Whispers of Worlds Beyond: A Series-Chapter 120: Tuning Up [3]

The tension in the arena thickened as Marionette Florence lowered her raised hand, the eerie stillness returning to her posture.

Aiden leaned forward, watching carefully.

Xihir had managed to break free of her control, something no one had ever seen before. But he wasn’t celebrating. He wasn’t rushing to attack.

He was waiting.

Smart, Aiden thought.

But Marionette was smarter.

Xihir moved first, vanishing in a blink. His speed wasn’t supernatural, but his footwork was perfect. He wove through the battlefield with precise, fluid steps, circling Marionette in an erratic, unpredictable pattern.

Marionette didn’t react.

Her hands remained delicately clasped in front of her, long lashes lowered as if she found his efforts boring.

But Aiden knew better.

She wasn’t underestimating him, but instead, she was calculating.

Xihir leaped forward, testing her reach, and the moment his foot touched the ground...

He stopped.

His full-body froze, his limbs locked in place as though caught mid-motion.

The crowd gasped.

"She already got him," Adrian whispered.

"No," Aiden muttered. "He let her."

And he was right.

Because just as the realization settled in, Xihir moved again. His body twisted unnaturally for a split second before snapping back into control, breaking her hold once more.

Another gasp rippled through the stands.

Marionette exhaled softly.

Then... she lifted a single finger. And everything changed.

The battlefield rumbled.

Marionette tilted her head, and the shifting terrain of the Exploding Battlefield seemed to move with her. The ground beneath Xihir cracked, then rose like invisible hands were molding it into shape.

He dodged, flipping backward just as jagged rocks shot up where he had stood.

But Marionette wasn’t done.

She twitched her wrist, and the rock followed him.

Aiden barely had time to process what he was seeing.

She wasn’t just puppeteering Xihir.

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She was puppeteering the entire arena.

Xihir’s easy smirk flickered into a grimace as he landed, only for the ground beneath him to vanish.

A hole opened up beneath his feet, as if the earth itself had decided to betray him.

He twisted, trying to kick off from the air...

But his body froze.

Marionette’s strings caught him mid-air.

Xihir gritted his teeth, his void resonance flaring as he shattered her control again, dropping into the pit.

But the moment he broke free, something even worse happened.

The debris floating around the battlefield- jagged stones, uprooted tiles, the shattered remains of the stage- all moved at once.

Marionette snapped her fingers.

And the rubble rained down on Xihir.

Aiden flinched as the sound of rock colliding echoed across the arena.

Dust exploded from the pit, obscuring everything from view. The battlefield went completely still.

The crowd held its breath.

Then...

A faint groan.

As the dust settled, Aiden could make out Xihir sprawled across the ruined terrain, his body partially buried beneath the debris. His uniform was torn, and blood trickled down his temple.

His void resonance shimmered faintly around him, flickering weakly.

The announcer hesitated for only a moment before their voice rang out.

"Winner- Marionette Florence!"

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Marionette exhaled softly, lowering her hand. She didn’t spare Xihir a glance as she turned, her voluminous dress swaying elegantly as she strode away.

Aiden sat back in his seat, stunned.

He had thought Xihir had a real chance and that his ability to nullify her control would make it an even fight.

But he had underestimated her.

Marionette Florence wasn’t just a puppeteer.

She was a mastermind.

He wasn’t the only one who realized it. The murmurs among the audience, the way the upper years exchanged glances; it was clear.

Marionette hadn’t just won.

She had humiliated her opponent.

"This is what it means to be first place," Sevan muttered, still staring at the battlefield. "She controlled the arena itself… It didn’t even matter that Xihir could resist her power."

Ivara whistled. "Cold-blooded. Kinda love it."

Aiden didn’t respond. His fingers tapped against his knee as his thoughts swirled.

The difference between first years and upper years wasn’t just experience; it was something else.

They are a different breed.

The upper years weren’t just strong. They were ruthless.

Their battles weren’t just about winning. They were about domination.

First years still held onto hesitation, to rules, to the idea that a fair fight meant skill versus skill.

But the upper years?

They broke their opponents.

They didn’t just fight to win. They fought to establish control.

Aiden clenched his fists.

If he wanted to make it through the Solstice Trials, if he wanted to hold his own against people like Marionette, like Tachyon...

He had to be better.

The chill of the night air clung to their skin as Aiden, Adrian, and Sevan stood before Professor Anwar once again, their bodies aching from hitting the hoops the professor had told them to hit. But after witnessing the upper years fight, exhaustion wasn’t an excuse anymore.

They had seen the gap.

Now, they had to close it.

Professor Anwar wasted no time. As soon as they showed progress in hitting the rings, he shifted their training toward refinement.

"You’re improving," he admitted, "but raw talent only gets you so far. Strength without technique is nothing. We’re fixing that now."

With a flick of his fingers, the rings disappeared, and instead, new targets emerged: shifting dummies made of light and energy, darting unpredictably.

By now, they already knew what to do.

Anwar had taught them the foundation, drilled them on control, and refined their attacks.

The night air was thick with heat, mist, and shadows as they worked.

Sevan’s water spear had shape, weight, and precision. His problem wasn’t forming it anymore, but it was how to wield it seamlessly. Anwar made him adjust his stance, correcting the way he shifted his feet.

