For a brief moment, the training ground was still.

Arbor was still trying to process what had just happened—how Eva, the weird-eyed sheep girl, had knocked them all out like it was nothing. One blink, and their mind had gone quiet.

The illusion of Freya turned, voice calm but authoritative. “Now that the spar between Alek and Arbor is complete, Eva, you may step forward to test your skills. You two may take your seats.”

Eva stood, brushing off her uniform as Arbor and Alek made their way to the bleachers. Alek looked mildly annoyed, probably because he never got to unleash whatever he’d been storing in that strange gate of his. Arbor, on the other hand, was just relieved to be done fighting the elf boy. Without hesitation, they sat as far away from Alek as the bleachers allowed.

Still, their curiosity got the better of them. After that sleep spell—or whatever it was—Arbor wanted to know more about what Eva could actually do.

Alek’s expression softened, his frustration seeming to fade as the tension left the field.

Eva stepped into the arena, her posture relaxed. “So, what is it you want me to do?”

The illusion responded evenly, “This will be a simple test of your combat knowledge. A series of magical and physical challenges that will increase in difficulty. You may stop at any point if you feel overwhelmed or are ‘taken out’ by a blow.”

“Got it,” Eva said with a nod. “Let’s get started, then.”

Arbor leaned forward slightly, half-expecting her to pull out a weapon—maybe a hidden staff or even a dagger like Alek. Maybe even a sword like her sister. But she didn’t move. She just stood there with her arms at her sides, eyes calm and half-lidded.

What is she doing? Arbor thought.

And then the illusion activated the test.

A swirling cloud of insects burst into existence—buzzing, writhing, hundreds of tiny wings slicing through the air in chaotic unison. It was like a wall of wriggling noise and movement.

Arbor grimaced, their skin crawling. It wasn’t the bugs themselves—it was just how many there were.

Eva, on the other hand, didn’t flinch.

She stood calmly as the swarm of insects closed in, then raised a single hand. With a smooth, fluid motion, a complex rune circle flickered into existence—spinning, layered with glyphs and symbols that Arbor didn’t recognize. It hovered just above her palm, glowing faintly pink.

Arbor blinked. “Wait... people can just do that?”

Even Alek looked thrown off, his brows tightening as he leaned forward to get a better look.

Eva’s eyes shifted again, glowing bright pink. With a soft pulse of mana that resonated in the air like a chime, the bugs simply... vanished. No explosion. No fanfare. Just gone—like they’d never been there to begin with.

Illusion Freya’s voice rang out, a rare note of curiosity in her tone. “Hmm. You have a very unique gift. Very few mages can conjure a spell circle on sight. Not even the real me could do that without preparation. Were you hiding this from me, sister?”

Eva glanced at the illusion with a cool expression. “No. I’ve just learned a lot away from you.”

The Illusion of Freya tilted her head, a familiar grin creeping across her face.

“Ah, I see. Well, we can’t have you destabilizing the illusions and ruining the test now, can we?”

Behind her, a shimmer of mana surged, and something massive took shape. With a final flick of her hand, the image of Freya conjured a towering beast—a hulking, armored rhino-like creature with a neck far too long and plated, its horn twisted like a spiral lance. Curved fangs jutted from its jaws, and its muscles rippled beneath rune-etched plating. It looked like something torn out of a legend—and dropped into the wrong story.

Arbor stood, eyes wide. “What in the world is that thing?”

“Quiet, Arbor,” the illusion snapped without turning.

Eva sighed, planting a hand on her hip. “Even your fake self has no restraint, huh, sis?”

The beast let out a bellow and charged. The air trembled.

Eva’s hand moved fast—her magic circling, glyphs forming in midair. A rune wheel snapped into place, but when the spell pulsed outward, it only flickered across the beast’s hide. The illusion fizzled, but barely. The creature pushed forward, undeterred.

“Ah,” the illusion mused with a nostalgic tone. “We can’t make this too easy. That one’s a more focused creation. Took this one out when I was your age—maybe a bit younger. It was a mission out of my range... but I managed.”

Her image smiled wistfully, as if recalling a fond, deadly memory.

“You’ll need more than a clever spell circle to drop this one, Eva. Let’s see what you’ve really learned while away.”

The beast thundered forward, shaking the ground with each step. Eva’s eyes widened.

“Shit,” she muttered, diving into a smooth roll just as the monster roared past, narrowly missing her.

Arbor tensed, watching the towering creature barreling toward the bleachers—toward them. But just before it could crash into the stands, a shimmering wall of mana materialized with a sharp crack. The beast slammed into it, stunned and snarling, its massive form jolting as magical energy flared around it.

It staggered back, snorting, clearly confused.

Eva didn’t waste the moment. With a flick of both wrists, two tiny metallic spheres slipped from her sleeves and bounced once on the ground before flashing with light. They grew instantly, swelling to the size of her head, then rose into the air to hover at her sides.

The illusion of Freya arched a brow. “Interesting.”

Arbor blinked. What are those? They didn’t recognize the devices, and the illusion of Freya seemed far more talkative now than during their own test. Maybe it was a family thing.

