Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School

My hawkish gaze never once left Auris Ping, even as Chiska shifted her attention towards the rest of class.

“Alright then! Let’s get everyone on the same page! First off, the basic rules!” Professor Chiska beamed out brightly. However, as the class began fixating on her unnecessarily complicated rulebook’s worth of expectations, I was instead turning inward towards my partner in crime.

“EVI?”

“Yes, Cadet Booker?”

“Initialize sports mode.” I ordered with a devious grin.

“...”

“Unrecognized command.”

“Alright, alright. Let me rephrase that. Ahem. Initialize High Performance Manual Maneuverability Mode.”

“Acknowledged.”

Several things started happening all at once.

[Alert! HP-MM Mode Active.]

First, there was a slight, but noticeable shift in my HUD. Which changed from the typical MIL-HUD on standby mode, to one more resembling what you’d find in the cockpit of a high-performance racing rig.

[Specify performance parameters.]

Next, came the absolute maze of customizability options, with nested menus and all sorts of virtual sliders, toggles, and raw numbers to toy around with.

“Preset values? Smart Auto-Adjustment? Or manual value settings?” The EVI quickly chimed in, really living up to the virtual assistant part of its mission specs.

“Preset, personal list, FROM-1.”

“Accessing FROM-1 [FREE RANGE OF MOTION PRESET 1]. Alert: This preset value is not rated for combat or active mission profiles.”

“I know. But this isn’t combat nor an active mission. It’s a contest. And I want it to be as fair as I can manage. I’m more than happy to unleash the full might of technology on Auris when competing with him on a magical playing field. But when it comes to just contests of dumb muscle? I’m not the one to just cheat.”

“... Acknowledged. Applying FROM-1 values.”

My body was immediately met with something it was spared from for most of the week — resistance. As I felt my joints stiffen, my muscles tighten, and the indescribable smoothness of movement that came with exoskeleton-enhanced powered movement, suddenly replaced with the familiarity of partially-powered exercises.

Something that both Captain Li and I absolutely loathed, but that was necessary to ensure I didn’t become too accustomed to having the suit move for me, instead of with me.

The suit was now operating just above the threshold where the armor’s weight would become an encumbrance, assisting me just enough that my movements were for all intents and purposes, as close to unassisted and unarmored as possible.

In short, the armor was neither inhibiting or enhancing my movements now.

This was raw human power, up against what Chiska promised to be raw alien power.

[Alert! Exoskeleton undervolting detected in servo groups, 1, 2, 3, 4—]

“Deactivate notifications.”

“Acknowledged. System alert summary: all motor systems operating at minimal assistance. Alert: Minimal assistance threshold reached. Operator now responsible for unassisted ROM.”

“Good! That’s the intent. Now, just be sure to override my settings if something goes wrong or something goes haywire. I’m fair, but not bullheaded and dumb.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Now, let’s warm up.”

What followed was a series of movements that came surprisingly naturally, as the armor twisted and bent in places that looked like it shouldn’t to the outside observer. So much so that quite a few became distracted from Chiska’s long-winded explanations, with their focus shifted almost entirely to me.

Though it was clear I wasn’t alone in this endeavor, as a small handful of other students seemed to have started their own warmups.

Thalmin, Qiv, and even Auris Ping of all people started their own little routines, either jumping in place, stretching, or performing a whole host of acrobatics in anticipation of what was to come.

Chiska, nodding approvingly at this, continued on unabated.

“You are to go as far as you can, as fast as you can, at the pace you wish to set for yourselves! I will not be babysitting you for you all should be able to handle a simple run! Aim to last as long as you can, however! This is as much a test about how you handle yourselves without magic, as much as it is about your physical potential! Be aware of your limits, and manage your energies well for both parts of the mana-less portion of our activities, as we will be transitioning from one to the other seamlessly! Be warned though, exhaustion can easily creep up on you without the aid of magic. So pace, pause, and pace! And remember, this is not a race!” The professor paused, before turning towards both Auris and I. “For the rest of you, that is. In which case, let us begin shall we?”

