ShadowBound: The Need For Power-Chapter 623: The Moments of The Test

The rest of the day unfolded with a strange swiftness, as though the academy itself had decided not to linger on the aftershock of Liam and Percy’s duel. In all four grand training halls, first- and second-year students cycled through their sparring matches under the watchful eyes of instructors and upperclassmen. The air in each hall crackled with mystic residue and competitive tension, the echoes of clashing affinities ringing against reinforced stone as students demonstrated just how far they had come in a single month of relentless training.

For many of them, that month had been brutal.

And it showed.

Movements were sharper. Spell formations were cleaner. Myst output was more controlled, more deliberate. Students who had once relied purely on raw affinity now layered tactics over instinct, weaving feints into their casting and forcing their opponents into unfavorable exchanges. The evaluation was no mere formality; it was a stage to prove growth, and no one wanted to appear stagnant after such an intensive regimen.

Though none of the matches quite reached the breathtaking extremity of the duel between Liam and Percy, several battles still managed to seize the attention of instructors and observers alike. Praise was given freely where it was earned, critiques delivered just as sharply, and names quietly noted by those who measured potential not only in power but in composure.

One match in particular stirred considerable interest: Sheila Granger versus De’Ain Looken, the third-year ranked second.

Due to Liam sparring with Percy—who had not been assigned as an evaluation opponent—had disrupted the intended balance of the testing structure. To correct the disparity and maintain fairness, the authorities resolved to offer another first-year the opportunity to face an upperclassman under similar restrictions. The choice had not taken long.

Sheila was selected.

To heighten the spectacle and properly assess her standing, De’Ain Looken was chosen as her opponent. The third-year accepted without hesitation, his calm confidence suggesting neither arrogance nor doubt—only quiet readiness.

Their match did not disappoint.

From the moment it began, Sheila moved with the grace of someone who carried both expectation and pride on her shoulders. Ice formed at her fingertips like obedient glass, water bending fluidly around her as if eager to respond to her will. She transitioned between the two affinities seamlessly, freezing torrents into jagged spears mid-flight and shattering them into glistening shrapnel that redirected in midair.

Her light magic, though not as refined as her elemental control, was applied with tactical intelligence. She used it to enhance visibility through swirling frost, to reinforce her defensive constructs, and even to create brief flashes that disrupted De’Ain’s line of sight at critical moments. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

She fought like someone determined not merely to perform well—but to remind everyone exactly why she had once held first-year rank one and why she was the likely candidate to reclaim it.

She was formidable.

Yet De’Ain proved why only Percy stood above him among the third-years.

Bound to the same fifty-percent limitation that Percy had endured, De’Ain never once appeared strained. His air magic was not loud or explosive at first glance; it was refined, layered, almost surgical. He did not simply summon gusts—he manipulated pressure. He altered trajectories invisibly. He turned Sheila’s own frozen projectiles against her by shifting the airflow around them at the last possible second.

Where Sheila constructed, De’Ain dismantled.

Where she surged forward, he redirected.

There were moments when her ice nearly trapped him, when water condensed into suffocating spirals meant to restrict his mobility. Yet each time, the currents shifted subtly, slipping him through narrow openings or lifting him just beyond her reach. He compressed air into unseen barriers that absorbed impact without visible strain, and at one point even created vacuums that caused her attacks to collapse inward before they could fully manifest.

It was not overwhelming dominance.

It was mastery.

The bout extended longer than many expected, and whispers circulated among observers that it might tilt in Sheila’s favor. But in the final exchange, De’Ain exploited a slight overextension in her offense. A carefully timed burst of compressed air struck at her flank, unbalancing her stance just enough for a follow-up gust to carry her backward.

She crossed the boundary, and victory was declared.

Though De’Ain stood as the winner, many called it a near thing. Sheila left the stage breathing hard but unbowed, her performance cementing her reputation rather than diminishing it.

The next match that commanded serious attention was one that required no narrative build-up.

Asher versus Chris.

Blue flame against lightning.

Rivalry against rivalry.

From the moment their names were called, tension saturated the air. The hostility between them had long since outgrown petty competition. Asher, still grappling with the glaring gap he had witnessed between himself and Liam earlier that day, carried frustration coiled tightly within him. Being paired with Chris offered him something he desperately needed—a target.

And beyond that, he simply despised him.

Chris, the Tempest Prince, held no fondness in return. While Liam occupied the highest tier of his resentment, Asher had earned his share through repeated slights and open disrespect. The match was, in Chris’s mind, an opportunity to reassert hierarchy and remind everyone—including Asher—why rankings had once favored him.

When the signal was given, neither held back in spirit.

