The first match began with a roar.

Steel clashed against water-veiled talons as Reeve's Ironfang Lizard spiraled into a low stance, jaws dripping sparks. Fenn countered with a twin-bonded Mist Viper, her technique focused more on evasion than strength. The dome shimmered with containment runes, shielding the watching students from stray impact. Instructors stood at all corners, eyes alert.

Fenn's viper slithered in a blur, weaving arcs of mist to obscure its trail. But Reeve pressed through, commanding a brute-force charge. The moment came—one feint too bold—and the Mist Viper was pinned under the lizard's weight, a soft pulse from the dome confirming submission.

"Match: Reeve," one of the assistant monitors called.

Applause followed, but only from Reeve's friends.

Next was Hollard versus Saeko.

Their match was a dance of precision. Hollard's Magmaroot Tuskbeast stomped with elemental fury, but Saeko's Wind Quill Crane dodged with a grace that barely disturbed the sand floor. She waited—not for a mistake, but for rhythm. And when the pattern faltered, she struck.

A single piercing shriek, one flash of wind-cut feathers—and Hollard was disarmed.

"Match: Saeko."

Aston stood near the edge, quiet, arms folded. He wasn't nervous. Just still. Gray sat on his shoulder, tail slowly twitching. Mirage circled quietly above the combat ring's rafters, invisible to all but Aston's sharpened perception.

Across the dome, Mavrek Donnell rolled his shoulders.

"Well, would you look at that," he said loudly enough to draw attention. "Looks like my opponent's still dry."

No one answered, but he grinned wider. "You sure you're up for this, 'red tag'? I'd hate to send you back to the infirmary."

A few scattered snickers.

Aston didn't glance over.

Mavrek clicked his tongue. "C'mon, don't be shy. Or did you forget how to talk now that you're officially 'red'?"

From the sidelines, Rowan muttered, "Guy's mouth is bigger than his beast."

Seria's gaze never left Aston. Her expression unreadable.

A new match began—two second-years clashing with high-speed movement and aura collisions. The crowd gave more attention to that than Mavrek's bravado. Still, the taunts lingered like fog.

Aston adjusted his gloves with a quiet breath. His muscles didn't tense. He didn't psych himself up. There was no need. He'd fought tougher opponents with more dangerous eyes than Mavrek's.

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What mattered now wasn't dominance.

It was demonstration.

Another match ended. Cheers broke out. A new pair was called.

And then:

"Rhyner versus Donnell."

The murmurs hushed.

Aston stepped forward, quiet as snowfall. Mavrek followed with a swagger in his step and a grin that said this was going to be fun—for him.

They entered opposite ends of the arena.

Instructor Tull raised his voice, loud and even.

"Standard format. One beast. One tamer. Combat ends on surrender or incapacitation of either tamer or beast. First sign of excess damage, the match stops. No exceptions."

Both nodded.

"Spirit beasts registered. Begin on my mark."

The arena pulsed with golden light, resetting the environment—a flat battlefield, dotted with faint rubble markers and elevation shifts no more than a foot high.

Mavrek stretched his neck with a satisfying crack.

"I'm gonna flatten you, red boy."

Aston didn't answer.

Instructor Tull lifted a hand. "Ready..."

Mavrek's beast went forward—a Stonetail Brutewolf, massive and armored in layered gray hide. It pawed the ground, snarling.

Aston simply whispered, "Mirage."

The owl flew from one of the columns towards Aston's shoulder. Light refracted from her feathers like a prism.

Instructor Tull's hand cut the air.

"Begin!"

The dome pulsed with silver light. All sound dulled for half a second—then erupted.

Mavrek's Brutewolf charged forward like a boulder given legs. It wasn't fast, but it didn't need to be. Its momentum was mass. Its roar tore through the dome, teeth glinting, claws cracking against the ring floor with every step.

Mirage didn't flinch.

She launched upward, a glimmering streak of color as sunlight hit her wings. Each beat refracted rainbow arcs—distracting, beautiful.

But Mavrek sneered. "Keep your eyes on the ground, idiot. Brutewolf—zone two! Leap and crush!"

The beast did exactly that. With terrifying strength, it propelled itself upward and twisted mid-air, aiming to land right where Aston stood.

Aston didn't move.

"Glass Cloak: Rainbow Flare," he whispered.

Mirage beat her wings.

The dome lit up with a sudden prism burst—an explosion of shifting light and spectral hues that danced like living glass. The Brutewolf blinked—just once—but that was enough.

The landing missed.

Instead of a full-body slam, it struck the ground just a meter off-target. The dome trembled. Debris cracked under the impact.

But Aston was already gone.

It was during his time training with Mirage that Aston discovered an application of her innate skill. Although Glass Cloak makes her near invisible, if tilting in a certain angle from a light source, in this case the sun, it can create a burst of prismatic light—similar to a prism when it can be see-through at one angle, and split light into a rainbow on another.

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