A single hand was raised from amidst the crowd, as Ilunor stared lazily at the professor, his arms crossed and his gaze filled with disinterest. “Professor, if I may?”

“Yes, Lord Rularia!”

“Will this exercise count towards our core evaluation?”

“Unfortunately not, Lord Rularia.” The professor answered with narrowed eyes and heightened suspicion. “It will, however, count towards your grades as a whole.”

“Thank you, professor.” Was Ilunor’s only response, my eyes narrowing as I attempted to gauge his angle, especially with his outfit consisting of riding boots and a stereotypically posh jockey getup that looked completely unsuited for running.

“Are there any more questions?” The professor turned to the rest of class with a bright smile, her excitement seemingly untempered by Ilunor’s strange and out-of-left-field question.

Not a single soul responded, with almost everyone’s eyes either firmly fixated towards their own lane, or each other.

Fingers twitched.

Bodies flinched.

And those students who had ears to emote with or tails to swish with, either stiffened up or double-downed on their movements.

“Alright then!” She spoke with finality, eliciting sharpened exhales and unsteady breaths.

“Ready!”

She raised her hand high.

“Steady!”

Her fingers contorted, poised for a snap.

“Go!”

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 100% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

A loud, thunderous, SNAP, erupted from between her fingers.

At which point, all hell broke loose.

And mistakes were quickly made.

One, after another, would-be sprinters and one-hundred-meter-dashers began zooming right off of the starting line.

My racing HUD, and its sports-mode reticles, began highlighting the positions of each of these students, as the EVI began playing the role of sports commentator and situational announcer — giving me a picture-in-picture view of the positions of all the students, their names, and their current speed and trajectory.

It was like having one of those live animation feeds of racers in a circuit up next to a sports broadcast.

Except instead of watching it from home… I was in the thick of it.

Several names started passing me by. Most I had no relation with, some that I vaguely recognized from the post-class meetups, like Cynthis, and many more that I had a bit more acquaintance with.

Etholin.

Gumigo.

And the entirety of the crocodile-person’s peer group for that matter, began absolutely smoking me.

As the distance between all of them, and a good chunk of the class, began climbing.

First by barely an arm’s length, then rapidly rocketing off into a good chunk of the field.

Eventually, despite my steady pace, some even reached the coveted 100 meters in front of me, completing their hundred meter dash and attaining victory over the foolish newrealmer!

Or at least, that would have been the case… if this were a 100 meter dash.

Things quickly took a turn for the worst following that point.

As legs started to wobble.

Arms started to flail.

Tails began swaying this way and that as those students that had committed to the wrong competition began to drop like flies.

THWUMP!

Down went the first student, a smaller, round orb of a mammal.

FWEEEEE!

A whistle sounded quickly after, as Chiska magically materialized right next to the student, and began the back and forth that would lead to their voluntary removal from the race.

“Ready to withdraw, Lord Grila?”

“Y-yes p-professor.” He huffed out, prompting the EVI to quickly scroll through the massive list of students on our screen, crossing out number 23 off the list.

[Competitor No. 23 has been eliminated]

“Poor choice of words, EVI.” I muttered out under a completely unstrained breath, keeping my eyes forward, and completely ignoring my own place in the race.

“Note to Operator: redundant verbal communication will result in overall decreased aerobic capacity. Mission commander is advised to keep all redundant communication to a minimum, to maximize probability of mission completion.”

“Okay, Aunty.” I chided back.

THWUMP!

Just as another student crumpled over into a pathetic pile of noble meat.

As if on cue, the feline professor arrived, her tail swishing every which way. “Ready to withdraw, Lady Ladona?”

“Mmm… yes professor.” The butterfly muttered out, prompting the EVI to strike yet another name from the list.

