The Beginning of School Troubles: The Spar

At last, after hours of waiting, the first-years had reached their school. This stage, too, ended in bloodshed before they arrived at the birthplace of peace.
Some first-years fluttered with excitement, grins stretching ear to ear. Others were so weary they nodded off on their feet.
Tucked away within the forest stood a place with many buildings, each bearing its own distinct character.

Some buildings were crafted of pale stone, graced with towering, floor-to-ceiling windows and vast greenhouses from which the scent of medicinal herbs rose into the air. Training grounds still echoed with the clashing dance of blades.
The school stood ready to nurture its young talents – those whose very hands would forge the future.
At the school's entrance, they were met with an unusual sight: teachers and second-year students, all wearing smiles tinged at times with bewilderment, had come to welcome these new children. The second-years stood with arms crossed, awaiting their charges, ready to undertake the duty of introducing the school.

At the center of the teachers stood one who radiated the deepest pride. William waited impatiently for these prodigies to arrive.
The first-years, now standing right before the school gates, were growing increasingly unsettled. The weight of the eyes fixed upon them pressed down on their shoulders.
"Headmaster, it seems we truly have prodigies on our hands this year... or perhaps your standards weren't quite demanding enough?" Abraham stood waiting as ever, his expression stern.

"Well now... Abraham, I must say upfront that these youngsters are bound to cause you trouble—and the rest of you teachers too."
William took a step forward and swiftly grasped the shoulders of Arian and Dreykaron. Abraham and several puffed-chested second-years swelled with performative pride.
"My congratulations to you all. It’s an honor to serve you these next four years." William’s smile seemed eternally lit as he watched them with softened eyes.

"So you were the Headmaster." Arian took a deliberate step back, freeing himself from the weight of William's grip, then added:
"It's an honor to be at this school... but if I may, let's attend to our wounded first before the celebrations and introductions!" With utmost courtesy, Arian gestured toward his injured companions. After a brief bow to the Headmaster, he turned back to his group.

"You have a point. Abraham, please take the wounded to the infirmary. The rest of you—follow the second-years. They’ll show you around." William issued the necessary orders, then retreated to his office alongside the other teachers.
Abraham led the injured stiffly toward the infirmary, his demeanor radiating impatience. Meanwhile, the male second-years guided the newcomers toward the training grounds, while the females headed for the dormitories.

"Hey folks, pleasure meeting you all. I'm Alex, representing the second-years." Sharp-eyed Alex had already noted the social hierarchy forged during the forest ordeal. He swiftly made his way toward Arian, Drekaron, and Maro.
"Likewise delighted. You may call me Drekaron," Drekaron extended his hand to the human before him.
"Well then, Drekaron—hope you're not too weary. We'd love to uphold tradition with a friendly spar against your group." Alex inquired, a challenging smirk playing on his lips.

"Well, I’ve no objection myself—but you’ll need the others’ consent!" Drekaron turned his head toward his comrades, gesturing to his group.
"Fair enough. Let’s pick just two from each side, then?!" Alex motioned to both factions, signaling them to prepare.
They streamed toward the combat arena. Bleachers packed with spectators encircled the scarred dueling ground.

At the arena’s heart stood four figures, unwavering. From the first-years: Arian and Maro, resolved to test their mettle. Opposite them stood Alex and his brother, Martin.

Minutes earlier:

.

"Hey Arian! Who’s going? I’m ready—feel free to pick me!" Drekaron drew himself up straight, inwardly praying to be chosen for the spar.

"Well... no."
"What do you mean no?!"
"You’re exhausted, Drekaron—can’t you tell? You’re pale. Your mana’s drained. How do you expect to fight?" Arian snapped, forcing Drekaron to confront his condition.
"I... apologize." Drekaron lowered his head, awaiting Arian’s final choice.
"Right. The rest of you are either spent or not keen on self-display... Hmm. Maro—you’re steady, and as a Bloodasham, I doubt you’ll tire easily." With that, Arian chose Maro to fight at his side.

Maro's fangs had bared themselves beneath his lips, once again betraying his boundless excitement.
Leo drew closer, his face a living question mark. "By the way—where's Shadolf? You're not fighting her?"
One corner of Arian's mouth lifted while the other twisted downward—as if caught between sorrow and delight. "She went to nap beside Miss Lina."
Leo and the others burst into laughter, teasing their leader's weakness around a girl.

Present time:

.

Arian and Martin stood poised to begin their spar when suddenly Arian ripped off his armor plates and tossed them aside.
"Hey kid! What the hell are you doing? Stripping your armor is downright disrespectful—you realize that?!" Martin’s brow furrowed as his knuckles whitened around clenched fists.
"Ah, Senior, you misunderstand! I said this was a spar. We’re not here for flashy brawls or actual harm. Aren’t I right?" Arian gave an exaggerated bow—a mock apology that only ground salt into Martin’s fury.

"Fine. Next time, declare such brilliant moves beforehand—spare us the misunderstandings." Martin retreated to his position, posture rigid. "Get back and prepare yourself."

Meanwhile, the teachers—William among them—gazed intently at the combat ground, all stunned by the new student's calculated audacity.

"Lord William, that boy will bring us far more trouble than we imagine." The very same blind examiner who'd judged the entrance trials addressed William, his voice thick with foreboding.

"You're right, Naethus. This boy is exceptional." William's smile—unbroken since the group's arrival—still hadn't faded.

Amidst this exchange, the mock spar ignited. On one flank, the earth beneath Martin's feet trembled as slabs tore skyward. On the other, Arian stood solitary, shattering clay jars encircling the arena. Droplets drawn from the wreckage coalesced into a massive water orb before him.

Arian's war cry tore through the air:
"HAAAAAA! COME AT ME!!!"