Lilaâs average matched Jorenâs:
4.3
.
Class Câs platform buzzed with disbelief, some students exchanging uneasy glances, others muttering under their breath.
Their smug veneer was cracking, exposed by the stormâs unforgiving truth.
Veyra, a skinny girl with stringy hair, stepped up next, wiping sweat from her brow.
Her hands shook as she aimed, her spells faltering in the windâs grip.
Snap.
Fourth ring, a lucky hit.
5
.
Thud.
Fifth ring, barely clinging.
2
.
Clatter.
The final bead veered wildly, vanishing into a warded trench with a pathetic spark.
0
.
Class Câs section sighed, a few even laughing bitterly at their own.
Their pride was unraveling, and the arena saw it all.
From Class Dâs rickety corner, Eva leaned forward, her dark blue hair plastered to her damp cheeks, pink streaks glowing under the arenaâs light.
Her knit top clung to her full chest, soaked and sticky, outlining every curve as she grinned.
"Oh, come onâtheyâre falling apart!" she said, her voice sharp with glee, green eyes blazing with triumph.
Oliviaâs soft laugh broke her usual calm, her shoulders tense but relief softening her hazel eyes.
Her charcoal-gray pants hugged her hips, damp with sweat, as she leaned back.
"We almost look stable next to them," she murmured, her wavy bob swaying.
Viora and Myra stood, their skirts clinging to their thighs in the humid air, red and black lace peeking as they moved.
"Shouldâve seen them wobble," Viora said, folding her arms, her green ponytail whipping. "Like theyâve never seen wind before."
"Like fawns in a gale," Myra added, her brunette curls bouncing as she flashed a playful grin, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief.
Their laughter echoed over the wind, raw and defiant, a blade of taunt to shake the Class Câs performance.
Kiara strode to the front of Class Dâs stand, her dark bangs plastered to her forehead, her tight knit top and skirt absorbing the arenaâs light like a void.
Her black lace panties flashed briefly as she leaned forward, her lithe frame radiating reckless energy.
Her eyes locked onto Caelum from Class B, his tousled hair catching the breeze, his sharp jawline drawing her gaze.
Admiration burned in her stare, hot and unapologetic.
She leaned toward him, her voice carried by the enchanted winds, sultry and commanding.
"Your Class B boys better brace themselvesâthis storm isnât over." Her words were a challenge, laced with a seductive edge that made the air between them crackle.
Caelumâs grin flashed, his heart racing as he met her gaze, caught off-guard by her bold, fiery energy.
The crowd nearby buzzed, some whispering, others chuckling at the brazen flirtation playing out in the stormâs chaos.
Kiaraâs laughter rang out, lethal and intoxicating, a wildfire that promised to burn through anyone who dared underestimate her.
She tossed her head, her bangs falling back, and shot Caelum a wink that left him blinking.
Lor watched from his cracked bench, slouched as always, his black hair falling messily over his hazel eyes.
A faint glow of amusement flickered in his gaze, subtle as a shadow.
He didnât look away from Kiara once.
Her flirtation with Caelum, her fierce posture, the way she owned the arenaâs chaosâshe wasnât just casting spells.
She was wielding power, raw and untamed.
His grin softened, a crack in his lazy facade.
His eyes lingered on her, not as a prophet but as a man intrigued by a flame that refused to be tamed.
Nellie sat at the edge of her seat, her blouse soaked with sweat, clinging to her curves, her big ass brushing the benchâs splintered edge.
Her gray eyes darted between Class Câs faltering shots and Kiaraâs reckless grace, her fingers gripping her bead so tightly her knuckles whitened.
Her thick thighs tensed, white lace peeking as she shifted nervously.
Myra leaned beside her, her elbow brushing Nellieâs arm in gentle reassurance.
"You ready to own the storm?" she murmured, her voice warm but teasing.
Nellie swallowed, her braids swaying as she nodded.
"I think..." Her voice was soft, but a spark of determination burned beneath it, growing brighter with every faltering shot from Class C.
The arena trembled, the scoreboard flashing Class Câs dismal
4.1
average.
Spectral ravens flapped overhead, carrying news of the stumble to the noble boxes.
Vendors paused, gloved hands mid-sale, then roared: "Class C falters! Worst performance of the year"
The arenaâs magic pulsed visibly now, mana vines glowing in sync with the crowdâs surge, their light flickering like a heartbeat.
The scoreboard blinked, its glyphs searing Class Câs wobbling results into the coliseumâs memory.
Class Dâs corner hummed with electricityâmockery, hope, adrenaline crackling like a live wire.
Kiara shot Caelum another wink, her wildfire grin unyielding.
Class C sank into uneasy silence, their platform a storm of whispered doubts.
Below it all, Class Dâs inner circle braced, sweat-slick and hearts pounding.
It was their turn next.
Jorenâs voice slithered across the wind, his slicked-back hair whipping wildly as he leaned over Class Câs platform.
"Your class couldnât hit a fly at ten meters, and now youâre gambling on
distance
?" His sneer was a calculated barb, payback for Class Dâs earlier mockery, aimed to shatter their fragile momentum.
Lilaâs sharp laugh followed, her ponytail snapping like a flag.
"Keep dreaming, rejects!" she called, her voice cutting like ice shardsâcold, brittle, but piercing.
Class Câs eyes gleamed with malicious glee, their taunts rattling Class Dâs unruly minds, sowing doubt in the weaker hearts.
The pigtail blonde stepped to the casting line, her hands shaking, her tight uniform straining as she tried to steady herself.
Her first bead hissed sideways, caught in the gale, barely grazing the outer ring.
2
.
The redhead followed, her curls a tangled mess, her shot even worseâa wild miss that vanished into the wards.
0
.
Her third clipped the outermost ring, a pitiful, but her best,
3
.
The scores werenât enough to silence the snickers rippling from Class Câs platform.
Taunts erupted louder, Jorenâs laughter booming.
"Thatâs your best? Pathetic!" Class C leaned forward, their eyes glinting like predators sensing blood.
The blonde and redhead slunk back to their seats, faces burning, their
0
s and
2
s a brand of shame.