[Competitor No. 45 has been eliminated]

This would be a recurring pattern now, as I began jogging past the points in which these would-be dashers had fallen. As more—

[Competitor No. 47 has been eliminated]

—and more—

[Competitor No. 53 has been eliminated]

—and more—

[Competitor No. 77 has been eliminated]

—of my competition started falling to the wayside.

I pressed on unabated, maintaining a steady, casual, unbothered pace as I passed by gasping, heaving, and worn-out nobles; each one of them dropping like flies around me.

Soon enough, we started arriving at names that I recognized.

As Etholin was the first acquaintance to fall.

To his credit though, the ferret didn’t just crumple up into a ball. Instead, he wound himself down, taking heavy breaths as he did so, prompting the professor to pull out some sort of a magical implement to tap his chest with.

“Are you feeling okay, Lord Esila?”

“Y-yes professor. But… I would like to withdraw from this activity now please.” He spoke softly, prompting the professor to whisk him away back to the bleachers.

[Attention: Approaching half-way point; five-hundred meters.]

By the time we’d reached the half-way mark, about half of the participants had either tapped out or crumpled into a heap.

Gumigo, surprisingly, had recovered from his mistakes and had begun pacing himself. Though sadly, that wouldn’t last for long.

As he too succumbed to the error of his ambitions.

Though he wouldn’t be without his compatriots. As an increasing number of students began withdrawing near the three-quarters mark, each of them slowing down gradually, all of them huffing up a storm; barely any of them even physically cognizant by the time I’d casually made my way past them.

The EVI, of course, was more than happy to list each and every one of the fallen.

By the time the next hundred meter stretch was done, just over a handful of people were left in the ‘race’.

Two fell just before the three-quarters mark.

Thacea falling quickly after.

It was around this point, as we rounded the corner, that I realized that out of our peer group, only Thalmin and I remained.

Which prompted the question…

Just where was Ilunor?

The answer to that question came as quickly as it arose, as we finally reached the first lap and approached the starting line.

…

The Vunerian had never even left.

Moreover, about a quarter of the class had refused to even participate.

To add insult to injury however, Ilunor had somehow manifested a folding chair and a table out of thin air, sitting atop of it and enjoying what I could only describe as a full afternoon tea set.

Rostario sat opposite of him, as they began pointing their dainty binoculars at us as we passed them.

“I do not see the reason why you went through the effort of setting up for tea, Lord Rularia. This whole charade should be over in less than a few more laps!” The hamster spoke first, taking a sip of his tea as he did so.

“Intuition, my fair fellow. Intuition. Intuition and faith. That is, unless you think less of your group’s master — Lord Qiv Ratom?” Ilunor replied with a snide grin, just as we ran past them, and another student pulled out from the race.

[Attention: Lap One Complete; one-thousand meters.]

This left only four of us remaining.

With Qiv in the lead.

Auris right behind him.

Thalmin just short of Auris.

And me smack dab last.

All of them had settled into their own pace.

But I wasn’t the least bit bothered by being last.

This was a test of endurance after all.

And everyone had just bet against the very species evolved to do exactly that.

So while the rest of the remaining competition started hitting their second wall, I was just starting to hit my stride.

“EVI.”

“Yes, Cadet Booker?”

“Get my playlist going — hifi beats to jog to.”

“Acknowledged.”

The tempo of the music helped to ground my pace even further.

As I slowly, but surely, reached a pace that Aunty Ran, Captain Li, and practically everyone else I knew that either did PT or any sort of fitness collectively referred to as — cruise mode.

I found my body falling into its own rhythms of movement, interrupted only by the occasional alert from the EVI and the faltering of my opponents.

[Attention: Lap Two Complete; two-thousand meters.]

Qiv dropped out at just around the two-thousand meter mark. Our eyes locked, and for the first time, the armor’s ‘expression’ more or less matched my own. As those dazed and exhausted reptilian pupils unknowingly made contact with a set of nonplussed human eyes beneath the lenses.

