon seeing the expression of calculation and doubt on his rival's. Joseph was waiting for him there, but Silas headed decisively toward the speed tests.

  ?I guess you had another plan in mind, but you didn't expect me to choose speed, did you??, thought Silas with glee. ?We'll see each other later?.

  His strategy, conceived the night before, was simple and risky: ?Joseph, as part of the organization, must have more traps prepared in the strength test, which is my specialty. It will be better to surprise him if I sign up for speed, where I am also good, using Jormun's spot... I hope he forgives me?. The idea was to win, get the first choice of challenge, and challenge Joseph to a combat that, being of different disciplines, he could not refuse.

  The tests were brutal, given that the use of ether was prohibited and for this they were technologically advanced.

  · In Strength, competitors wore armor that increased their weight exponentially, forcing them to resist until exhaustion or until unconscious ether channeling for protection or survival of the body itself kicked in.

  · In Endurance, an active chest piece stimulated nerve centers to simulate tiredness a hundred times greater than real; whoever covered the most distance won.

  · Speed, on the other hand, was pure dexterity: a race without implements. Only a bracelet with a unique signature on each competitor would record the exact time upon crossing the finish line and if there was any ether use during the course.

  Silas positioned himself at the starting line, in a low stance supporting his hands on the ground. Beside him, a boy with short, almost white hair, Zael Bolta, gave him a smile. —May it be a good race.

  When the signal sounded, everyone exploded into a blur of motion. Silas, propelled by the "explosive steps" technique, took the lead. The race lasted only a few tens of seconds, but for the competitors, time seemed to slow down. He could see Zael very close, with an unflappable smile on his face.

  ?Well, now to win, get the extra medal, and challenge Joseph?, thought Silas, focusing on the finish line.

  But just at the last instant, a blink was enough. He looked at the scoreboard and realized he had come in second. The first place belonged to Zael Bolta.

  ?What happened? I was sure I was first. I only blinked before arriving?, he thought, confused.

  —Wow, what a race! —exclaimed Zael, panting, but euphoric—. I didn't think I would have to push myself so hard. You just broke my previous record, but I broke it again by a thousandth faster than you! By the way, my name is Zael, and yours?

  —Silas —he replied, the envy of defeat stinging his pride—. Good race. I usually compete in strength, but I'm here for other matters.

  —Ok, thanks for the clarification —said Zael, giving it no more importance.

  The results of the other tests arrived shortly after. In Strength, the winner was Joseph Demat.

  ?I see this bastard also has talent?, thought Silas suspiciously, ?although I am sure his equipment was altered in some way. If he were that strong on his own, he wouldn't have worried so much about setting a trap for me?, that thought arose upon seeing that the light on Joseph's suit that should indicate ether use had a slightly different configuration than the other armors.

  In the Endurance test, the champion was undisputed. Abel Tesfaye, from Jared III, a jet-black skinned legionary whose musculature was so defined that every fiber seemed carved from stone, advanced almost a thousand meters before one of his knees finally gave way and touched the ground. Jazmín, for her part, secured an impressive second place. Her body collapsed at seven hundred and fifty meters, losing consciousness in the last stride in an involuntary burst of Ether, which earned her a small penalty of almost two meters. Even so, her mark pulverized that of the majority, who barely surpassed four hundred. Meanwhile, in the stands, her brother Marco hadn't even bothered to compete.

  The first duels were announced with growing tension. Not being obliged to challenge anyone, the choices became a game of strategy. The order was dictated by the results of the tests.

  Joseph, as the strength winner, was first. His choice surprised no one: Zenit Lugal, Leon's cousin, who had come in second place. Zenit had the same imposing complexion as Leon, but in his eyes burned a much more passionate impetus. Wounded in his pride by the challenge, and having the option to choose the type of contest, he opted for the inevitable: combat.

  Abel, the endurance champion, challenged no one, apparently more interested in a fight against his own marks than against another cadet. The choice passed to the second place, and the arena held its breath. As expected, Jazmín Jarn chose her brother, Marco Jarn. Having no specialty test and having been challenged, Marco could not refuse. He was obliged to face her in a combat duel.

  Finally, Zael's turn arrived. After thinking for a moment, looking at the sky, Silas's phrase resonated in his mind: "I usually compete in strength".

  He needed a pure duel, without advantages or differences in discipline.

  —Zael Bolta challenges Silas to a duel! —he proclaimed.

  Silas had the option to refuse, but his response took everyone, especially Zael, by surprise.

  —I accept the duel —said Silas, his voice clear and firm—. But it will be a physical test. Race.

  Zael looked at him strangely. He had just beaten him. It was an illogical rematch.

