The number 1 has spoken

The Year 3 training area was a scene of sheer discipline. The air smelled of sweat and metal, weights clanking, battle dummies being torn apart, and energy flaring as students refined their techniques. These were the elite—students who had been hardened through three years of brutal training.

Noah walked in, his red uniform pants standing out against the sea of older students dressed in darker training gear.

A few heads turned.

'Great. Here comes the fluke.'

That was what some of them were thinking. He could feel it. The kid who got famous overnight because he survived a Category 3 beast attack?

Why was he walking straight to Lucas Grey?

Lucas was mid-pull-up, muscles taut, sweat running down his forearms. He spotted Noah approaching but didn't pause, smoothly finishing his rep before dropping to the floor.

Noah stopped right in front of him, hands in his pockets.

A few students snorted. Arrogant.