The platform quieted.
Not a breath from the crowd. Just two figures facing each other, ten meters apart.
Julia exhaled slowly.
5 across the board.
She could feel the restraint pulsing through her limbs like weighted cuffs—speed, strength, reaction, all pressed down to the academy's baseline.
It was an intentional handicap.
The average first-year ranker—Rank 1000—had attributes around 5. For someone like her, who played on a different scale entirely, it felt like tying weights to her soul.
But that was the point.
Since this was a practice, naturally the students who somehow ended up matching with higher ranked ones needed to be adjusted.
Else, this wouldn't become a practice.
Across from her, Astron stood still—daggers sheathed at his side, bow gripped loosely in hand. His purple eyes didn't waver. No movement. No emotion.
But she saw it.
