No Rest for the Unlucky

The spiritual pool steamed in the cold morning light, tendrils of mist curling like sleepy snakes over its surface. Chase winced as he submerged further, the mineral-rich water stinging every bruise and scrape he'd earned yesterday. His ribs throbbed. His shoulder pulsed with a dull ache. And the strange buzzing in his spine hadn't quite stopped since Talya's spear caught him square in the back.

"Feeling heroic yet?" Zephyr's voice drifted from across the pool, where he lounged like he was on vacation.

Chase groaned. "I feel like my organs have swapped places."

"Good. That's how you know the sect likes you."

Chase let his head tip back against the stone rim, eyes closed. He could hear other disciples murmuring nearby, complaining about soreness, failures, or bragging about victories that probably didn't happen. He tried to block them all out.

Until Talya's voice cut through the fog. "You're not dead. I'm mildly disappointed."

He cracked an eye open.

Talya stood at the edge of the pool in her training robes, hair damp with sweat, a towel slung over her shoulder. Ryn trailed behind her, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as always.

"Morning to you too," Chase muttered.

"You fought like someone with a death wish," she said. "Sloppy but stubborn."

"Thanks. You're brutal but graceful."

Talya blinked. "That… might be the nicest thing anyone's said to me all month."

Ryn smirked.

Zephyr waved lazily from the other side. "Group therapy's that way, friends."

Talya ignored him and dipped her feet into the water, sighing as she sank to her knees. Ryn sat on the rocks, content to stay dry.

For a while, no one spoke. It was a fragile moment, the kind that only came after violence had passed but before the next trial could begin.

Then a bell rang in the distance.

Everyone in the pool groaned in near unison.

"Already?" someone muttered.

Another bell. Deeper this time. More insistent.

A disciple ran past the edge of the bathhouse, shouting. "Newbloods! Trial summons! Report to the Outer Arena in fifteen minutes or you're getting dragged!"

Chase sat up, water sloshing. "We just got out of a duel."

Zephyr groaned. "No rest for the unlucky."

Talya stood and tied her hair up in one motion. "They're testing us. Seeing who folds under pressure."

"Or dies of muscle cramps," Zephyr added helpfully.

The Outer Arena was a bowl of sand and stone. High walls ringed the edges, with towering seats already filling with elders, instructors, and even some sect seniors. The sun hadn't fully cleared the mountain yet, but the air was buzzing with spiritual energy. The kind of atmosphere that made weaker cultivators vomit.

Chase spotted Instructor Wen pacing at the center, hands behind his back, robes snapping in the wind like flags. Teams were filing into the arena from multiple tunnels.

"Team Four," Wen called. "Front and center."

Chase and the others jogged forward. Wen gave them a once-over—lingering slightly on Chase, then Ryn.

"The first trial is simple," he said. "Team versus team. Two rounds. Rotation after each loss. You win twice, you advance. You lose twice, you repeat the week's training. With twice the weight and none of the praise."

Zephyr whispered, "I choose death."

"Team Four," Wen barked. "You face Team Nine. Now."

From the opposite tunnel, four disciples emerged. They looked older—seasoned. Their uniforms were trimmed with silver, signaling they'd been in the sect longer than the new initiates. One of them, a broad-shouldered girl with a twin-bladed staff, cracked her neck and sneered.

"Hope you newbies like dirt," she said, stepping into the ring.

Chase's grip on his spear tightened.

The battle was fast and unforgiving.

Talya darted forward first, lashing out with quick, precise strikes meant to disorient. Ryn mirrored her like a shadow, stepping in whenever her opponent overreached. Zephyr, true to form, danced around the edges, throwing pebbles, insults, and spiritual flashes that left enemies blinking.

Chase held the line.

The silver-trimmed team fought hard. Their leader had wind affinity, and the twin-bladed staff created cyclones that knocked Talya aside. Zephyr took a grazing hit that spun him into the sand.

Ryn vanished into smoke.

Chase stepped in front of Talya just in time to catch a wind blade across the arm.

Pain. Sharp. Searing.

He gritted his teeth. Darkness surged in his palm.

The next move wasn't elegant. It wasn't beautiful. But when Chase's spear struck the ground and shadow burst beneath the silver-trimmed leader's feet, swallowing her legs, it was enough.

Ryn appeared behind her and tapped a pressure point at the base of her spine.

She dropped.

The round ended.

They won.

But barely.

As they dragged themselves off the sand, Wen only said, "Again."

Talya coughed. "What—now?"

Zephyr wept softly. "We're not even getting a snack break?"

"Team Six," Wen barked.

Another group filed in. A boy in front smirked.

Chase frowned.

He looked familiar. That grin. The sharp cheekbones. The way he held his blade low, like he was always one second away from lashing out.

He was one of the top scorers during the affinity test. Earth and flame. A mix of brutality and precision.

He looked at Chase and tilted his head. "You're the blind one, yeah?"

Chase stepped forward. "Used to be."

"Funny. You still look like you're trying to feel your way around."

The way he said it—it wasn't mockery. It was bait.

Chase smiled thinly. "Careful. Some people bite."

The boy nodded. "Good. Makes it more fun."

Zephyr leaned close to Talya. "Can I vote that guy off the mountain?"

She glanced at Chase. "No. But he's about to try."

By the time the second match ended, the sand was soaked in sweat, a bit of blood, and one scorched boot.

They didn't win the second match.

But they didn't lose cleanly either.

Ryn took down one. Zephyr managed to blind another with a clever flash bomb and his own tunic. But Chase—

Chase clashed with the earth-flame boy. Over and over. Their blows rang like drums. It wasn't until Chase's spear cracked, and the boy landed a heavy blow to his ribs, that the round was called.

As they limped off, Wen simply nodded.

"Better."

Later, on the path back to the dorms, Zephyr moaned with every step. "We didn't die. I demand snacks."

Talya punched him in the arm. "We need a strategy."

Ryn was quiet. His gaze kept flicking back to the flame-earth boy they'd fought.

Chase was quiet too. But not from pain.

He'd felt something strange during the clash. The way their spiritual energy clashed. That boy… he wasn't just talented.

He was dangerous.