The roll call continued, but the names were nothing more than white noise lost to the wind.
I was frozen. My breath hitched in my throat, trapped by a sensation I had never experienced—a cold, paralyzing weight that felt heavier than any physical strike.
Tsume didn't turn back toward the podium to face his father. He stayed exactly where he was, looming in my personal space and letting the realization crush me. His pale, white eye practically gleamed with predatory amusement, and his grin grew so wide it felt like it was piercing right through my soul.
"What's wrong, Ryomen?" he whispered, his voice slicing through the chatter of the crowd. "Scared that you're going to get expelled before we even see the horizon?"
He scoffed, the sound sharp and mocking.
"Relax," he said, his eyes flicking momentarily toward the podium before locking back onto mine. "Don't worry. That old bastard up there wouldn't lift a finger for me even if my life were on the line. If I'm going to break you, I'll have to do it myself."
"Remember, Ryomen. On this ship, I'm the law."
Tsume spread his arms, tilting his head back to let the salty ocean wind catch his hair. It wasn't a comical pose; it was theatrical and utterly arrogant. He looked like a king admiring his newly conquered territory. "And I will be the greatest Elemental Swordsman this world has ever seen."
Before I could respond, the sharp screech of the loudspeaker cut through the tension. Roll call was over.
We both turned our attention back to the towering steel podium. Kyo Harasayuki clasped his hands together, his glamorous, gleaming eyes scanning the sea of teenagers.
"Thank you to all the recruits who courageously left their sanctuaries to join us!" Kyo announced, his voice booming with polite, infectious warmth. "We are here to help you earn your licenses. To help those with dormant cores finally awaken their Boru. To perfect your universal techniques. We are here to forge the next generation of Swordsmen!"
He smiled. It was a wide, picture-perfect grin.
Then, the warmth vanished.
"However," Kyo said, his voice dropping into a dangerously cold register that sent a chill down my spine. "Let me make one thing clear. Bloodlines, names, and past achievements mean absolutely nothing on this boat."
The massive deck went dead silent.
"If you cannot survive the next three days, you will not see the Academy," Kyo continued, his tone cutting like a blade. "This ship is your first trial. The buffet dinner in the Main Hall opens shortly. But... only the first two hundred recruits to complete three hundred laps around the upper deck will be allowed to eat. The rest of you will starve for the night. Begin."
Panic erupted.
In the blink of an eye, the elite recruits vanished. Sparks of crimson fire scorched the steel deck as students used their Boru to launch themselves forward like rockets. Gusts of unnatural wind shattered the mist as they broke the sound barrier, leaving nothing but dust and displaced air in their wake.
Tsume smirked, his pale white eye flashing one last time in my direction.
"Seems this is where I leave you, dead weight. Try not to pass out. I'll leave you some steak though!"
He didn't burst into flames or summon a gale, but Tsume pivoted and launched into a sprint. His pace was terrifyingly fast, maintaining a flawless physical rhythm that quickly closed the gap with the magic users.
I didn't sprint.
As the stampede of recruits tore across the steel deck, I stood perfectly still for a fraction of a second. I closed my eyes, visualizing the quiet courtyard back home, and inhaled a deep, measured breath. Two seconds in. Two seconds out. By the time I started jogging, I was dead last.
The upper deck of the ship was a massive oval track. For the first fifty laps, I was the punchline of a joke. Recruits lapped me constantly. A boy surfing on a slick of condensed water shot past me, laughing.
A girl propelling herself with minor explosions of fire practically blew my hair back as she passed.
"Go faster, royalty!" someone mocked from ahead.
I didn't respond. I kept my breathing steady, my posture perfectly aligned, and my footfalls light. My grandfather had once forced me to run up mountain stairs with boulders strapped to my back. Compared to that, the flat steel of this ship felt like running on clouds.
By lap one hundred and fifty, the laughter died.
The air on the deck no longer smelled like the sharp ozone of magic; it smelled like sweat, vomit, and desperation. The fatal flaw in their arrogance was finally showing. I realized something—Boru isn't an infinite battery—it drains the spirit just as much as the body. It requires absolute spiritual balance, and these kids were running on nothing but ego.
The girl who had been using fire explosions was now slumped against the steel railing, gasping for air, her flames reduced to pathetic, sputtering sparks. The boy surfing on water had collapsed entirely, his legs cramping violently from the sheer physical backlash of overusing his core.
I kept my pace. Two seconds in. Two seconds out. I wasn't running fast, but I wasn't slowing down, either. My body operated like a flawless metronome. I passed the collapsed fire girl. I stepped right over the water boy. One by one, I began overtaking the "prodigies." Their raw magic had given them an explosive start, but without the spiritual and physical foundation to back it up, their bodies were breaking down under the strain of their own power.
By lap two hundred and ninety, my lungs burned. My legs felt like lead. Even with my training, three hundred laps was a brutal distance, but I couldn't let it show on my face. I was currently hovering safely within the top two hundred.
Just ahead of me, a recruit with messy brown hair was stumbling, his face pale. I recognized him—he was one of the kids who had laughed at me on the gangplank. He was running out of steam, terrified of losing his meal.
As I moved to pass him on the left, panic flared in his eyes. He wasn't going to let the "dead weight" beat him.
He threw a desperate, sloppy hand backward. A jagged spike of earth ripped out from the thin layer of dirt on the track, aiming straight for my shins to snap my legs.
My instincts took over. I didn't even break my stride. I shifted my weight, utilizing the footwork of Sorasu. My wooden sword flashed from my side, snapping down onto the earthen spike. The wood didn't shatter—it redirected the force perfectly. The spike crumbled into useless dust.
I blew past him, leaving him stumbling in my wake.
When I finally crossed the invisible finish line marked by the instructors, my chest was heaving, and my uniform was soaked in sweat. But I was still standing.
"Ryomen," an instructor holding a clipboard called out, not even looking up. "Position: One hundred and forty-two. Proceed to the Main Hall."
I let out a long, shaky exhale, resting my hands on my knees for just a moment before standing straight up. The trial was over. Now, my stomach was doing the talking.
Inside the Main Hall, the atmosphere was a chaotic mix of exhausted groans and the clattering of silverware. I grabbed a tray and scanned the massive buffet. My body ached, demanding calories, but nothing piqued my interest until I saw it.
The steam rising from a massive steel pot. The rich, savory aroma of perfectly seasoned broth. The beautiful, golden tangle of noodles.
Ramen. My eyes lit up. I practically sprinted to the stand, sliding my tray onto the metal counter.
"Twenty bowls of ramen, please, Ramen Sensei!" I said, sweat still dripping from my chin onto the counter.
The massive, scarred cook behind the counter paused, blinked at my order, and then let out a booming laugh, flashing me a thumbs-up. "Coming right up, kid. You earned it."
I stood there, shifting my weight anxiously from foot to foot, getting hungrier by the second as Ramen Sensei began rapidly filling bowls.
Poke. A blunt object jabbed firmly into my ribs.
I blinked, turning around. The students around me had been keeping their distance ever since the roll call, treating me like a ticking time bomb. But the person standing behind me right now didn't look scared at all.
"Hey," a bright, upbeat voice chimed, coming from slightly below my eye level. "Are you that Ryomen kid everyone's whispering about?"
I looked down. Standing there, holding an empty tray and wearing a grin that completely lacked Tsume's arrogance, was my first real surprise of the day.
"Yes," I said, cautiously tightening my grip on my tray. "Yes, I am."