Morning arrived with rhythm instead of silence.
Hover-trams glided along the silver rails toward the Combat & Training Bureau, their magnetic hum blending with the pulse of Gaelion’s twin suns rising above the canyon ridges.

Through the glass tunnel, Semesta’s western district unfolded—a maze of metallic towers, every rooftop lined with kinetic mirrors catching morning light.

Inside one of the trams, first-year students filled the rows, their chatter laced with awe and nerves.

“They say the senior division trains with live resonance storms,” Zachary whispered. “Like—real lightning in their domes!”

Jenny smiled faintly. “Then we’d better watch carefully today.”

Across from them, Aru Aryan leaned back confidently, arms folded.
Kaito Ishida sat near the window, silent, eyes fixed on the distant domes ahead.

The tram curved and slowed. Ahead, colossal arches rose—each carved with the names of legendary graduates, etched in flowing light.

Jenny whispered, almost to herself,

“Feels like we’re about to watch gods move.”

Tom, seated beside her, glanced out the window.

“I can show you a few moves if you want to learn,” he said quietly. “But don’t put them on the same level as God. God create the living. We merely borrow strength for a moment.”

Jenny blinked—half amused, half uncertain—and the tram slid to a stop.

The Arena of Ranks

The Coliseum of Resonance loomed before them—a massive dome carved into the heart of the canyon, half open to the sky, half wrapped in shimmering barriers.

Eight concentric rings levitated inside, suspended by anti-grav fields. Each ring could morph terrain—sand, forest, ocean, steel—through the shifting patterns of the morph-crystal floor.

Above, a transparent gallery circled the interior, where hundreds of younger students leaned over railings. In the center, a pillar of light displayed combat statistics: resonance output, stability, time.

[Current Duel Ranking Board — Form 4 Division]

1️⃣ Lira Vale – D-Rank Mid Tier (Tempest Wind Form)
2️⃣ Dren Corvan – D-Rank Low Tier (Gravity Anchor Art)
3️⃣ Seren Ika – E-Rank High Tier (Photon Edge)
4️⃣ Mara Dell – E-Rank High Tier (Spirit Flux)

Instructor Erhad stood at the center dais, voice carrying like thunder.

“Remember this, Form One students. In this arena, power means nothing without rhythm. We fight in three-minute sessions—no killing intent, no reckless outburst. Discipline is your armor.”

He struck the floor with his baton.

“Watch and learn.”

The dome flickered; terrain shifted to a desert plateau.
Lira Vale appeared first—her hair caught in a swirl of teal light. Opposite her, Dren Corvan, broad-shouldered, aura pulsing gray-silver.

A sharp swoosh! echoed as Lira’s wind arcs sliced through dust.
A deep bang! followed as Dren’s gravity field slammed the sand flat.

Shockwaves rippled to the upper tiers; the morph-crystal plates glowed molten red at impact.

“Whoa! That’s D-Rank intensity?!” one student gasped.
“Their auras look alive!” said another.

Jenny leaned over the railing, eyes wide. “It’s beautiful… like the air itself listens to them.”

Kaito’s knuckles whitened. “That’s the strength of those ahead of us.”
Tom’s gaze stayed steady. “And the rhythm of those who learned patience.”

Erhad’s voice boomed again.

“Observe the tempo. Strength without tempo is noise!”

When the match timer chimed, both seniors bowed, sweat and light dissolving into vapor.

For a heartbeat, silence held—then applause erupted across the gallery.

The applause faded as Instructor Erhad’s baton tapped the floor again.
“Eyes up,” he said. “This next projection might interest you.”

The central pillar flickered, revealing a new holographic chart:

[Current Duel Ranking Board — Form 5 Division]

1️⃣ Riven Solas — C Rank Low-Tier (Sword Tech: Void Edge)
2️⃣ Tarek Mohr — C Rank Low-Tier (Gravity Pulse Hammer)
3️⃣ Lance Yu — D Rank High-Tier (Physical Flow Specialist)
4️⃣ Elira Vane — D Rank High-Tier (Illusion Resonance)
5️⃣ Nair Qin — D Rank High-Tier (Support Strategist)

Murmurs spread through the first-years like static.

Zachary let out a low whistle. “Now that’s a roster. Riven Solas just hit C-Rank last cycle. Probably going to lock top spot again after the next evaluation.”

Jenny tilted her head. “How’s it ranked? By win count?”

