Olmo pushed the door to his office open.
The room greeted him with stillness.
Quiet.
Undisturbed.
He stepped inside slowly, closing the door behind him with a soft click. For a mont, he didn’t move any further. He just stood there, letting the silence settle around him, letting the weight of the eting finally begin to lift.
Then—
He walked to his desk and sat down.
A breath escaped him.
Long.
Heavy.
Relieved.
"...Finally."
He leaned back slightly in his chair, one hand resting against his temple. The eting had taken longer than expected. Discussions, disagreents, adjustnts—too many voices trying to shape one outco.
But now—
It was done.
The tournant date had been decided.
One week.
Seven days.
That was all that remained.
His eyes shifted to the papers on his desk.
Details.
Logistics.
Everything that would make the event possible.
The academy grounds would serve as the main venue.
That decision alone had carried weight.
Hosting ant responsibility.
Other academies would be arriving—students, instructors, officials. Accommodations had to be arranged. Rooms prepared. Food organized. Training areas managed.
Everything had to be flawless.
There was no room for error.
Because this wasn’t just a tournant.
It was a statent.
A display of strength.
Of system.
Of reputation.
Olmo exhaled again, this ti more controlled.
All that remained now—
Was to inform the students.
Especially his class.
Class One.
A faint smile crossed his face.
They would be excited.
Of that, he had no doubt.
After a few more monts, he stood up.
Straightened his posture.
Then turned and walked out of the office.
Class One was already settled when he entered.
The mont he stepped through the door, the atmosphere shifted.
Students noticed imdiately.
Conversations quieted.
Attention focused.
Olmo didn’t rush.
He walked to the front of the class, his steps steady, his presence enough to command silence without effort.
By the ti he stopped—
Everyone was watching.
Waiting.
"I have news for you all," he said.
That was enough.
A low murmur spread instantly across the room. Students exchanged glances, leaned slightly toward one another, whispers beginning to form.
Important.
That much was clear.
Olmo let it continue for a second—
Then spoke again.
"The dates for the tournant have finally been confird."
The reaction was imdiate.
The murmurs grew louder. So students sat up straighter, others leaned forward, eyes sharpening with interest.
Excitent.
Anticipation.
A bit of tension.
All of it mixed together.
Olmo continued.
"It will begin in one week."
That did it.
The room erupted—not into chaos, but into energy. Voices rose, conversations sparked instantly, the weight of what was coming settling into everyone at once.
One week.
Not months.
Not distant.
Close.
Very close.
Olmo allowed the reaction.
For a mont.
Then—
"That will be all."
Just like that.
No long speech.
No unnecessary buildup.
He turned—
And walked out.
Leaving them with the information.
And everything that ca with it.
By evening—
The academy had changed.
Completely.
The first buses arrived just as the sun began to lower.
Large.
Marked.
Carrying more than just passengers.
They carried competition.
Word spread quickly.
Students began leaving their dorms, gathering in open areas, lining the paths and open spaces near the main entrance.
Curiosity pulled them out.
Excitent kept them there.
Jelo stood among them, with Atlas and Mira nearby.
They didn’t push forward.
Didn’t need to.
From where they stood, they could see everything clearly.
The first group stepped out.
Students from another academy.
Their uniforms were different—structured, sharp, distinct in design. Even their posture carried sothing different.
Discipline.
Control.
They didn’t look around much.
Didn’t react to the crowd.
They moved like they were already used to being watched.
Another bus arrived.
Then another.
More students.
More variation.
So stepped out confidently, scanning their surroundings with sharp eyes, asuring everything. Others moved more casually, talking among themselves, seemingly relaxed despite the environnt.
Jelo observed quietly.
Carefully.
There was a lot you could tell—
Just by looking.
So had faces that imdiately stood out.
Sharp features.
Focused eyes.
The kind of look that suggested experience.
Others didn’t look like much at all at first glance.
Normal.
Unassuming.
But Jelo didn’t ignore them.
Those were often the dangerous ones.
A group passed by, laughing lightly among themselves.
Another walked in complete silence.
One student adjusted his gloves slowly as he stepped down, his expression unreadable.
Another stretched as if preparing for a fight that hadn’t started yet.
Mira spoke quietly.
"...They’re different."
Atlas nodded.
"Yeah."
There was no arrogance in his voice.
No dismissal.
Just observation.
"These aren’t the sa people we’ve been fighting."
Jelo didn’t respond.
But he agreed.
Another bus door opened.
This ti—
The students who stepped out carried sothing heavier.
Not physically.
But in presence.
They didn’t move casually.
Didn’t speak imdiately.
Their eyes moved first—scanning, assessing, taking everything in.
The crowd.
The academy.
The other students.
Everything.
Jelo’s gaze sharpened slightly.
These ones—
Were dangerous.
Around them, the academy buzzed with energy.
Groups ford.
Students whispered.
Compared.
Judged.
So pointed out specific individuals.
Others simply watched.
"They look strong," Atlas said quietly.
Mira didn’t take her eyes off the group.
"They are."
The sun dipped lower.
The light shifted.
But the movent didn’t stop.
More arrivals.
More faces.
More unknowns.
By the ti the last bus arrived—
The academy no longer felt like just one school.
It felt like a gathering point.
A stage.
Jelo exhaled slowly.
One week.
That was all the ti left.
And now—
They weren’t just preparing in isolation anymore.
The competition was here.
Real.
Visible.
Close.
Atlas folded his arms.
"So... this is it."
Mira nodded slightly.
"No turning back now."
Jelo looked ahead.
At the students.
At the unknown opponents.
At the ones who would stand against him soon.
Deep inside—
The draconic essence stirred.
Not wildly.
Not uncertain.
But steady.
Ready.
The tournant had begun—
Long before the first fight.
And everyone there knew it.
The tournant was now becoming more and more realistic
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