  —Zael, before I didn't give everything I had because I was thinking about other things —explained Silas with renewed confidence, while the bracelet on his wrist began to glow with the light of Ether—. Now, let's go all out.

  —Let's go all out, then —responded Zael, understanding immediately. His own bracelet lit up in response.

  After informing the judge, the race with Ether use was accepted. ?I don't know if I can beat him, but I am already tired of fighting. Just for this once, I want to have fun?, thought Silas. The previous defeat had left him with a bitter taste, and the idea of a rematch attracted him much more than a strength combat, where he knew he had more chances to win. That sounded too calculating, too much like Joseph.

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  Zael flashed a smile, an expression that anticipated the chaos about to be unleashed.

  Both positioned themselves. Silas absorbed all the primordial energy he could, preparing to channel Cognis. He had already discarded the idea that it was illegal; if the academy's strongest warrior was also a Scholar, the rules weren't so simple. He accelerated his thoughts, sending impulses to his nerves at superhuman speed. His body, crouched at the starting line, looked like a bomb about to explode.

  —On your marks! Get set! GO!

  It was as if two smoke bombs had detonated at the starting line. The race ended in a couple of seconds, but for the runners, it was a combat of several rounds. Silas took the lead with a perfect start, his initial strides already at maximum speed. Zael came out second, but as the meters fell behind, Silas's lead reduced. Zael's acceleration capacity was extraordinary; he was a predator with atrocious hunger chasing his prey. It seemed that at any moment his body would transform into a cheetah and start running on all fours.

  Halfway through the race, they were already head-to-head. Little by little, Zael began to gain centimeters of advantage, until surpassing him by a whole body length. Zael looked at Silas as he overtook him, but what he saw was not the face of someone who was losing. He saw the face of another beast: not a cheetah, but a tiger, patiently waiting for the exact moment to deliver the deadly strike.

  Silas, accustomed to channeling five percent of a recruit's Ether without pain, now forced his body to the limit of a first corporal. ?I feel as if my body is burning, but I can't lower the intensity. Not yet?.

  Less than ten meters remained. ?It was a spectacular race. He wasn't lying when he said he hadn't given his maximum?, thought Zael, already savoring victory.

  But upon looking to the side, he saw the impossible. Out of nowhere, after a blinding pulse of Ether that almost reached the level of a sergeant, Silas had gained a body length's advantage over him. He crossed the finish line before him, but in a completely unorthodox posture: he had lunged forward as if feigning a thrust with a sword.

  It was all over. The dust settled, revealing Silas half-kneeling, breathing with difficulty as if a bucket of freezing water had been thrown over him. But the scoreboard was unequivocal: he was the winner. His risky plan, calculated with Cognis to deliver that pulse of Ether at the exact stride, had worked.

  —Ha, ha, ha! But what the hell was that! —exclaimed Zael, more joyful than defeated—. I crossed the finish line, but you literally murdered it!

  —You realized, huh? —said Silas, catching his breath.

  —Barely. It was risky. If you had made that thrust a meter earlier, you would have fallen short, with no possibility of repeating such a fast impulse.

  —Sure, but I had to try, right? Ha, ha! —laughed Silas, a genuine laugh he hadn't felt in weeks, consumed by his goals and dangers.

  —I'll give you my medals, I'm tired of running —said Zael—. But so far, we both have one victory and one defeat. How about we race again in the future?

  —Of course —responded Silas with a big smile.

  The rules for a combat like Joseph and Zenit's were clear: the use of ether was not only permitted but expected of all participants. The only choice that fell upon the challenged was whether the contest would be with or without weapons. In case of choosing them, they would be made of wood, but fortified by molders to simulate the weight of a real weapon with hardness inferior to iron, guaranteeing safety in the duel. Furthermore, it was strictly forbidden to perform attacks with the intention to kill or seriously injure, such as blows to the head with a weapon.

  The available arsenal included swords, shields, daggers, staffs, and maces. However, Zenit scanned the options with a searching expression on his face. ?There has to be something similar to combat gauntlets?, he thought. He was looking for a distinctive weapon of the Lugal house, designed for his fighting style: the "Claws of Nemea", gloves heavily reinforced at the joints that gave enough stability for each finger to behave like a dagger. Determined to recover his pride, Zenit wanted to demonstrate his technical prowess, but the closest thing he found were simple gloves with reinforced knuckles. ?They won't last me more than a couple of blows?, he lamented. Finally, he opted for two short daggers, the least bad option.

  For masters of the Nemea style, gauntlets were almost an aesthetic adornment; training and strengthening the hand with ether made them unnecessary. For a novice, however, they were a requirement. For his part, Joseph's choice was quick and decisive: a staff. The conditions for victory were basic: being thrown out of the combat area or being knocked out meant defeat.