Erhad overheard and gave a small grin.
“Not quite, Miss Cross. Semesta doesn’t reward brawlers. Duel Records measure five pillars — victory ratio, resonance efficiency, rhythm stability, technique precision, and composure under fire. Lose your temper, lose your points.”
He raised his baton toward the ranking board. “Riven Solas holds first not because he wins — but because he never breaks rhythm. Even in loss, his field remains clean.”

Kai Ren’s brow furrowed. “Solas… of the military line, right?”
Erhad’s expression softened slightly. “Correct. Lieutenant General Arden Solas’s great-grandson. Discipline runs in their blood. The boy channels the Void Edge style — clean, quiet, efficient. Cuts through air before the sound catches up.”

Aru crossed his arms. “Sounds like someone I’d actually respect.”

Zachary grinned. “Oh, you mean someone who won’t get crushed by your ego?”

“Maybe,” Aru replied, smirking. “We’ll see if he still looks calm when he meets someone who doesn’t care about records.”

Kaito stayed silent, his fists tight. “C Rank already… That’s the kind of wall that separates prodigies from the rest.”

Tom’s eyes flicked toward the hologram, reading each data pulse that shimmered under Riven’s name. “Walls exist to be measured — not feared.”

Erhad gave a single approving nod. “Good. That’s the right mindset.”
He turned toward the next terrain cycle.
“Watch carefully. Every one of you has a field of your own to refine. Break rhythm once, and the arena will remind you what chaos feels like.”

The morph-crystal plates rippled again.
Sand turned to mist.
The hum of the Coliseum returned — and the Form 1 students leaned forward, their hearts echoing that same pulse.

Kaito’s Challenge

Erhad turned back toward the students.

“You’ve seen the standard. Any volunteers brave enough to feel the rhythm for themselves?”

Murmurs spread. Jenny shook her head quickly. Zachary ducked behind his tablet.

Then Kaito stepped forward. “Permission to spar, sir.”
His tone was respectful—but beneath it burned frustration.

Erhad raised an eyebrow. “Opponent?”
Kaito’s eyes locked on one figure near the back. “Anderson.”

A ripple passed through the class.

Tom stepped forward calmly. “Understood.”

Erhad exhaled. “Fine. Ten-minute limit. No weapons. Break only if resonance exceeds safety threshold.”

The morph-crystal floor shifted again, flattening into a basalt plain under low artificial wind. Dozens of students gathered at the edges; even a few seniors leaned over from higher rings to watch.

Aggression

The countdown flashed: 3… 2… 1

Kaito moved first—a blur of motion, blue-white aura flaring around him like a flame caught in storm. Each step cracked the stone beneath his feet.

Boom!
A wave of force rippled across the arena.

Tom barely shifted—half a step, a turn of his shoulder—and the blast missed entirely.
He flowed like water, always just outside Kaito’s reach.

“How’s he doing that?!” someone shouted.
“He’s not dodging—he’s predicting!”

From the instructor deck, Erhad’s eyes narrowed. A thin bead of sweat traced his temple.
He’d seen that kind of movement before—in veterans who’d fought real wars.

Overdrive

Frustration broke through Kaito’s rhythm.
He pushed harder, resonance spiking. Blue sparks burst across the field; cracks webbed the basalt.

The safety lights flashed amber.
Erhad opened his mouth to intervene—then stopped.

Tom hadn’t moved. He stood perfectly still, one hand raised slightly as if catching invisible rain.

Climax — Absorption

A single exhale.

The air folded inward.
Kaito’s aura collapsed, devoured by a silent pressure that felt like a vacuum.
The lights dimmed; sensors flatlined.

Then—nothing. Total stillness.

Kaito staggered to one knee, panting, aura extinguished.

Erhad’s voice finally broke the silence.

“Lesson one—rhythm before rage.”
He glanced at Tom.
“Mr. Anderson… you move like a veteran fighter. Care to explain where you learned it?”

Tom simply toweled his hands dry. “Observation, sir.”

“Hmph. Observation, then.”

The gallery erupted—half awe, half disbelief.
Jenny pressed a hand to her chest, whispering,

“He didn’t fight. He just taking a walk in a park. Can I defeat him in one-on-one fight? My rank is higher than him though however seeing this I don’t have confident anymore. Who is he really?”

Kaito bowed stiffly, face shadowed but eyes burning.
I’ll bridge that gap, he swore silently.

The match ended, and the crowd’s cheers dissolved into whispers that would spread through the academy before nightfall.

End of Part I — The Arena’s Rhythm