Extra's POV: I am the Sixteenth Son

The morning felt wrong. The wind carried a harsh chill that bit through clothing and made everyone walk a little faster to escape it.

Ares was already up, having trained for four straight days now at the Echovault. Always the same echo. Always at novice level. Always ending the same way, with him flat on his back, staring at the ceiling while that damn spider dissolved into light.

His classmates had stopped by the Echovault to train too. They'd found him there, of course, locked in his endless battle with the Gloomantula. Lysandra and Sylas had decided to give it a try themselves.

For Sylas, it was almost insulting how easy it looked. The guy just waltzed in, used his wind element like he was conducting an orchestra, and completely destroyed the echo without breaking a sweat. Show-off.

Lysandra, on the other hand, hit the same brick wall that Ares kept running into. She lasted maybe thirty seconds longer than him before getting webbed to the floor like a caught fly. After that humbling experience, she made up her mind to do more training. At least Ares wasn't the only one getting his butt kicked.

Maelia focused on sharpening her bow skills instead. Smart girl. Apparently, Sinclair still gave her lessons even though Jareth had stopped teaching Lysandra and Ares. Lucky her, she got to avoid the daily dose of spider-shaped humiliation.

Right now, Ares was meditating in their dorm room. He'd managed to break through to the mid-stage of the intermediate rank while battling the Gloomantula. Not that it helped him win, but hey, at least getting beaten up was making him stronger.

Roul sat cross-legged beside him, also meditating. Ever since he'd started this routine with Ares, things had become easier for him. Way easier. He'd shot up to the peak of intermediate rank just from their sessions together. For that, he was grateful to his roommate.

Which made it hurt even more, knowing there was nothing he could do to protect Ares from what was coming.

"Ares?" Roul called out, breaking his own concentration.

"Hmm?" Ares responded without opening his eyes. He'd gotten so good at gathering mana that he could hold a conversation while meditating. Show-off number two.

Roul bit his lip, worry written all over his face. "Can you try to make it back earlier today? Before the curfew bell sounds? I need help with something."

Truth was, Roul had asked Ares to come back because something was eating at him. He knew Vael well, too well. And when Ares mentioned that Vael had approached him yesterday, Roul's stomach had dropped. Vael was impatient, the kind of guy who'd rather act than think. If he was making moves, it would be soon. Probably during curfew, when only the Elite Ten could move around freely.

And Vael was definitely one of the Elite Ten.

"Huh! I'll try to," Ares replied, finally opening his eyes and stretching. "I have training around that time, but I'll see what I can do."

"Training freak," Roul said with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood as they both got ready for their daily routines.

At least if Ares was going to get himself killed, he'd die doing what he loved, getting beaten up by simulations of magical creatures.

---

In the year-two classroom, all four trainees sat in their usual spots. Even Sylas, the class captain, was there, which was saying something since he usually acted like he had better places to be.

Standing at the front of the class, arms folded and crimson eyes scanning each student like a hawk, was Veltrissa. Her presence filled the room like smoke, you couldn't ignore it even if you tried.

She'd come for one thing: to give them the details of their first real test as second-years.

"First off, it's good that you're all on time," she began, her voice carrying that tone teachers used when they were about to ruin your day. "I'm happy I don't have to wait for stragglers like I do with the other classes."

The silence in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"I'm sure your class captain has already told you about the tests you'll be taking in your second year," Veltrissa continued, pacing slowly. "Unlike your first year, which was all training and fun, you'll be tested from now until you graduate. This way, we'll know if you're improving or if you've hit a wall and need to be... redirected."

She paused, letting that sink in. Being a Grandmaster rank meant nothing escaped her notice, not the nervous twitches, not the way Maelia was unconsciously gripping her bow, not even the tiny smile that crossed Sylas's face when she'd praised their punctuality.

"Your first test will be a group exercise," she announced, and Ares felt his stomach drop. "Simply put, you'll be split into two teams, A and B. You'll face hordes of the same echo. Thirty at most."

Thirty? Ares could barely handle one.

"Oh, and here's the fun part," Veltrissa added with a smile that definitely wasn't friendly. "Your mana will be restricted. You'll have to rely on just your talents and fighting skills."