  Zenit's discomfort with the daggers was palpable, in stark contrast to Joseph's calm, who held his staff in a horizontal position in front of his body. His stance was defensive, almost a low thrust, with the rear leg semi-flexed and knee about to touch the ground. Zenit, on the other hand, adopted a more compact guard, with both daggers forming an X.

  Upon noticing the start signal, Zenit lunged instantly. He launched a descending diagonal cut with his right hand while keeping his left in guard. Joseph blocked the attack with the staff and, with a quick wrist turn, aimed the tip of the weapon toward the second dagger. Zenit withdrew it just in time, using the momentum to spin around and return to the offensive with a double cut: right descending, left ascending.

  Joseph intercepted the assault with the staff, but the moment Zenit infused ether into his arms to try to break the wood, Joseph released the weapon. The staff spun 180 degrees on its axis, and Joseph caught it again to counteract the force of the impact. The block caused Zenit's daggers to open, leaving his front exposed. Joseph seized the opportunity and unloaded a reinforced blow on his opponent's right shoulder.

  Like a wounded beast, Zenit retreated a few steps, moving his shoulder with a slight grimace of pain, but sure that the damage wasn't serious. Joseph, impassive, remained in his original position. Zenit changed his grip on the daggers to a reverse one, with the tips pointing down, and resumed the attack. His blows flowed in an undulating movement, seeking to hook Joseph's staff and disarm him. But Joseph was a wall: blocking some blows and dodging others with precision.

  At one moment, Zenit raised both daggers in a double vertical attack gesture. Joseph raised his staff to block it, but out of nowhere felt a sharp blow on his left shoulder. In mid-air, Zenit had changed the grip of his right dagger, using the left to lower the staff and the right to strike Joseph, modifying his attack range in a fraction of a second. Surprised, Joseph retreated a few steps, as did Zenit.

  Although the blow took him by surprise, Joseph's expression denoted that he had also foreseen it. He changed his stance to a more open and aggressive one. Zenit noticed the change in atmosphere and prepared himself. Joseph began to advance with wide strides, attacking with the staff gripped in both hands. His blows did not aim at vital points; they were forceful and rhythmic, emulating the unstoppable march of a locomotive.

  ?What is this feeling??, thought Zenit just before Joseph changed his grip again. Holding the staff by one end with both hands, he unleashed a vertical blow of astonishing speed. Zenit stopped it with a double block, but the power of the impact was so overwhelming that he couldn't stop Joseph's march, who pushed him until leaving him out of the combat area.

  —Winner: Recruit Joseph —announced the referee.

  In Zenit's mind, the possibility of having lost did not fit. He searched for an answer desperately, until something in the final attack caught his attention. A blow of such reach and magnitude... He hadn't recognized it due to the difference in weapons, but it was a technique he had been shown once, executed with a weapon similar to a staff but separated into three sections by chains.

  A memory surfaced in his mind. —Do you know the difference between a king and an emperor? —Namir Lugal had asked him. —Power. —Exactly. It is said that the lion is the king, unbeatable for his killing instinct. But there is only one way to counteract the Nemea style: with the power of an emperor. There is a style that simulates the strength of the emperor of the jungle. While in a fight to the death it wouldn't win, its power should not be underestimated. —And who is that emperor? —asked young Zenit. —The elephant —replied Namir.

  Everything added up. Joseph's style was an adaptation of that same defense, but with a staff. That's why he hadn't recognized it: the weapon's lack of versatility hid the essence of the technique.

  ?Well, I'll have to train more so as not to depend on these silly daggers?, thought Zenit, blaming himself illusively for his defeat.

  But it had all been planned. Joseph had studied Zenit's style and knew how to counteract it. His strategy would not work, however, if his rival executed the techniques perfectly with his preferred weapons. Therefore, using his influence on the organizing committee, Joseph suggested other gauntlet models that, although similar, did not fulfill the same function as the Claws of Nemea. From there, it was only a matter of time to corner Zenit and expel him from the area, since knocking him out would be impossible. He had even made arrangements in his suit to channel ether and win any strength test. If the combat had been bare-handed, the result might have varied, although Joseph also had a plan for that scenario.

  The image of the duel between the Jarn twins was brutally different. Marco, with a face transfigured by a combative ecstasy, hammered mercilessly on his sister's shield. The excessive force he channeled turned every impact into an explosion that made the air vibrate. Jazmín defended herself with difficulty, ceding ground with every blow. It was an unequal fight, a storm of steel that threatened to crush her. But in her eyes, there was no fear, but a defiant fire. It was not the look of someone about to surrender, but that of a warrior willing to forge her victory over the impossible.