Lightning tore across the stage in blinding arcs, thunder cracking against reinforced barriers as Chris demonstrated why his affinity placed him above many peers and even some upperclassmen. His control was precise; bolts did not merely strike—they curved, ricocheted, and multiplied mid-flight. Static saturated the air so thickly that hair stood on end among spectators.

Asher answered with fire.

Not ordinary fire.

Blue flames erupted from him like a living storm, hotter and denser than conventional blaze, consuming oxygen greedily as they roared outward. He did not rely on the inherent advantage of temperature alone; his control over the flames was terrifyingly deliberate. He shaped them into spiraling torrents, compressed them into focused beams, and detonated them in controlled bursts that forced Chris to defend rather than advance.

The stage became a war zone.

Lightning cleaved through pillars of flame only to be swallowed and dissipated by sheer heat. Blue infernos collided with electrified shields in explosive showers of sparks and embers. The magical barriers erected to protect the audience flickered violently, strained by the relentless destruction unleashed within.

At one point, a collision between a concentrated lightning lance and a condensed sphere of blue flame sent a shockwave that visibly warped the protective barrier, cracks spiderwebbing across its surface before stabilizing under reinforcement spells cast by instructors.

Neither combatant retreated.

Chris intensified his output, summoning a storm overhead that rained down controlled strikes in rapid succession, attempting to overwhelm Asher through sheer velocity. For a moment, it seemed to work.

Then Asher stepped through the lightning.

Flames coiled around him like armor, absorbing and dispersing electrical current as he forced his way forward with brutal determination. His counterattack was merciless—successive waves of compressed blue fire that battered Chris’s defenses without pause, each strike more forceful than the last.

The fight devolved into close-quarters combat amid chaos, lightning cracking at point-blank range while fire detonated between clenched fists. Both bled. Both burned.

But endurance favored one.

In the final exchange, Asher baited a high-output strike from Chris, slipped beneath it, and drove a concentrated blast of blue flame directly into Chris’s guard. The impact shattered what remained of his defense and sent him crashing to the stage floor.

Asher did not hesitate.

He followed through with a flurry of brutal, controlled strikes—enough to break resistance without crossing into lethal excess. The last blow landed cleanly, and Chris went limp.

Victory was declared as Asher stood over Chris with his chest heaving, blue flames slowly dying down around his body.

For the second time that day, the academy bore witness to a shift in standing that few would forget anytime soon.

Other students who caught the keen eyes of the instructors were those who, up until this point, had been underestimated—students whose potential had always been there, yet few truly believed in it or recognized its full breadth. Among them, Ariana Merdin stood out prominently.

During her sparring match, Ariana revealed the depth of her primordial prowess, demonstrating with clarity why she was the only primordial of her generation. Even without having fully awakened all of her elemental affinities, she displayed remarkable mastery over space, light, water, and fire, weaving them together with an elegance and precision that left her peers stunned.

Every motion, every manipulation of myst reflected not only control but an innate understanding of the elements themselves. Those who had once dismissed her as unworthy of Mystica’s tutelage found their judgments challenged, and in many cases, reconsidered entirely. She moved with a quiet authority that demanded attention, proving decisively that talent and potential could not be hidden, no matter how subtle the student had appeared previously.

Beside her, Dylan also made a statement.

True to the reputation he had earned during the war for his courage and tenacity, Dylan ensured he did not squander the chance to shine. Though he maintained his characteristic humor and irreverent nature, his sparring match revealed why he was considered the premier archer among his peers.

His precision was matched only by his ingenuity, as he manipulated steel magic with a deftness that few could replicate, each arrow a calculated strike and demonstration of complex affinity mastery. His performance drew the attention of instructors and upperclassmen alike, leaving no doubt of the skill that had earned him recognition and praise.

In addition to Ariana and Dylan, several other students distinguished themselves through remarkable growth and dedication. Charlotte moved with calculated efficiency, demonstrating refined control over her chosen affinities. Maxwell displayed strategic intelligence and adaptability, managing to turn even minor advantages into decisive maneuvers. Erica’s mastery over her magic carried newfound fluidity and focus, while Lucian exhibited a combination of raw power and disciplined technique that suggested significant untapped potential.

Together, these students set themselves apart from the broader cohort, making clear that the one-month intensive training had not only honed their skills but elevated them to a level that demanded attention and respect.

Gradually, one by one, each student took their turn on the sparring mats, their matches serving as both evaluation and demonstration of growth. By the time the final bell of the evaluation period sounded, the sparring matches were complete, and the test itself had concluded. The academy had witnessed a day of revelations, triumphs, and unexpected displays of talent, each student leaving the mat not just tested, but transformed in the eyes of those who observed.