The beast, regaining its bearings, snarled again and lunged.

Eva’s arm shot forward. One of the floating orbs zipped ahead, flaring with magic as a glowing pink rune circle formed around it. In an instant, a translucent, hexagonal wall erupted into place.

The creature smashed against the barrier with a deafening boom, then backed up and charged again—only to be blocked once more. The orb danced around Eva, intercepting every charge, projecting barrier after barrier with flawless timing.

Meanwhile, the second orb remained behind her, its runes glowing brighter with every collision. Arbor leaned forward. The glowing wasn’t just for show—the circle on the orb was absorbing the kinetic force of each hit, storing it like a battery charging under pressure.

Eva was doing more than defending. She was waiting. Letting the monster wear itself down.

She was building up something.

Something big.

The runes on the second orb reached full capacity—and in that moment, the mana around Eva shifted. A sharp, radiant pulse burst from the orb, and the shield orb, now spent, zipped back to hover protectively at her side.

The beast, undeterred, lowered its massive horn and charged once more.

Eva’s lips curled into a confident grin. “Dumb beast,” she whispered. Then she shouted, “Halt!”

Her eyes blazed pink, a vivid light flickering within them like twin stars. A thin line of blood trickled down her cheek from the strain. Whatever she’d just done, it was powerful—and it hurt.

Arbor felt it too. Their muscles seized involuntarily, as if their body had been ordered by something far greater to stop. Their breath hitched. That command—whatever spell it was—washed over the entire arena.

And it worked.

The creature froze in place mid-charge, its claws scraping at the stone beneath. The sheer force of the magic gripped it, locking its limbs as if invisible chains held it down.

Eva raised a hand.

The second orb, now thrumming with raw energy, pulsed violently—then fired. A beam of concentrated mana erupted from it, a howling lance of power that seared the air and shot directly at the beast.

Arbor's breath caught. That has to be it—it’s over!

But at the last second, the illusionary beast twisted its body sideways, bracing with its armored shoulder. The beam crashed into it with a metallic clang, the impact ringing like a gong. For a brief moment, the illusion shuddered. A dent appeared in the beast’s armor. Blood—illusionary, yet disturbingly real—oozed from the break.

The creature staggered.

But it did not fall.

Eva stood there, frozen. “What...?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Just then, the creature let out a bloodcurdling screech—high, sharp, and utterly unnatural.

Arbor clutched their stomach, the sound slicing through their ears like needles. Their vision swam. I think I’m going to be sick, they thought, dizzy.

Alek, despite his hardened edge, stumbled and dropped to one knee, his hands over his ears.

But Eva—who was standing closest—collapsed entirely. She hit the ground on her hands and knees, gasping for breath, her chest heaving.

The monster didn’t wait.

A hiss escaped from beneath its armor as a thick, violet mist poured out, curling low along the arena floor like a creeping tide. The fog clung to the air, dense and suffocating.

Eva’s spell orbs dropped to the stone with a soft clatter.

She inhaled—then choked. Violently. Her coughing echoed off the arena walls as she keeled over, her body wracked with spasms.

The beast stepped forward, looming over her with predatory calm. Its jaw unhinged grotesquely, revealing rows of jagged fangs. It looked as though it was about to devour her whole.

But just as its mouth opened wide—

The illusion of Freya raised a hand.

The mist vanished in an instant. The monstrous figure dissolved into blue motes of magic, evaporating like a dream at dawn.

“You’re not ready to fight that one yet,” the illusion said, voice cool and flat.

Eva pushed herself up onto trembling arms, still coughing as the last of the poison left her lungs. “What was the point of that?!” she snapped.

“Just a simple test,” the illusion replied, tone dripping with false sweetness. “Since you’re my sister, I thought you’d be a little more capable.”

Eva’s eyes flared a vivid pink.

She thrust out a hand.

A flash of runes ignited in front of her, flaring like a sigil carved in rage. The image of Freya shattered into shards of blue light, fading with a hiss of static.

Eva sat, breathing hard, pink light pulsing from her eyes. “I’ve had enough of that.”

Alek darted from the bleachers the moment the illusion shattered, his boots clacking against the stone as he reached Eva’s side. “Hey—Eva, you good?” he asked, dropping to a knee beside her. His hands hovered at her shoulders, unsure whether to steady her or give her space.

Eva gave a small nod between breaths, wiping at the blood that had trickled down from one eye. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. Just… caught off guard.”

“You sure?” Alek frowned, uncharacteristically serious. “That thing nearly ate you.”

She gave a weak laugh. “Don’t remind me.”

High on the bleachers, Arbor hadn’t moved.

They sat hunched, gripping the edge of the seat with white-knuckled fingers. The hum of mana still buzzed faintly in their ears, but all they could hear was the echo of that screech—and the sound of Eva’s ragged coughing.

They swallowed hard, eyes locked on the now-empty arena.

What was that? What kind of place puts you through something like that just to prove you're strong enough?

They watched Alek and Eva from a distance, the two sharing hushed words below.

All Arbor could think was: What have I gotten myself into and where is Freya?