Why did they have to stink like that?

The Bradford pears were in full bloom. Equal parts beauty and stink. They were usually the first thing to flower, and the white blossoms reminded me of a wedding. The smell was another matter entirely. Rotten fish, mostly.

I was hanging back in the school pickup line, which meant the whole place had the fragrance of regret and bad decisions. Breathing through my mouth, I tried to pretend it wasn’t bothering me; pretend it wasn’t a little on the nose for where my life was at.

I waited to pick up Harper from school. This would be the last time for a week; she was heading to her mother’s tonight for her week of custody. This meant a long, quiet stretch ahead of me. I sort of dreaded these Fridays. I had plans for the night, which helped, but after that, it was all work, sleep, repeat until she was back.

Technically, the school wanted us in cars, not milling around under the Bradford pears, but every parent here ignored that rule the second spring arrived.

At least I wouldn’t be out here with this smell for a week. Thank God for small miracles.

Also, a week without Harper. I’d rather deal with the smell.

It also meant not getting to see Anna Whitford, the woman who somehow volunteered for everything and still looked unruffled. She was the mother of my daughter’s best friend, so we often ended up sharing space.

Anna was why I stood by those awful, fragrant trees instead of closer to the school doors. She always stood up front, close enough that half the school seemed to orbit around her without her noticing. She made the whole school thing look effortless, cool and collected, whether she was in the chaotic stew of parents or wrangling kids and backpacks.

She hadn’t seen me yet. Good.

I needed a second to pull myself together, shake off the Bradford funk, and remember how to talk like a normal human being.

Harper burst out of the doors into the spring air, and I felt my day improve, at least for a few more hours.

She came running out hand-in-hand with Maddie, Anna’s daughter. The girls stopped, Maddie breaking for her mom and already starting whatever story she needed to unload, while Harper spotted me in the back and signaled me over like she was guiding a plane to the gate. Anna noticed and turned toward me with that easy smile that made everyone feel better than they really were.

This was probably my second favorite part of the after-school ritual. “Hey, Ethan,” she called. “Perfect timing. The girls were plotting.”

Harper crashed into my side, arms thrown around me, eyes beaming with the question she wasn’t asking out loud. I smiled down at her, then up at Anna, because that part was automatic.

“That sounds... ominous.”

“They want a sleepover,” she said, cocking her head the way she did when she already knew the answer. “And apparently they’ve both agreed we’re going to say yes.”

Harper tightened her grip around my waist. For a short moment, I didn’t notice the smell.

“Well,” I said, “we have stuff for pizza. Megan usually swings by to pick up Harper right after work, but if she’s good with it, I can feed everyone beforehand.”

Anna’s smile shifted slightly into something that read as knowing.

“Sounds perfect,” she said. “Maddie will be thrilled. She says your dough is better than mine. I’m trying not to be hurt.”

I laughed, too loud, too fast. I immediately wished I could take it back.

“It’s just Trader Joe’s in disguise,” I said. “I let the girls roll it out, and they think it’s magic.”

“That’s the trick.” She winked, giving me the win.

There was a stillness. Not silence; the girls were already negotiating their toppings, but something shared between us that I was reluctant to disturb.

Then it lasted a little too long.

I panicked and rushed to fill it.

“I’ll shoot Megan a text,” I said, pulling out my phone like it made me look competent. “Make sure it’s okay.”

Anna had already moved on to reorganizing Maddie’s backpack, but she paused and glanced over her shoulder.

“Let me know when she texts back,” she said. Like it was routine. Like it was just logistics. But her voice changed around it, and I caught the shift. I hoped I did.

We'd done this before. The kids threw out the idea, we handled the details. It had a groove to it by now. Sometimes I took the girls home after school. Other times, it was Anna dropping Maddie off after I’d picked up Harper.

I liked it when the night landed that way.

I didn’t mind showing up a little late to the DDC.

And I hated that I was already thinking of excuses not to go.

“If it works out, you can come too,” I heard myself say. “If you want. We’ll have dough for a small army.”

I tried to not make it sound like an obligation. I tried not to sound hopeful.

I failed at both.

She smiled, simple and unforced. “Appreciate it, you don’t have to trouble yourself. I can pick Maddie up if Megan says no.”

She was giving me an out. I didn’t want an out.

Not from this.

The girls were still arguing over which toppings to veto. Harper yelled, “No mushrooms,” like it was personal.

I thumbed out a short message to Megan, not even full sentences; she didn’t need them, and she replied before I put the phone away:

Megan: Of course. Six-thirty still good?

No fuss, just trust. It still surprised me sometimes how well we did that part, even if we couldn’t do the rest.

I looked up. Anna was already shifting bags and folders, but she must have heard the notification, because she gave me a small nod.

“Sounds like a go on my end,” I said. “Girls get what they want.”

“Then I’ll let you take them,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “And I’ll escape before anyone realizes I forgot to sign up for snack duty next week.”

