Rise Of The Lesser-Blood

Mina stared at the glowing blue text on the slate board, her hands subtly clenching into fists on top of her desk.

Next to her, Ryan let out a ragged, uneven breath, his bandaged torso tense as he looked from his own name down to the words Thunder Knight.

Thomas shuddered, the cold, precise warning from the mysterious senior girl the night before felt incredibly loud in the silence of the room. The nobility weren’t trying to test them anymore. They had stacked the grid to turn the arena floor into a literal slaughterhouse for the low-born circle.

Before Instructor Cross could even bark his dismissal order, Mina slowly stood up from her wooden bench. Her posture was straight, but her sharp hazel eyes were completely level as she looked down toward the front podium.

”Instructor,” Mina announced, her voice echoing clearly off the vaulted stone ceiling. ”I forfeit my match against Garrett of House Nightfall.”

A collective wave of stunned whispers and mocking chuckles instantly rippled through the front rows of High-blood students. The noble rows sneered, entirely amused by what they assumed was pure, lesser cowardice. Garrett, sitting in the middle tiers, let out a short, condescending laugh and turned back to his notes.

But before the murmurs could die down, Ryan steeled his jaw, bracing his hands against his desk to force his battered body into a standing position. His core was visibly empty, his breathing heavy from the sheer physical toll of yesterday’s burnout.

”I forfeit my match against Sylvia as well, Instructor,” Ryan said, his voice thick with a mix of pride and lingering frustration, but completely devoid of hesitation.

Instructor Cross paused, his sharp grey eyes flicking from Mina to Ryan before finally landing on the slate board. Because every talent in the world was entirely unique, he knew as well as anyone that these two stood no chance against their opponents.

”Forfeits recorded,” Cross barked coldly, his mana-chalk rapidly scratching out the first two matches on the grid. ”Garrett and Sylvia advance automatically to the next tier. Class dismissed to the Arena. Match 3 will commence in thirty minutes.”

The classroom rapidly emptied, the noble students laughing and posturing as they glided through the heavy oak doors. Down at the front, Julian slowly stood up, adjusting his silver-rimmed glasses with a cold, unreadable smirk before disappearing into the corridor.

Thomas remained seated in the back row, his farm-boy mask perfectly smooth as glass as he looked at his two companions. He knew how much it pained them to step down after fighting so hard to reach the second day.

Mina walked over to Thomas’s desk, stopping right in front of him. Her sharp hazel eyes were bright with an intense, unshakeable focus, completely free of any shame or regret. She reached out, placing a firm, steady hand directly on Thomas’s shoulder.

”Don’t look at us like that, Tom,” Mina said, her voice dropping into a quiet, fiercely intense whisper that vibrated with raw emotion. ”We know our limits, and we know when the deck is entirely stacked against us. Lina had the brains to back out yesterday, and we aren’t going to let them mangle us just to feed their arrogant pride.”

Ryan stepped closer, leaning against the edge of the desk, his hazel eyes burning with defiance as he looked at his roommate. ”She’s right, bro. There is nothing much we can do for now, maybe if we had time to develop our Talents and cores we could stand a chance but as it is now we will be marching to our deaths.”

Mina squeezed Thomas’s shoulder, her grip tightening as she leaned in closer, her voice carrying the heavy weight of every lesser-blood scraping by in the dirt of the outer rings.

”We are out, Thomas. But you are still in,” Mina said, looking directly into his eyes. ”You are the only one who can dismantle their hierarchy. I want you to carry our dream onto that black sand. Go out there, scale the Arena, and win this entire tournament in front of everyone. Show the Holy City what we can actually do.”

Thomas sat perfectly still, a deep, chilling warmth spreading through his newly adapted, reinforced muscle fibers.

Thomas slowly rose from his bench, his stature unrefined but his presence now carrying a cold, unshakeable calm that caused the air in the empty classroom to turn freezing cold. He looked at Mina and Ryan.

”I’ll do my best,” Thomas said quietly.