The room erupted.

"That's not fair!" Lysandra burst out.

"How are we supposed to…" Ares started.

"Thirty echoes without mana?" Maelia squeaked.

Even Sylas looked less confident than usual.

Then the temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees. It felt like someone had grabbed their hearts and lungs and squeezed. Hard.

"Did you forget I was still here?" Veltrissa asked quietly.

She hadn't even released her full aura, just let a tiny bit of what she was holding back leak out. It was like getting a glimpse of a dragon through a keyhole.

The chatter died instantly.

"Good. Now, we'll divide you into teams, starting with the class captain."

Sylas stood up, his mind racing. This was strategy time. He'd considered Ares a rival ever since their class captain selection match, ever since Ares had nailed him with that Fire Bolt. He wanted to beat Ares with his own power, which meant he couldn't pick him as a teammate.

That left the girls.

Lysandra was grumpy and her fighting stance needed work, but she was strong and good at close combat. Maelia was a ranged fighter, getting better with her bow every day. Normally, he'd pick the archer for balance, but Sylas could handle mid-range attacks himself. He needed someone who could charge in and take hits while he worked his magic.

"I choose..." Sylas paused, looking between them. "Lysandra."

Lysandra's was as blank as a white bored with no reaction.

That left Ares and Maelia as a team by default. Ares looked at his new partner, who was currently trying to disappear into her chair.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "I'll probably get us both killed before you have to do anything scary."

"That's... not as comforting as you think it is," Maelia whispered back.

Veltrissa gave them a few final instructions before leaving. Teams were set, and now they had to figure out how to work together without getting slaughtered.

When class ended, Ares headed straight for his usual spot.

The Echovault was calling.

---

The Echovault waited like an old friend who enjoyed watching you get beaten up.

Cold air rolled across the stone floor as Ares stepped into the arena chamber for what felt like the hundredth time this week. After every session his body was a map of pain. bruises stacked on bruises, burns layered over older scars, muscles that screamed every time he moved.

But none of that mattered.

He was getting closer. He could feel it.

Ethan didn't bother with small talk anymore. He just slid the purple core into the ring socket and gave a small nod. They both knew the drill.

The hexagonal platform blazed to life, and that familiar electric buzz filled the air. Mana surged through the ancient symbols, and once again, the Gloomantula began to form. Heavy legs clicked into existence, and shadow bled down from the ceiling like liquid darkness.

Ares didn't blink.

No fear. No doubt.

Just cold, hard focus.

The moment the simulation fully activated, Ares exploded into motion. He dashed left without hesitation, no more testing, no more feeling out the enemy. This was pure muscle memory now.

The spider dropped from the ceiling, its massive bulk crashing into the stone exactly where Ares had been standing a heartbeat before. Dust and debris flew everywhere, but Ares was already moving. He spun, his sword singing through the air as he sent a crackling arc of lightning at the creature's exposed flank.

CRACK!

The Gloomantula jerked and hissed, its movements stuttering for just a moment. Ares pressed his advantage, diving forward with Static Body engaged. The world slowed around him as he sliced through a web-strand that had been aimed at his arm, then launched a cluster of ice shards at the echo's chest.

The shards shattered against its armored shell, but the impact was enough to slow the creature down. Ares used the opening to reposition, rolling between its legs and coming up behind it.

Every second felt as important as the last.

Every heartbeat was a counted.

The Gloomantula vanished upward, blending perfectly with the ceiling shadows. But Ares was ready this time. He pressed his hand to the floor and channeled fire through it, not an attack, but a beacon. Bright flames erupted upward, illuminating the chamber like a torch.

There, the shimmer of silk above!

Ares hurled a fireball at the web cluster. The flames caught and spread, turning the invisible strands into burning rope. The Gloomantula screeched and dropped, its stealth ruined.

Ares was waiting.

"Fire Bolt!"

The golden blaze roared forward like a comet, catching the creature square in its face. The Gloomantula staggered, legs scrambling for purchase on the smooth stone. Smoke rose from its burned face.

Ares charged, sword raised high, victory so close he could taste it…

And then he felt the tug.

One strand of web, nearly invisible, had caught his ankle.