I wanted to ask, “You sure?” I didn’t.

I just grinned.

“I’ll send them to Megan well-fed, and flour-dusted.”

“Perfect.” She smiled at me; the last one I’d get for a week. “Thanks, Ethan.” And that was it.

She walked toward her car, and I waited there a second longer than I should have. Long enough to feel the moment shift from “could have” to “not quite.” She drove off and waved. I waved back, realizing a moment too late that it was probably meant for Maddie.

“Dad, you better not forget the goat cheese this time.” Right. Goat cheese.

I climbed in and joined the slow river of minivans and exhausted parents. Pizza night was on.

I told myself this was enough. I wasn’t sure I believed me.

I still had a few hours with Harper. And I still had the DDC.

***

The house always felt different on handoff days.

Even before we arrived, I was able to sense the quiet building in the empty passenger seat like an extra person. Harper talked a mile a minute about toppings, sleepover plans, and what movie they were going to watch, but beneath her excitement, my mind kept tugging on the coming quiet. She was looking forward to the night. I was already feeling what came after.

She tapped the back of my seat with her foot.

“Dad, you’re thinking too loud.”

She said it like a joke. I gave her something close to a laugh.

“Just trying to remember if we have mozzarella,” I said. “I don’t want Maddie telling her mom we starved her.”

Harper snorted in that preteen way that was half dismissal and half affection. I took it as a win.

When we reached the house, the girls scrambled past me to get to the door first. I wedged myself between them to get the key in the lock.

“What’s the rush?” I asked, already knowing there wasn’t an answer. They didn’t bother giving one.

Inside, I hung my keys on their hook and glanced around the entryway. We used to come home to “our” house. Now, it was just “my” house. The place smelled less like home and more like a hotel room. The furniture was all IKEA and recent enough to still feel temporary. Everything looked fine. Nothing felt like mine. Nothing had a story. I kept telling myself I’d grow into it. Until then, the whole place stayed tidy, organized, and hollow.

Harper didn’t register any of that. She stormed through the house with a purpose, talking about which movies she and Maddie would watch and which side of the couch each would claim at Megan’s that night. Her voice filled the house like humidity fills the air: subtle, bringing with it a warmth I realized I’d soon miss.

She kicked her shoes off and tossed her backpack onto the couch. I let it go. It was her last hour there for a week. I would’ve let her commit minor vandalism if it made her smile.

“Can we start the dough?” she shouted from the kitchen. “Maddie wants to do the spiral crust again.”

She had a brightness I envied. The day had gone her way, and I wanted to be close enough to borrow some of it.

“Yeah,” I said. “We’ve got time.”

And we did. Megan wouldn’t be there until six thirty. This little window of time was ours.

Maddie dragged a stool across the tile, metal legs screeching. I winced as I prepared the counter while Harper explained, in detail, the entire sleepover schedule.

She paused only once, mid-sentence, to squint up at me. “You’re doing the sad eyebrows again.”

I blinked, then made a show of moving my hands around my face, doing an inventory. “I’m not,” I maintained, which was exactly what someone with sad eyebrows would do.

Harper sighed with theatrical self-assurance. “It’s one week. We’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.”

She nudged my arm, a small gesture meant to reassure without looking like reassurance. It worked. I smiled. A real one, I thought.

We pulled out the “magic” dough. I let the girls go at it. The kitchen filled with the clean, warm smell of yeast and flour, about as far from Bradford pear blossoms as you could get. Harper narrated her thoughts. Maddie critiqued her technique. I turned on the oven.

For the moment, everything was simply… okay. Then, at 5:40, my phone buzzed.

It cut through the room too sharply.

Megan: Leaving work early. Be there in 25.

I sighed as I read the message.

“Mom’s early, she’ll be here in twenty-five,” I said. “Show me your spiral crust.”

Harper’s grin snapped back instantly. I let myself share in her pride for a moment.

The girls leaned over the dough, shaping the spiral crust with complete seriousness. It was already a tradition, even though it had only existed for two sleepovers.

I hovered nearby, trying to be helpful without intruding. Harper said I ruined the “magic” by micromanaging. Maddie agreed with her. Together, they formed a united front against me.

They were arguing then about pepperoni density per quadrant. Maddie believed in aesthetic restraint. Harper called her a coward. I pretended to officiate but mostly just absorbed the noise.

Flour was everywhere. Tomorrow morning, the kitchen would look like a crime scene.

I’d clean it then. Right then, I let it be.

I leaned against the doorway for just a second and watched them. Harper caught me.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“The look. When you’re happy and sad at the same time. The one where you look like you’re about to cry.”

Harper. She had a way.

I shook my head, but she was already sculpting dough again. Maddie mentioned proper basil distribution. I caught myself thinking, again, that I wished we’d made a life that looked like that on purpose. A life where noise didn’t feel borrowed. Where warmth wasn’t temporary. Where home wasn’t something we visited in shifts.