Time slowed to a crawl at the moment I passed the gorn-like lizard, his expressive gaze going through so many emotions packed into a single look of what I could only describe as tentative disbelief.

Auris took the ‘lead’ by this point, a smug laugh erupting from his maw as he celebrated the defeat of his mortal enemy… only to look back to find another following closely behind.

At exactly the same spot.

And exactly the same pace.

With little to no hint at either slowing down or speeding up.

This seemed to manage to stir something within him, as I could practically see his fur standing on edge, and his muzzle curling to a look of shock.

He snapped his head back almost immediately, as I managed to just about catch his pupils dilating.

The reaction seemed to please Thalmin if his cackle was any indication, but it was clear that the wolf didn’t have much left in the race either, as he began panting up a storm.

This prediction proved to be true as the second lap drew to a close, and the third song on my playlist hit its climax.

[Attention: Lap Three Complete; three-thousand meters.]

The lupinor had slowed down considerably by this point, having sacrificed second place for third.

But, surprisingly, he still remained in the race. His eyes beckoned something of a friendly competitive rivalry as he pushed through what was clearly his limits in an attempt to stay in the race for as long as possible.

That spirit of tenacity burned brightly within the warrior wolf.

Which was more than I could say for Auris who seemed to burn through what little reserves he had by this point.

As his legs began to wobble.

His tail began to swish hard.

And his breaths became increasingly more erratic, air practically bellowing out his nose like the enraged bull he was.

HUFF HUFF HUFF

There wasn’t much left in him, and I was barely on my fifth song.

The man slowed down as we reached halfway through the third lap, going on the fourth.

And owing to his exhaustion, or perhaps anxious anticipation, he quickly shot his head back, probably in hopes of seeing an empty track, or at best, one inhabited solely by Thalmin.

Those hopes, as seen through his expressive eyes, were dashed the moment he saw me; still in the same track, still in the same pace, still exactly ten meters behind him as I had been since the start of the race.

My fifth song ended right about then.

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Local Time: 1000

Auris

That armor should have slowed her down.

The distances involved should have kept her at bay.

Something should have yielded by now.

Instead, she remained steadfast.

Her speed was unnaturally consistent.

Her pacing was impossibly steady.

And her gait… was insultingly relaxed.

My chest burned as I struggled to draw breath, all the while the newrealmer’s helmet betrayed nary a hint of a breath.

This fact, when coupled with the unnatural abyss that was her manaless enclosure, beckoned the likeness of a monster by any other name.

A monster that simply did not tire in its pursuit.

She was the embodiment of the eternal hunter.

A myth told to children by their mothers in times before Nexian enlightenment.

But I would not give in to the unholiness that was the creatures of the dark, especially those of insidious intent.

So I struggled on, persevering… with only my faith in the guidance of the eternal truths to keep my mind centered. My body be damned, the spirit and the will of his eternal majesty will see me through to the end.

I would only look forward from now on, refusing to acknowledge the monster that trailed behind me.

I would outlast it.

I had to.

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Local Time: 1000

Emma

“Evil was what they wrote on my hospital forms, while the nurses were too busy amputating my horns.” I hummed along with the seventh song on my playlist, just as a beep clued me into the next milestone of the marathon.

[Attention: Lap Four Complete; four-thousand meters.]

I found myself simply zoning out in my own lane now, going at my own pace, vibing, and thriving.

Time seemed to be a distant thought as I just went about my own business, occasionally noting Thalmin’s crawl behind me, and Auris’ increasingly frantic breaths in front of me.

The man was clearly trying his best not to turn around.

But it was clear his curiosities just kept getting the better of him, as he kept turning his head back every few steps; his expressions becoming more frantic with each successive check.

This eventually came to a head just as we reached the halfway marker however, as ragged breaths and worn-out huffs gave way to a slump of a slowdown.