The world tilted.

Ares hit the ground hard, his breath knocked clean from his lungs. Stars exploded behind his eyes. The Gloomantula was already recovering, its burned face turning toward him with something that might have been amusement.

One massive leg slammed down. Ares rolled desperately, feeling the wind from the impact. Another leg came crashing toward his ribs. He thrust upward blindly, lightning crackling from his fingers, and scrambled to his feet.

But he was a heartbeat too slow.

The creature lunged with all eight legs, mandibles spread wide.

Just before the killing blow could land, red light flashed across the ring. The fail-safe activated, and the simulation shattered into a thousand points of falling light.

Ares stood there, gasping, one boot still smoking from the attack that had almost ended him.

So close.

He dropped to one knee, fists clenched tight enough to draw blood. Sweat poured down his face, mixing with the tears of frustration he refused to shed.

So damn close.

He'd lasted longer than ever before. He'd pushed the spider to its limits, burned its face, ruined its stealth. If not for that one last web strand…

His grip tightened on his sword hilt until his knuckles went white.

"I almost had you," he whispered to the empty air where the Gloomantula had been.

Then he stood, legs shaking, and walked toward the exit.

He'd be back tomorrow to finish it.

"Shit!" Ares shouted suddenly, remembering Roul's request. "I was supposed to be back early!"

He started running.

---

The bell rang.

Its deep, resonant chime echoed through every corridor and courtyard of the Cradle like the voice of some ancient god. One long note that meant the same thing it had meant for centuries: lights out, doors closed, no wandering.

For every student below the Elite Ten, it was law. Break it, and you'd face punishment that made extra training look like a vacation.

But some people were above the law.

At the northern perimeter of the main grounds, where the dorm wings met the outer training buildings, two guards leaned against their spears, bored out of their minds. Night patrol was always the same. Stand around, look official, try not to fall asleep. Nothing ever happened during curfew.

Then footsteps echoed on gravel.

Juno de Eisenklinge emerged from the shadows, his face wore its usual expression of smug confidence.

"Evening, gentlemen," he said smoothly. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

The older guard straightened, squinting in the dim light. "Juno? What do you want. What are you doing out here?"

Juno produced a scroll from his cloak, marked with red wax and bearing an official-looking seal. "Direct orders from the Matron herself."

The younger guard leaned forward to get a better look, but Juno didn't hand it over.

"She needs the Vault perimeter cleared for the night, i was asked to bring it to you while i headed for my usual night training." Juno continued, his voice carrying that tone people used when they were doing you a favor. "Special evaluation protocol. You know how the finalist assessments work, all very secretive, very important."

The older guard frowned. "We weren't informed about any…"

"I'm informing you now," Juno interrupted, stepping closer. His smile was still friendly, but there was something sharp behind it now. Something that made both guards shift uncomfortably. "If there's a problem, you're welcome to wake the Matron and ask her personally."

Neither guard moved.

Juno let the moment stretch, then casually pulled out a small leather pouch, Vael had given it to him just in case the guard proved hard to get. He tossed it to the younger guard, who caught it instinctively. The pouch landed with a solid clink, definitely not just coins.

"If you're looking for what to do,," Juno said, his smile widening. "Go check the north towers. Double-check those weapon lockers while you're at it. Real quiet work. Real easy money."

The guards exchanged glances. The younger one was already tucking the pouch away.

Finally, the senior guard sighed. "We'll log the transfer."

"Excellent," Juno said with mock gratitude, giving them a shallow bow. "I'll hold down the fort here till the inspection team arrives. Make sure no one wanders where they shouldn't."

As the two guards disappeared into the darkness, Juno stood alone in the shadowed corridor. The cool night wind brushed against his face, carrying the scent of approaching rain.

He lifted his hand, tapping the ring on his finger and bringing it close to his mouth.

"All clear," he whispered into the enchanted device. "The guards have been handled."

Somewhere deeper in the Cradle, pieces were moving on an invisible board.

And Ares Eisenklinge was walking straight into the trap, completely unaware that his world was about to change forever.

The first move had been made.

– – –

A/N – Was it fire or mid? Don't just vanish—powerstone, comment, review. Let me feel your presence.