chapter 6:A Thunderous Entrance

The crowd was still buzzing from Princess Shreya's incredible score of 86.

"She's even stronger than her elder brother!"

"She might actually rank in the top five!"

But the instructor didn't let the excitement linger.

"Next! Abhishek."

Abhishek walked up to the stage, hands in his pockets and a cool expression on his face. Unlike the other students who flared their aura or showed off, he did nothing flashy. No chant, no power-up. Just raw confidence.

He reached the stone, took a calm breath, and clenched his fist. Then bam!—he struck the stone directly, relying on pure physical strength.

The score blinked on the screen: 61.

Abhishek stepped down with a small smirk. "Not bad," he muttered.

Ayush, already waiting at the side, chuckled with a cocky grin. "Still below me," he said, crossing his arms arrogantly.

Abhishek raised an eyebrow. "Still better than that awkward position of yours."

Ayush's face flushed red. "Tch… whatever," he grumbled, looking away with a pout.

"Next! Prateek."

The name echoed across the ground, and the mood suddenly changed. Prateek, shy and uncertain, made his way up the steps.

But halfway through—thud!

He stumbled.

The crowd burst into laughter.

"Look at this clown!"

"Just give up already!"

Prateek's cheeks burned as he looked down in shame. Why did I even come here…? I don't belong…

He was about to turn back when Aryan's voice rang out.

"Believe in yourself, Prateek! Don't let others laugh at your weakness—turn it into your strength!"

Prateek froze.

Aryan believed in him… Tarun, Ayush, even Abhishek they all had his back.

I have to do it. For them. For myself.

He clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and stood tall. With newfound determination, he charged forward and slammed his fist into the stone.

Score: 49.

Gasps spread across the area.

"That's… that's the same as Kartik!"

Even Kartik's gang was shocked.

"W-what?! How?" Kartik shouted, his voice cracking. "This loser can't possibly match me! I'm—!"

Shivam narrowed his eyes, visibly annoyed. "How can a lowly commoner outperform so many?" he muttered.

From a distance, Princess Shreya watched with an amused glint in her eyes.

"Hmm… didn't think he had it in him. Cute, actually," she whispered.

"Next—Shivam!"

The murmurs died instantly.

The prince of the Fire Empire strode forward, head high, his steps measured and regal. His every movement radiated pride and power. As he reached the stone, a shimmer of heat distorted the air around him. Sparks of flame danced along his arms.

"Intermediate Ember rank," the instructors murmured in awe.

Shivam's thoughts surged. Let's show them what royal blood means… Let those filthy commoners kneel in the face of true power.

He raised his fist. Flames roared, swirling around his arm like a phoenix preparing to dive.

BOOM!

The stone shook under the force of his strike.

Score: 98.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

"He beat his brother's record!"

"He's going to be the next fire general!"

Shivam turned to face Aryan directly, his lips curling into a smug grin.

"Let's see if a nobody like you can even reach half of that."

Aryan stepped forward silently, ignoring the taunt. There was no flashy entrance, no dramatic aura.

Just calm footsteps.

Some in the crowd looked confused. "Where's his aura?" "He's got no element?"

But those with sharper senses noticed the truth.

Small arcs of lightning began to crackle faintly around Aryan's right arm. Static buzzed softly in the air.

Intermediate Ember rank.

His eyes focused on the stone. He took a slow breath, bringing his thoughts together.

I've only recently formed my aura… but I've trained for this. No more doubts. Just… do it.

He clenched his fist, lightning crackling in rhythm with his heartbeat.

And then

BOOM!

The strike thundered across the field. The stone vibrated violently as the measuring device blinked erratically, trying to stabilize.

And then—111.

The highest score in the academy's entire century-long history.

Silence.

Then—

"WHAT?!"

"No way!"

"Who is this guy?!"

The crowd erupted into chaos.

Even Kishor, who had been calmly observing from the instructor's platform, stood up with widened eyes.

Shivam stood frozen, his jaw clenched.

"That's impossible… the machine must be broken! It was just a simple strike!"

Kishor's voice rang out, calm but stern.

"The machine is perfectly accurate. You may be a prince, Shivam, but this academy respects talent above all else. Control your emotions."

Shivam's expression twisted. A flicker of bloodlust stirred in his gaze—but Kishor's tone cut deeper than any weapon.

"This is Ashvattha Vidya Mandala—not a royal battlefield. You'll learn to act like a warrior here."

Aryan stepped down from the stage, casually brushing his robe.

He glanced at Shivam—and gave him a playful wink.

Up above, hidden atop a nearby rooftop, a cloaked figure stood watching the scene unfold.

A faint smirk crept onto their face.

"As expected of his disciple… but this?" the figure whispered. "This is too much." A pause. "Who is this child?" Another pause and a grin. "He's a real talent."

And with that, the shadow vanished into the breeze.

Down on the field, the final rankings appeared on the giant screen:

Top Notable Rankings (Out of 200 Participants):

Rank 1: Aryan – 111

Rank 2: Shivam – 98

Rank 3: Shreya – 86

Rank 4: Nakul (Lightning Empire) – 81

Rank 5: Divyanshi (Earth Empire) – 80

Rank 69: Ayush

Rank 88: Abhishek

Rank 162: Ramesh

Rank 180: Kartik

Rank 181: Prateek