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The room goes quiet in anticipation. Then someone begins a new chant. Lower. Heavier.

"Cor-vell." Rhyven does not move. The chant spreads. "COR-VELL."

Dax points toward him from the pit. "Come on."

Rhyven drinks. "No."

Dax grins. "You're scared."

Rhyven doesn't move. "No."

"You look scared."

Rhyven raise an eyebrow. "I look annoyed."

"Same face." The crowd laughs. "Unless the Trial exhausted you." He adds.

That does it. Not because Rhyven appears offended. Because he sets his drink down. Slowly. The entire room reacts. Students crowd closer to the pit. Coins change hands.

Rowan appears beside me. "I've recovered financially." She says.

"How?" I ask.

"I borrowed."

"From whom?"

"You."

I check my pocket. Empty. "Rowan." I warn her.

"Rhyven or Dax?" She asks.

"You stole from me."

"I'll return your winnings." She grins.

"That depends on winning."

"Exactly. Choose."

I look toward the pit. Dax is large. Broader through the chest. Wolf inheritance is prohibited, but years of training remain. Rhyven steps over the wall. He pulls his shirt over his head. The room becomes noticeably louder. Oh. That is... Unfortunate.

Tattooed lines move across his shoulders, down his ribs and over both arms. Some resemble flames. Others markings I do not recognize. He is built like a fucking wall. Scarred enough to prove the Academy has demanded a great deal from him. Rhyven tosses his shirt directly at Soren. Soren catches it.

Dax points. "Favoritism."

"You smell worse." Soren answers.

The bell rings. Everything changes. Dax attacks first. Fast. Rhyven pivots. The punch passes his jaw by inches. No magic. No enhanced speed. Still, he moves with startling precision. Dax follows with a sweep toward his legs. Rhyven jumps it, lands and drives one shoulder into Dax's chest. They hit the ground together. The crowd roars. Dax hooks an arm around Rhyven's neck. Rhyven twists free before the hold closes and rolls to his feet. No wasted movement. No performance. They know each other's habits. That makes the fight faster. Harder. Every attempted strike already anticipated.

Dax grins after Rhyven blocks a punch. Rhyven says something. Dax laughs. Then drives a fist into his ribs. Rhyven's expression tightens. He answers with an elbow to Dax's shoulder.

Rowan shouts beside me. "Hit him!"

"Which one?" I ask.

"Yes!"