The training grounds of the Floating Academy stretched over a vast floating platform suspended beside the main campus.
A wide expanse of polished stone, marked with sparring circles, weapon racks, arcane barriers, and a towering arena.
The air shimmered softly with active mana-wards.
Students gathered in clusters, excited and nervous, chattering about what the class might hold.
But when Sora stepped onto the platform—
The entire atmosphere shifted.
Silence rippled outward like the wake of a falling stone.
Every student turned.
Every whisper cut off.
Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
Sora ignored all of it, eyes half-lidded as he surveyed the grounds.
Huh. Not bad.
Wide space.
Open air.
Strong wards.
He'd trained in better, but it was decent.
A tall, broad-shouldered man strode out of the shadows of the arena entrance.
Halden wore a dark training uniform reinforced with battle-thread cloth, his hair tied back, eyes sharp and experienced.
He was a real fighter.
Not a scholar.
Not a noble.
A warrior.
"Welcome back, first-years," he said, voice booming like a war drum. "I was told we have a… special addition today."
His gaze locked onto Sora.
A long pause.
Halden bowed his head, only slightly, more a gesture of respect from one warrior to another.
"Your Highness."
Murmurs burst behind Sora, quickly silenced by Halden's raised hand.
"Royalty or not, in this class, every student trains. Every student bleeds. Every student learns. Strength is the only rule here."
He swept his gaze across the class.
"I will not coddle you. If you fall behind, I will drag you back to your feet myself."
He fixed his eyes on Sora again.
"And that includes you, Highness."
A collective gasp.
Sora?
He lifted one shoulder in a small shrug.
"Sure."
Halden nodded once, satisfied.
"Line up," Halden ordered.
The students formed rows.
Sora drifted into place at the edge of the group.
Halden paced in front of them.
"This is your first true assessment. Today I measure your basic instincts — your reaction, your grounding, your mana alignment, and your combat sense. No spells. No artifacts. Just yourselves."
He raised a hand.
A dull thump echoed through the platform as the arena wards shifted, forming a shimmering barrier over the training field.
"First test— Reflex and awareness."
He snapped his fingers.
Small metal spheres shot from the ground, firing toward random students with sharp precision.
Thunk—thunk—thunk!
Students shrieked or stumbled as they blocked, dodged, or got hit in the chest.
One boy fell backward with a wheeze.
Another girl managed to dodge three spheres before taking one to the shoulder.
Then. A sphere shot toward Sora.
Fast.
Precise.
Unexpected angle.
Designed to catch even trained fighters.
Sora didn't move his head.
He didn't shift his stance.
He didn't look at the sphere.
His hand simply came up and caught it between two fingers.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Halden's eyes narrowed with interest.
He fired another.
Sora caught it.
Then another.
Caught.
Then five at once.
Sora flicked his wrist, tapping each one away with effortless accuracy.
He wasn't reacting.
He was predicting.
He wasn't bracing.
He was relaxed.
His instincts weren't trained — they were instinctive, animalistic, preternatural.
Halden exhaled slowly.
"…Interesting."
Students exchanged terrified looks.
Halden lifted his arm and the ground beneath them began to shift — tiles rising, falling, rotating like a puzzle coming to life.
"Maintain your balance!" Halden roared. "No mana. Just instinct!"
Tiles tilted sharply.
Students yelped, sliding or falling.
Sora did nothing.
He stood perfectly still… while the tiles beneath him shifted like water.
His feet always landed on the next moving tile, steps light, precise, and unconcerned.
He wasn't reacting at all.
He moved as though the shifting floor was predictable — like he already knew the pattern.
Halden watched him with narrowing eyes.
What is this boy?
The shifting floor stilled.
"Next," Halden said, "light sparring. I need to gauge your foundations. Come forward in pairs."
Students stepped forward in nervous pairs — mostly awkward, hesitant exchanges of punches, kicks, and clumsy footwork.
Halden corrected them. Encouraged them. Critiqued harshly where needed.
Sora waited at the back, expression passive.
Until—
"Prince Sora."
An arrogant voice cut across the arena.
"Oh, great," Sora muttered internally.
A tall noble boy stepped forward, his uniform pristine, golden hair meticulously styled, arrogance dripping from his every movement.
His friends smirked behind him.
"You're next, Highness," he said loudly. "If you're not afraid."
Halden's eyes narrowed.
"Aric Dawncrest," he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "You will spar when I assign you—"
"Oh come now, Instructor," Aric said with a mocking grin. "Surely the prince isn't delicate? Unless he's all title and no talent."
Gasps.
Students froze.
Halden glared. "Aric—"
Sora stepped forward before Halden finished.
"Fine."
Aric smirked victoriously.
They entered the sparring circle.
Aric cracked his knuckles, mana flickering behind his eyes before Halden barked:
"No mana. If I sense even a thread, you will be spending the next six weeks running laps."
Aric clicked his tongue but nodded.
He lowered into a stance.
Sora?
He just stood there.
Hands in pockets.
Aric scoffed loudly.
"Are you serious—?"
He lunged.
Fast.
Confident.
Perfectly executed noble-family combat form.
His fist shot toward Sora's jaw.
And—
Sora tilted his head three millimeters.
The punch whistled past.
Aric blinked.
He swung again.
Again the fist passed through empty space.
"So slow," Sora murmured.
Aric snarled.
He attacked in a flurry — fists, kicks, pivots, feints. Each executed perfectly.
Each dodged effortlessly.
Sora didn't even take his hands out of his pockets.
Every movement he made was minimal — a shift, a lean, a step, a breath — perfectly timed, unnaturally calm.
Aric grew more desperate.
Sweat formed.
His breathing hitched.
He yelled and threw a final punch with all his weight—
Sora stepped in—
And tapped Aric's wrist with a single finger.
The shock sent Aric stumbling as his balance shattered.
Then Sora flicked his leg lightly.
Aric collapsed to the ground, rolling across the stone before stopping at Halden's feet.
Silence.
Then—
Halden exhaled slowly.
Deeply.
Shakily.
"…I see."
Whispers exploded across the arena.
"What was that!?"
"He didn't even move!"
"Was that even human!?"
Aric lay on the ground, dazed, humiliated, unable to process how he'd been dismantled like a toddler learning to walk.
Sora turned away.
"Are we done?"
Halden closed his eyes and nodded once.
"Yes, Your Highness."
The class was dismissed early.
Students scattered — not running, but retreating, eyes wide with awe and fear.
Aric's friends avoided Sora like he was a plague.
Halden approached him slowly.
"Your Highness," he said quietly, voice low enough that only Sora heard, "If you ever choose to train seriously… let me know."
Sora blinked.
"…Okay."
Halden bowed his head once.
Sora left the arena calmly, hands still in his pockets.
Inside?
He was thinking one thing, and one thing only:
Combat class wasn't so boring after all.
...
A pair of familiar eyes eyed Sora curiously from above.
"Interesting..."