A slowdown which he clearly attempted to recover from… but never really did; with his pace slowing further and further until long strides became nothing more than weak steps.

At which point, Chiska eventually apparated right next to him, garnering an absolute huff of frustration from the man.

“Are you ready to withdraw, Lord Ping?”

The man shook his head furiously at the question, as he clenched his muscles taut, his eyes drawn to my leisurely jog.

He took a step forward… only to wobble in the next, and outright fumble in the followup.

The bull fell flat into a heap of beef.

Or at least, he would have, if Chiska didn’t manifest a whole bunch of soft cushions in anticipation of his fall.

THUMPF!

He fell down into a pile of soft down-feather filled pillows as a result; generating a mess of feathers that blanketed the whole area.

“I will take that as a yes, Lord Ping.” The professor sighed, offering him a helping hand with one hand, whilst offering him a drink in the other.

[Competitor No. 02 has been eliminated]

I craned my head to meet Ping’s gaze following his formal withdrawal from the marathon.

At which point, I was met not with a look of contempt or scorn but outright anxiousness in the bull’s eyes.

A look of genuine disbelief.

A look of complete befuddlement.

A look of someone who’d not just been smoked, but trounced through as little effort as an afternoon jog.

Something that my body and its morphology was literally evolved to do, in order to get the better of beasts like Ping.

It was just extra icing on the cake that the current song had ended with the lyrics: “And that’s what it takes! Walking ten miles while your enemy runs one!”

Thalmin withdrew almost immediately after Ping, making it clear that he was more or less waiting to beat the bull, as he’d since reached his limits long before this point.

This left just me as the sole runner on this massive one-hundred lane track.

But whilst all eyes were seemingly waiting on me to stop, I merely continued. I saw no reason to stop now that I was in full swing, and while I could feel tiredness and exhaustion finally creeping up to me, it wasn’t like I was out of breath or sweating up a storm.

So I continued.

As a hundred meters became, two, then three, before giving way to four, five, and eventually an entire full lap.

[Attention: Lap Five Complete; five-thousand meters.]

A look of collective disbelief was shared amongst the entirety of the crowd.

Both Ilunor and Rostarion continued to watch, the latter’s eyes practically locked onto my movements, whilst the former enjoyed consuming an entire tray’s worth of snacks; stuffing his face full without the hamster even looking. “Vunerian intuition strikes again.” He muttered out following a gulp of tea, shooting the hamster a smarmy cocksure grin that the prince chose to ignore.

But the public’s reactions weren’t limited to the pair of would-be commentators, as errant whispers and gasps evolved into outright conversations and fervent speculations.

“She… she just bested Lord Ping.”

“No, Lord Havenbrock did!” Another voice argued, one belonging to a certain Cynthis who was very much getting uncomfortably close to the huffing prince.

“With all due respect, Lady Cynthis—” Thalmin managed out under an open-mouthed pant. “—but our fellow here is still quite accurate in his statements. Cadet Emma Booker has not only bested Lord Ping—” The Lupinor paused, taking several deep breaths as he struggled to recover. “—she’s still absolutely trouncing him.” He managed out with an open-mouthed grin. “Still, being the operative word here, as the sting of defeat grows with every step she takes, and every second she remains in the field.”

“Modesty is truly quite becoming of a Havenbrockian prince.” Lady Cynthis offered in the most flattering way possible, her eyes blinking excessively, leading to those fake lashes to flutter to and fro.

“Hm, that’s to be expected, because that’s all he can afford after all.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Modesty is often a virtue of the destitute, and our dear prince here is from a family of destitute—”

“You take that back Lord—”

“Enough!” Another voice emerged, this one, clearly belonging to that of Ilunor. “It has become clear that our earthrealmer peer here has demonstrated the ill fate that awaits those that challenge both the pride and prestige of our peer group.” The Vunerian announced cockily, garnering the ire of quite a few stares. “Any who wish to argue this fact are more than free to state their case.” He offered, granting the crowd an open floor.

Which few seemed to take, to little to no real constructive discourse other than your typical snide remarks of ‘primitive dispositions’ and ‘mud-hut hunter savage mentalities’.

This all changed when Auris Ping rose up to the plate, or rather, as he tried his darned best to stumble forwards towards the front of the crowd in lieu of a normal gait. “This… was clearly… the work… of… bad faith.” He managed out through huffy breaths. Yet despite the tiredness that colored his voice, I could feel the palpable rage behind each and every word. “The newrealmer is cheating!” He just about snarled out, his breaths forcing themselves through his nostrils as if trying to emulate the Vunerian’s soot-breath. “This petulant peasant’s abnormal run is not due to some inherent superiority, physical or otherwise, but as a simple result of some advanced form of trickery!” He spouted out, in perhaps the first cohesive sentence he’d managed since regrouping with the rest of the year group.

Several “Hear! Hears!” soon spread out amongst Ping’s most valiant supporters, which soon started to spread amongst the group.

This wouldn’t last long however.

“Are you putting forth a claim of athletic misconduct, Lord Ping?” Chiska finally entered the conversation, bringing it all to a crumbling halt.

“I… I am merely offering another argument to the newrealmer’s anomalous… dare I say it, almost elven-like capabilities, Professor Chiska.” Auris ‘clarified’, but sadly, I couldn’t really see Chiska’s reactions from here.

Her words said it all though.

“So… is that a yes, or a no, Lord Ping? Do you wish to challenge the integrity of Cadet Emma Booker’s current trial, thereby putting forth an official call for immediate disqualification from within the ancient Rite of Challenges?”

The bull paused, not so much out of fear, as it was an almost instinctive reaction to being cornered by two apex predators in the span of a mere few minutes. “I… I am merely—”

“Is it a yes, or a no, Lord Ping? This… really shouldn’t be a difficult question for someone so sure, now should it?” She pressed on, raising her voice to one of sincere intensity.

Silence was Ping’s only answer. Silence, along with tired and strained breaths.

“If you do wish to make a claim of Cadet Emma Booker’s resultant victory being a result of her utilizing underhanded tactics or foul play, then the sooner I receive an answer, the sooner I can make preparations.”

“Preparations? What for, professor?” Rostario blurted out innocently.

“Preparations for a rematch, Prince Rostarion.” Chiska answered giddily, with barely-contained excitement.

And despite my mana-less vision, I could still practically see the soul departing from Auris’ wide eyes and breathless muzzle as a result.

At which point, Chiska soon returned her full and undivided attention towards the bull. “For you see Lord Ping, should the claims of foul play hold water, a rematch should naturally arise on fairer terms. This is done in order to restore the accusor’s honor, to prove once and for all their dominance over the activity in question, and to reinforce the acusee’s folly.” Chiska clarified with finality, through a cheek-to-cheek cheshire-cat grin. “To restore balance, as all things should naturally be.”

Ping’s self-assured look of outrage had completely dried up, replaced entirely with a dour look of worry.

Silence dominated the air as the man struggled to get a response out.

At which point, I finally rounded the corner, managing to run straight past the crowd on an intercept course to make my stance known. “I’d welcome a rematch at any time, Lord Ping!” I shouted out with a snarky chuckle, slowing down my pace to more or less jog in-place. “I’ll even give you a bit of a head start this time around if you need it!” I added with a fangy grin, refusing to comment further, as I sped off at my regular pace and leaving him in the dust once more.

My rear-view camera recorded several instances of the man’s eyes twitching as a result, and a glare accompanied by huffy breaths.

Following which, in lieu of giving Chiska a definitive answer, he simply stomped off; taking his peers and fervent supporters with him.

“Such commoner behavior!”

“I cannot fathom the depravity!”

“Insolence of the highest order!”

“A truly reprehensible show of attitude!”

“We will remain by your side, always, Lord Ping!”

The voices and nametags came, all of which belonged to the man’s peer group, as well as the tortle-like-turtle and his entourage.

“Let her have her premature celebrations.” He announced amongst his gathered crowd. “What she does to me now, I will do unto her ten-fold.” The man spoke threateningly, with ominous undertones. “Mark my words.”

Soon enough, the man and his group broke away from the range of my long range acoustic sensors. At which point, attention quickly shifted to the student body, and the hundreds of concurrent conversations all happening at once.

I quickly zoned out following that.

Which proved to be a mistake.

“Cadet Emma Booker.” A voice suddenly shook me out of my reverie and the gluttonous number of picture-in-picture tabs, windows, and a whole host of other media bars. The surprise was enough for me to stumble a bit, but not enough to do more damage than that. “There is nothing left to prove, you have won this first challenge.”

“Oh, I wasn’t really hoping to prove anything, professor. I just… didn’t know where to stop, really.” I managed out in between breaths, sounding just barely winded, and causing some concern to manifest on the professor’s face.

“And when were you planning to stop, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I guess when I started feeling, like, really tired I guess?”

The professor cocked her head at that. “And how long do you expect that to take?”

“An hour? Maybe two or thereabouts?” I offered politely, which caused the professor’s eyes to narrow slightly.

“Can you truly sustain such a pace without the aid of magic?”

“I was trained to do so, professor.” I answered candidly.

“I would like to see a demonstration of that then.” The professor offered with a wide, fangy grin. “However, I am afraid we will need to schedule that for another time. Time is of the essence, after all, and I would rather we move forward.”

“As you wish, professor.” I acknowledged, slowing down incrementally until I finally found myself back at the starting line, facing a crowd who greeted me not with cheers or chants, but with wide-eyed glares and the occasional gasp.

Ilunor’s tea party seemed to have become a social gathering by that point, which garnered more than enough whispers at the behest of the talkative duo.

“She’s a beast.”

“Beast or not, she bested Lord Ping. Quite a tragedy for our dear and devout peer.”

“All the more reason why I believe him to be an inappropriate candidate for the Class Sovereign. Lord Ratom has demonstrated far more restraint when handling this newrealmer.”

“You say restraint, I see weakness and acquiescence.”

“Well, I see a bunch of slackers sitting about in physical education!” Chiska chimed in, clearly listening in to the crowd, all the while gesticulating wildly for the arrival of several gargoyles carrying unknown objects hidden beneath brown leather tarps.

The very same mystery artifices we saw being transported from Sorecar’s workshop just last night.

“Cadet Emma Booker!” She began, as I found the ground beneath my feet raising the both of us up and above the crowd. “I regret the haste and expediency by which I must hasten decorum, but your valiant demonstration of physical fitness leaves me no choice! Ahem! As head of the physical education department and as the presiding adjudicator of this physical education class and so on and so forth… I wish to officially crown you victor of the endurance trials in the magically unenhanced portion of today’s activities!” She beamed brightly, gesturing towards what appeared to be a late 19th, early 20th century baseball scoreboard at the very end of the stadium. One that now had my name proudly placed next to the list of ‘victors’ in the first category of today’s four trials.

“Congratulations! But I am afraid we have no time to waste on celebrations. So without further ado, let us move on to the strength portion of today’s magically unenhanced activities.”

Without much prompting, our platform descended, as the professor now shifted her attention over to the three gargoyles and their tarp-covered mystery objects. “Behold!”

The tarps were removed in rapid succession, revealing two sets of surprisingly familiar sports gear — javelins, and a series of weight lifting benches.

It was the third object however that proved to be the wild card here.

Heck, its bizarreness made me question how, or even if it can be used in a sport.

Because next to the benches and javelins, was what I could only describe as—

“Ah! Is the sword-in-the-stone challenge a common sight in your realm, Cadet Emma Booker?” Chiska preemptively asked, pointing at the setup.

“No… not unless your name’s Arthur…”