CHAPTER 179: EVALUATION TEST [5]

Alaric pushed through the door and stepped inside.

It closed behind him with a solid thud.

The room was smaller than expected. Plain stone walls. A few benches along the sides. No windows.

Five others were already there. Some faces he recognized from class. Others he’d never seen before.

"Tch. Why’d this bastard come?" The sudden hiss broke him out of his thoughts.

A silver-blonde boy, with pointy ears leaned against the far wall, arms crossed. His pale green eyes tracked Alaric with open disdain. Lips curled slightly in disgust.

Alaric’s gaze swept over him once.

Then dismissed him entirely.

He moved further into the room. Found an empty spot near the back corner. Leaned his shoulder against the wall there.

The silver-blonde’s jaw tightened. His eyes flashed with irritation at being ignored.

Then—

Clap!

The sharp sound echoed in the confined space.

Everyone’s attention snapped toward the center of the room.

A boy stood there. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair swept back from his face. His expression carried easy confidence, the kind that came from being used to people listening when he spoke.

His hands remained together for a moment after the clap. Then dropped to his sides.

"So, all of you are here." His voice carried authority despite his age. "I should introduce myself."

He paused. Let the silence build for a heartbeat.

"My name is Luke Samelon. Second year. I’m from Iron Talon House." He paused, letting that sink in. "And yeah, I’m among the top ten students."

The words carried weight. Pride, but not arrogance. Just stating facts.

A girl near the front shifted her weight. "So... what does that have to do with us?"

Luke’s lips quirked upward slightly. "I’ll be taking your evaluation test today."

Silence.

Then—

"Wait, what?" The silver-blonde pushed off the wall. "You’re evaluating us? How does that work?"

"Combat assessment." Luke gestured toward the corners of the room.

Alaric’s eyes followed the motion.

There were sphere artifacts placed. Four of them.

Positioned at each corner. They glowed faintly, barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for.

"The professors will be watching through those," Luke continued. "Everything that happens here gets recorded. Analyzed. Your performance, your decision-making, how you handle pressure."

A stocky boy near the benches frowned. "So we’re fighting you?"

"Not all at once, obviously." Luke crossed his arms. "One-on-one matches. Five minutes each. Show me what you’ve got."

"And if we lose?" the girl asked.

"Depends on how you lose." Luke’s expression remained neutral. "They’re not just grading wins and losses. It’s about how you fight. Your technique. Adaptability. Whether you panic or keep your head."

He then uncrossed his arms. Rolled his shoulders once. "Any other questions before we start?"

No one said anything.

Luke reached behind his back. His hand found the hilt strapped there and drew in a smooth, practiced motion.

A katana came free with a soft shing.

The blade caught the dim light, it was plain, no ornamentation.

Clearly a weapon meant for use, not display.

He held it loosely at his side. Pointed toward the open space in the center.

"Come forward."

The students looked between themselves, deciding, then the silver-blonde haired elf boy pushed off the wall.

His boots clicked against stone as he walked to the center, chin lifted.

Luke’s eyes assessed him. "Name?"

"Faelar Duskbane."

The name came out clipped. Proud.

Luke nodded once. "Faelar. Got it." He shifted his stance slightly, katana rising to a ready position. "Whenever you’re ready."

Faelar’s hand moved in a fluid gesture.

Wind gathered around his fingertips. His pale green eyes narrowed with focus.

Then he moved.

Whoosh!

Wind burst beneath his feet, propelling him forward faster than normal movement. His hand swept outward.

"Gale Slice!"

Compressed air shot toward Luke.

Luke’s katana moved.

And with a single diagonal slash he intercepted the wind blade. The attack dispersed against his steel.

But he didn’t stop there.

His foot planted and body surged forward.

"Iron Body."

His skin took on a metallic sheen, barely visible but there.

Faelar’s eyes widened. He threw himself backward, wind swirling around him again.

"Zephyr Step!"

His form blurred. Multiple afterimages appeared as he circled left, then right, trying to flank.

But Luke tracked him.

His katana swept horizontally just as Faelar materialized at his side.

Clang!

Steel met hastily raised wind barrier. The force drove Faelar back three steps, his boots skidding.

"Not bad," Luke said. His voice steady. His breathing was even. "But you’re telegraphing."

Faelar’s jaw clenched. His hands moved faster.

"Tempest Volley!"

Multiple wind blades erupted from his palms. Five. Six. Seven. All converging on Luke from different angles.

Luke’s stance shifted. His katana moving in a blur.

Clang-clang-clang-clang

Each wind blade met steel, got deflected and dispersed. His footwork was minimal but precise, never moving more than necessary.

The last blade came high.

Luke ducked under it. Then exploded forward.

"Titan’s Stride."

Each step covered impossible distance. His body moved with enhanced momentum.

Faelar tried to retreat. Wind gathered desperately.

But... he was too slow.

Luke’s katana stopped an inch from Faelar’s throat.

Silence.

The elf had frozen mid-cast, wind dissipating around his trembling fingers. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

Luke held the position for two heartbeats. Then lowered his blade.

"Time. Four minutes thirty-two seconds."

He stepped back. Katana returning to a neutral position.

Faelar stood there, chest heaving. The arrogance from earlier completely gone.

"You..." Faelar’s voice came out rough, seeing Luke standing completely fine. "You didn’t even use your full strength."

"Didn’t need to." Luke’s expression remained neutral.

"You’ve got good mobility. Your wind control is solid. But you panic when pressed. And you rely too much on distance." He gestured with his free hand. "Against someone faster or with better reach, that’ll get you killed."

Faelar’s hands clenched at his sides. But he nodded. Once. Stiff.

"Go sit."

The elf moved back toward the wall and closed his.

Luke then turned toward the remaining students. His katana still held loosely, blood-free and ready.

"Next."