The oven beeped when it was preheated. The girls finished crafting the pizza, two distinct halves. I placed their pizza on a pan and slid it onto the rack, setting the timer.

I wiped the counter. I pretended I wasn’t watching the time.

The door opened. Megan never knocked. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” I replied. “You’re early.”

“Traffic wasn’t bad.” She surveyed the kitchen, the flour on the floor, the girls, the crust. “Spiral again?”

“They’re committed,” I said. “Should be done in fifteen, if you’re hungry.” I always offered. I always meant it.

She gave me the practiced smile. Warm. Familiar. Not unkind. Not the smile of someone coming home, either.

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

I can’t say I was surprised.

Harper turned, saw her, and sprinted across the room.

“Mom! We added garlic powder this time, and Dad didn’t forget the goat cheese!”

“Of course he didn’t, Pumpkin,” Megan said, crouching to hug her. “You’re my little overachiever.”

Maddie hung back, but Megan gave her a quick wave too. “Hey, Maddie. Glad you could spend the night.”

“It’s going to be epic,” Maddie said, perfectly serious.

They all laughed. I smiled. And for a moment, I could almost believe that was what healthy looked like. Equal footing. Easy rhythm. Clean lines between homes.

But something in me still tightened.

Megan stood near the boundary of the kitchen, arms loose, taking in the room.

She had loved me once. I knew that. She might still have.

But she couldn’t live there with me then. Not in a house where the walls would echo every time she asked how I felt, and I replied, “Fine.” Not in a house where we had been roommates for years before we admitted it.

The timer beeped. Harper cheered like we’d won something. “Pizza’s done,” I announced to the room.

Good. I needed the interruption.

After we ate, I went to collect the girls’ plates as they finished. The girls drifted back into planning mode, already halfway out the door in their minds.

Megan’s house was just as new as mine, a life rebuilt, but somehow it didn’t echo like mine. Her house still felt like home, just not my home anymore.

When the girls ran off to gather Harper’s things, Megan stayed put, hovering near the table.

“What’s up?” I asked. I heard the fear in my voice. I hoped she didn’t.

Megan didn’t answer right away. Her eyes flicked toward the hallway where the girls disappeared, then back to the table where grease-streaked paper towels marked the end of dinner. She rested one hand on the chair back and the other lightly on her hip, almost looking relaxed.

“You seem tired,” she said. A check-in. The kind she used to do without asking.

“No, not tired,” I said. Too quickly. “Just pollen season. Everything’s good. I’m meeting Marcus and the boys tonight. Should be fun.”

I could hear myself trying too hard.

I placed the plates in the sink for later and rested one hand on the counter, shifting my weight, aiming for “relaxed” myself.

Megan watched me for a second too long. She read me like she was still fluent in a language I kept forgetting how to speak.

“That’s good,” she said. “It’s good you’re getting out.” She meant it, I thought.

Then, “You don’t have to prove anything, Ethan. Not to me.” It took me by surprise. It stung, and I didn’t quite know why.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said. “It’s just quiet when Harper’s gone. Everything’s fine.”

I heard the lie. She heard it too.

I let that hang for a moment before I added, because it still stung, “You know, you can always eat with us. You don’t have to wait until you get home. I’m happy to have you.”

She exhaled softly. A practiced breath. A familiar boundary. “I know. And thank you. You always offer.”

There was warmth in it. There was also an ending.

She shifted her weight, mirrored me almost, hand grazing the opposite side of the counter like she might have leaned there once, in another version of that night.

“But if I stayed…” she trailed off, “…you’d ask how work was, and I’d ask about your place, and we’d talk like we’re still trying.”

There it was. Simple. Clean. True.

“I was trying, you know,” I said. “I was always trying.” My voice felt smaller than I wanted it to be.

“I didn’t want this.”

She didn’t flinch. She just met my eyes like she’d been waiting years for me to say that out loud.

“I know you didn’t.” Her voice came quietly.

She crossed her arms, landing somewhere between guarding and supporting herself.

“But trying isn’t the same as showing up. Not where I could see it.” She wasn’t trying to be cruel.

“You were good with Harper. Always. And I think part of me hoped that would be enough. That maybe you just needed time.”

She swallowed, and for a second, I thought maybe she was still hurt.

“But I was so alone, Ethan. For so long. Even when you were right there.” She said it gently. It still landed hard.

I didn’t know what to say. I never did.

“Yeah,” I managed. “Well… you’re always welcome here. I do have a project at work I’m behind on. Is six okay for next week?”

Maybe she heard the deflection, the hope, the wound. She nodded either way.

“Six is fine.”

Not “yes,” not “no”, just “fine.” The story of us.

The girls came barreling back, a whirlwind of backpacks and stuffed animals. “We’re ready!” Harper said.

Megan brightened instantly. “Okay, Pumpkin. