While in prison, Boyed had told Soren that the Soulforge Academy was an unforgiving place.

But it had barely been an hour from the northern gates to the main campus, and so much had happened.

While Goldsworth was an annoying person that always searched for the opportunity to pick on those he considered lesser than him, it was not nice to see him broken on the ground like that.

But wait, he destroyed Pencil's cake.

Soren felt conflicted. On one hand, he believed he deserved it, and on the other hand, maybe it was a bit too much.

Just then, Goldsworth stood up... fuming.

His gaze was red with rage—so intense he looked like he would rip Soren apart with his eyes if he could.

"Soren," he called through gritted teeth. "I challenge you by the Gauntlet. Three days from now."

After which he turned and stormed away.

The crowd whispered as they dispersed in different directions.

A few instructors in the far back looked at one another.

A female instructor with a black veil over her red tunic looked his way. "An Ivory always remembers their debt." She muttered, staring at Soren venomously.

But at another corner, a skinny student with silver hair smiled, eyes glowing.

Soren stood speechless. "Urh... what just happened?" He massaged his head. "And what the hell is Gauntlet?"

He turned to Bloodshine and Pencil.

Pencil face-palmed. But Bloodshine excitedly explained what it was.

The Imperial Soulforge Academy trained its cadets to become knights of the empire.

As such, it embraced culture—the old way.

It was popularly known as throwing the gauntlet.

Records have it that it was a medieval method used by knights to formally issue a challenge to combat or a duel.

When a knight wanted to settle a dispute or challenge another's honor, he would throw his gauntlet—a heavy, metal-plated glove that was part of his suit of armor—onto the ground at the opponent's feet.

While the heavy armor of old was no longer needed in modern-day combat, the tradition had lived on.

However, here in the academy, there were special conditions guiding it.

Soren tried to wrap his head around the concept.

At such a time, Pencil spoke. "That reminds me. Tommy has a Gauntlet match today. Let's go and watch. You'll understand better then."

Pencil gestured forward, and the four of them began walking.

The deeper they went into the academy grounds, the more Soren felt like he'd stepped into another world.

The main pathways were wide and paved with smooth, dark stone veined with faintly glowing aether lines.

No... Soren looked closer. As one that had once been in a cockpit, he recognized it.

Neuralink.

At least he believed it was.

All over the school.

They pulsed slowly, like the place itself was breathing.

Tall structures rose on either side—massive buildings of pale steel and polished stone that had edges curved instead of sharp and were elegant instead of harsh.

Floating platforms drifted lazily between some of them, carrying cadets from one level to another without rails or cables, powered by soft-blue aether thrusters that hummed quietly as they passed.

There were some towers shaped like spears piercing the sky, domed halls with translucent roofs that shimmered like glass, and long bridges suspended between buildings with nothing but glowing webbed-line lattices beneath them.

Everywhere Soren looked, he saw motion—doors sliding open without a sound, holographic signs flickering to life as students approached, and small mechanical constructs scuttling across the ground to deliver messages or equipment.

It was just like the train, but much, much bigger.

And yet… the place didn't feel cold.

They were courtyards with trees growing from carefully carved soil beds. Fountains where water flowed in looping patterns, guided by invisible aether currents.

It felt ancient and modern at the same time—like an empire that had never let go of tradition, only built technology on top of it.

Cynthia walked close beside Soren. She could not stop herself from pointing from time to time.

Soren was no different. Both of them like villagers that just walked into the big city.

While pencil found it embarrassing, he had been like that the first time he came to this place too.

As they passed a cluster of cadets, a few of them stopped talking.

Some stared.

Some frowned.

A couple leaned toward each other and muttered just loud enough to be heard.

"Clowns."

Soren slowed a step, blinking. "Huh?" He looked at Pencil. "Why does everybody keep calling us clowns? It's not like we're wearing makeup and red noses."

Pencil rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, the thing is that its not just the two of you.

Its also me?"

Soren raised a brow.

"I'll explain in a minute," he said quietly. "Its also the reason we are here. Just… look first."

They turned a corner, and the space suddenly opened up.

Soren stopped in his tracks.

Before them was an arena.

Not a small one.

It was a massive, circular coliseum carved into the ground, with tiered stone seating that descended toward a wide, flat combat floor. Aether lights were embedded into the walls, casting a soft glow that made the entire place feel alive. High above, a transparent dome arched over the arena, faint energy currents rippling across it like slow-moving clouds.

Cadets filled the stands in scattered clusters—some standing, some sitting, some leaning against the rails. The air buzzed with low chatter and anticipation.

Pencil pointed downward. "There."

Soren followed his gaze.

In the center of the arena stood a familiar figure.

Even from this distance, he recognized that shining bald head instantly.

"…Tommy," Soren muttered.

Tommy stood on the combat floor, feet planted wide, fists clenched at his sides. His Glassheart glowed faintly near his hip in a purple light.

He was dressed in cadet white like Pencil.

Opposite him was a girl.

She was tall and lean, her stance calm and balanced. In her hands was a long staff—dark metal wrapped with glowing aether rings that rotated slowly around it. Her eyes were sharp, focused entirely on Tommy, and the air around her seemed to hum with restrained power.

Then Pencil spoke up. "This is a Gauntlet match. And right now, Tommy is fighting to shed the title of Clown."

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