Avin sat still for a long time, staring at the paper that wasn't there anymore.The air around him buzzed faintly from the sudden silence after the bell — a single, echoing chime that rippled across the hall like the toll of fate. Every quill froze mid-scratch. Every pen stopped moving.And then, as if they had never existed, everything vanished.

The papers dissolved into motes of light. The pens followed. Desks that had felt so solid a second ago faded into the air, leaving only stunned students gripping their knees and staring at empty space.

But nobody dared to move.

Even with the test over, not one of them wanted to risk being the next person removed for breaking a rule. The air was thick with collective tension — a silence so sharp it hurt.

The figure at the front — the examiner — stood slowly, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves. His chair scraped softly against the floor."We are done here," he said simply, his voice carrying effortlessly through the hall. "Good luck with the rest."

And then it happened again.A voice that wasn't a voice — deep, deliberate, echoing directly inside Avin's skull.

"Make sure you pass the other exams… if you care about the truth."

Avin's head shot up. The examiner hadn't moved his lips. He was just standing there, eyes locked onto Avin's, calm and expressionless. But the message was clear.It wasn't a threat. It was a promise.

Avin swallowed hard and gave a small, uncertain nod. The examiner gave no sign of acknowledgment — and then, with a sharp snap of his fingers, the world shifted.

The entire hall blinked out of existence.In a single breath, the floor, walls, and ceiling melted away, replaced by open air and sunlight.

Avin blinked several times, his eyes adjusting to the brilliance of day. The crowd around him murmured softly, no longer startled by the sudden change. This was the third — maybe fourth — time they had been teleported without warning. At this point, surprise was a luxury no one could afford.

The ground beneath them was soft, warm — sand. Pale, golden grains stretching out in a wide circular arena nearly three hundred meters across. Around the circle rose smooth stone walls, towering at least fifteen meters high.

Avin turned slowly, taking in the structure. The upper perimeter of the walls was ringed with rows upon rows of seats — hundreds, maybe thousands — like an ancient coliseum resurrected from forgotten times. The architecture was massive, yet perfectly symmetrical.

Four enormous gates marked the cardinal directions of the wall — north, east, south, and west — each wide enough for an army to march through.

But what caught Avin's attention most was the lower platform.At the southern arc of the coliseum was a section separated from the rest — an elevated dais filled with ornate, oversized seats. Their carved golden edges glimmered even under the muted light. This was no ordinary audience space. This was where the elite would sit — the examiners, the royals, and whoever else thought themselves fit to watch others bleed.

A faint chill crawled down Avin's spine.He knew exactly what this was.

A battle arena.The final phase.The physical test.

He wasn't the only one who realized it.All around, students were shifting — some cracking their necks, some stretching with grins of anticipation. A few clasped hands, muttering short prayers to gods Avin had never heard of.

Some looked calm — too calm — like people who had been training for this moment their entire lives. Their bodies were sculpted for war, their stares sharp enough to cut. Others were smaller, leaner, the kind whose confidence came not from strength but from speed. Avin could tell — they had all been forged differently, but they shared one thing in common: none of them looked afraid.

He did.

Avin swallowed hard and tried to breathe normally, scanning faces for someone — anyone — he could stand a chance against. But his stomach twisted when his eyes stopped on a familiar silhouette across the arena.

Red hair.

Even from here, he'd recognize it anywhere.His sister.

She stood among a small group of others, speaking casually, her expression unreadable. The sun caught the crimson in her hair and turned it into liquid flame. Avin's jaw tightened.

For a long moment, he couldn't tear his eyes away. His blood boiled with the memory — the taste of metal and poison still fresh in his throat. He could still feel the pain of his body shutting down, the betrayal that had cut deeper than any wound.

He hadn't even realized how long he'd been staring until one of the girls standing beside her noticed. Her face twisted with disgust and she whispered something into his sister's ear.

Avin's heart skipped when her head turned toward him.And then — she smiled.

That same grin. That wicked, knowing grin.And she waved.

Avin snapped his head away instantly, pretending to look elsewhere. His chest tightened, his pulse jumping like a snare drum. He hated that she could still unnerve him so easily.

"Hello," a voice said softly.

His blood ran cold.

That voice.It was behind him.

He froze. He didn't want to believe it.But the voice came again, closer this time — "Hello."

He turned his head slightly, praying he was wrong — but she was there.Standing right beside him.

"But… you were—" he stammered, glancing back toward where she had been.The spot across the arena was empty. The group she'd been with was still there, but she was gone.

He felt a light tap on his shoulder.He turned back around, and there she was — smiling, calm, her crimson eyes carrying that same quiet danger.

"I said hello."

Avin stared at her blankly, jaw tight. He didn't reply. He wanted his silence to speak for him — to make it clear that she wasn't welcome here, that he hadn't forgiven or forgotten.

She tilted her head, her expression softening. "You're still upset?" she asked quietly, though her tone was almost playful.Avin said nothing.

"It's because of the poison thing, isn't it?"

Still no response. His silence was answer enough.

She sighed and shook her head, almost disappointed. "I said I'm sorry," she murmured.

He wanted to scream. To tell her exactly what he thought of that apology.But the words died in his throat before he could even form them — as if something inside him refused to let them out.It wasn't just hesitation. It was resistance.A strange, heavy pressure in his chest — like his body itself was warning him not to speak.

Her lips curved into a faint smile. "I'll see you soon, brother," she whispered.

And with that, she turned and began walking away, her red hair flowing behind her like silk caught in the wind.

Avin stared at her back, his knuckles white around the hilt of his sword.He didn't even realize his jaw was clenched until the voice thundered above them all.

"Attention!"

The sound shook the very ground.Everyone froze — heads tilting upward in unison.

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