“No powers. No safety net. Only instinct.”

Soundscape:

[Electric countdown tone fading into silence. Then—metal clashes, shouts, and the rush of wind through the open dome.]

The Nova Arena trembled beneath the chaos.
Training blades sparked as they collided, echoing against the containment field that pulsed around the ring in a veil of blue light.
Spectators from Classes 1 through 3 leaned forward, their cheers muffled behind the glass.

At the command platform high above, the six instructors watched.
Akira stood with arms crossed, sunglasses hiding the faint glint of amusement in his eyes.

Akira (quietly):
“Let’s see what kind of instincts the Chancellor’s so proud of.”

⚔️ Chase – The Warrior’s Rhythm

Chase moved first.
While others hesitated, he lunged head-on, his greatsword cutting wide arcs through the air. Every swing sent ripples of compressed air rolling across the floor.
His movements were heavy but confident—each strike timed to corner his opponent rather than finish them.

Chase (grinning):
“C’mon! Don’t just stand there!”

He slammed his blade down, forcing two students to leap back. When one tried to counter, Chase twisted his stance, knocking the weapon from their hands with a perfect parry.

Spectator (whispering):
“He’s using brute strength but clean technique—how’s he that balanced already?”

Akira watched, amused.

Akira: “Good instincts. But too much showboating.”

💥 Riku – The Strategist

At the opposite end, Riku stayed low, analyzing rather than charging.
His daggers flashed once, twice—never lingering in one spot. He darted between combatants, landing taps to mark clean hits, then vanished behind cover again.

His style wasn’t flashy—it was surgical.
Where Chase overwhelmed, Riku calculated.

Riku (muttering):
“Predict the angle, commit to the counter.”

He feinted left, drew an opponent’s swing, then pivoted—one clean tap to the ribs. The digital scoreboard flickered, confirming the hit.

From above, Professor Mizuki Hayashi took notes.

Mizuki: “Efficient. Controlled. But he hesitates before finishing. He’s still thinking like a scholar, not a soldier.”
Akira: “That’ll change soon enough.”

❄️ Krystal – The Healer Who Fights

Krystal spun her gunbai fan defensively, using its wide arc to deflect attacks. Despite being the team’s designated healer, she fought with graceful precision—every motion purposeful.
She flowed between offense and defense like a dance, never losing composure even as chaos surrounded her.

Krystal (calling out):
“Focus on form, not fury!”

A blast of wind followed her parry—an instinctive flare of her Divine alignment, quickly suppressed when she realized what she’d done.

The instructors exchanged glances.

Saya: “Did you see that? Even without amplification, she tapped into elemental flow.”
Ryo: “Heh. Natural prodigy. Reminds me of someone.”
Akira: grinning “You mean me? Yeah, I know.”

⚡ Kasane – The Struggle

Kasane held the broadsword with both hands, its weight foreign and clumsy. Each swing slowed her rhythm; each impact jarred her arms.
She dodged an overhead strike, slid across the floor, and barely blocked a class zero student’s follow-up. The clang echoed like thunder.

Kasane (monologue):
“Too heavy… I can’t feel the flow.”

She pivoted, trying to switch to a lighter stance—but the imbalance threw her off. A strike from another student sent her stumbling back. The crowd murmured.

From above, Akira tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable.

Akira (quietly):
“Hm…I can tell..That’s not her rhythm. She’s fighting the weapon, not with it.”

💨 The Turning Point

A third student rushed Kasane from behind.
She spun, parrying instinctively—too slow. The impact rattled through her shoulder.
Her blade nearly slipped from her grip.

Kasane (monologue):
“I can’t rely on weight. I need speed.”

She exhaled sharply, focusing her stance. Instead of forcing strength, she let movement guide her—using the broadsword’s momentum as leverage rather than power.
Her next swing sliced through the air in a clean, fluid motion.

CLANG!
Her opponent’s blade flew free, clattering to the floor.

The crowd gasped. Even Krystal’s eyes widened.

Kasane (monologue):
“Not perfect. But it’s something.”

Akira smirked, finally lowering his arms.

Akira (softly):
“There it is. She adapts mid-flow.”

⚡ Clash of Four

Minutes blurred into chaos.
Chase and Riku traded blows—strength versus speed—while Krystal weaved between them, deflecting stray attacks with her gunbai.
Kasane joined the fray, her improvised rhythm aligning with theirs.

At one point, Chase’s blade met hers head-on.
The sound cracked like lightning.

Chase: “You’re holding up better than I thought!”
Kasane: “Don’t slow down on my account.”

She twisted under his swing, striking his side just hard enough to register a point.
Chase stumbled, surprised—then grinned.

Chase: “Woah.. haha! You got me.”

From the observation deck, Mizuki glanced at Akira.

Mizuki: “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Akira: “Watching the next generation stumble their way into greatness? Absolutely.”

🌸 The Final Exchange

As the timer neared zero, only four remained: Kasane, Chase, Riku, and Krystal.
Each breathing hard, sweat streaking down their faces, plastic weapons trembling from exhaustion.

Arena AI: “Thirty seconds remaining.”

Chase and Riku exchanged a look, silently agreeing to go all-out.
They charged. Kasane pivoted between them, deflecting one strike, ducking the next. Krystal countered from behind with a wind-powered sweep, knocking all three off-balance.

BOOM!
A shockwave rippled across the arena as the energy field flickered.

The crowd erupted.

Akira leaned forward slightly.

Akira (low, impressed):
“Not bad… not bad at all.”

The timer hit zero.

Arena AI: “Match concluded. Class Zero evaluation complete.”

🌤️ Aftermath

The lights dimmed, the barrier field dissipated. Students collapsed to one knee, gasping for air.
The spectators applauded—some out of respect, others in disbelief.

Kasane dropped her sword, exhaling, her hands still shaking.
She glanced upward—toward the observation deck.
Through the glare of the lights, she caught a glimpse of a man in sunglasses, smirking faintly.

Kasane (monologue):
“…Is that…?”

Akira turned, speaking quietly to Mizuki.

Akira:
“Yup, I’m firm with my decision.”

The camera pans up, the arena glowing beneath a shower of cherry blossom petals drifting through the skylight.