If Sevan didn’t move right, the spear would feel awkward, slowing him down.

"Keep your weight forward," Anwar reminded. "You’re not throwing it; you’re striking with it. Aim for speed. No wasted movement."

Sevan gritted his teeth, spinning the spear before thrusting it into one of the light constructs. It pierced through, dispersing the target into mist.

Adrian, meanwhile, was working on making his shadow-coated daggers more lethal. He had already gotten used to the eerie way the darkness clung to his blades, but Anwar wasn’t satisfied.

"Your slashes are good," Anwar said, watching him closely. "But your throws? Sloppy."

Adrian scoffed, flipping a dagger in his fingers. "I don’t miss."

"You don’t need to miss. You just need to not give your opponent time to react."

Adrian narrowed his eyes and, without warning, hurled a dagger at the nearest training dummy. The moment the blade touched the target, the shadow pulsed briefly, numbing the area before dispersing into the air.

Adrian’s grin widened.

"Oh, this is gonna be fun."

Then there was Aiden. His fire whip and sword combo had potential- if he could control the shifting balance between the two.

"Right now, your sword is unstable," Anwar told him. "That’s not a weakness- it’s an opening."

Aiden exhaled sharply, lashing out with the whip. It wrapped around a training dummy’s leg, yanking it forward. He swung his sword immediately after, but the blade wavered, the fire distorting at the last second.

Anwar frowned.

"Again."

Aiden gritted his teeth. Too slow. He needed to tighten the transition.

Whip. Pull. Slash.

Again.

Whip. Pull. Slash.

Each time, the movements became cleaner. The sword still flickered, but he was getting closer.

By the time Anwar finally called for them to stop, all three were exhausted. Their breathing was heavy, their bodies sore, but the difference was clear.

After training, they went back to their dormitories using the hidden path from their map. They moved quickly despite their aching muscles, their minds still wired from the session with Professor Anwar. They had no time to waste. Tomorrow was crucial, and the last thing they needed was to get caught sneaking around at this hour.

The passage was dim, only illuminated by a few flickering torches along the walls. The stone beneath their feet was cool, the air damp and heavy with the scent of earth and aged stone.

Aiden led the way, igniting a fire at hid palm. Adrian followed closely and Sevan trailed behind, his breathing steady but cautious.

When they reached the end of the path, the tall doors of the first-year dormitory stood before them. Just as Aiden reached for the handle, he suddenly stopped.

Adrian nearly bumped into him.

"What-"

Before he could finish, he saw it too.

A figure stood just outside the entrance, leaning against the stone wall.

Brown hair. Blue eyes. Uniform still crisp despite the late hour.

Adrian reacted instantly, his instinct to vanish into the shadows kicking in. But it was too late.

The boy had already seen them. His gaze locked onto them

with a glint of amusement like he had been waiting.

And then...

He smiled.

"Don’t worry," he said smoothly. "I won’t kill you."

Aiden’s breath hitched.

Sevan tensed.

Adrian froze.

Recognition clicked in all their minds at once. Lopt.

Lopt pushed himself off the wall, his smile never faltering as he tucked his hands into his pockets. "Relax, will you? I just wanted to ask how my favorite troublemakers are doing."

His voice was light, but there was always that mischievous undertone that made it hard to tell whether he was being sincere or just messing with them.

Adrian narrowed his eyes. "You waited for us just to ask that?"

"Of course." Lopt grinned. "And also to see if you’d be up for a little prank sesh tomorrow." He leaned forward slightly, like he was letting them in on a secret. "I have something big planned, and you three seem like the perfect accomplices."

"We have duels tomorrow." Aiden frowned. It’s not like he wanted to join Lopt if there weren’t, since that enthusiasm for pranks goes to Adrian.

Lopt raised an eyebrow. "Oh? All three of you?"

Sevan shook his head. "No. Just Adrian and me."

Lopt tilted his head, intrigued. "And who are the unfortunate souls you’re up against?"

"Shiloh."

"Ambrose."

Lopt let out a low whistle, clearly entertained. "Ah. That trio." He chuckled, his blue eyes gleaming.

"Do they bully you three, perhaps?"

Aiden hesitated before doing a small nod. Just a small one, careful not to overdo it.

Lopt’s grin widened when Adrian confirmed that Shiloh, Lochan, and Ambrose bullied them. But before he could say anything, Adrian casually added, "But we bully them back."

Lopt let out a sharp laugh, tilting his head back. "Oh, that’s rich!" He clapped his hands together. "So it’s not just suffering in silence, huh? You bite back. I like that." His blue eyes gleamed with mischief, and he suddenly leaned in, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper.

"Tell you what," he said, rocking back on his heels. "Since I can’t personally attend your little grudge matches tomorrow, how about I give you a warm-up?"

He raised a brow. "You and me- just for an hour. Call it… a pre-show."

Aiden narrowed his eyes. "You want to spar?"

"Why not? What’s the harm? You guys get extra practice, and I get a little fun. Everybody wins." He suddenly flicked his fingers, and in a swift motion, conjured a small illusion- an eerie, floating mask-like grin hovering in the air before vanishing. His voice turned teasing. "Unless… you’re scared."

Adrian snorted. "You wish."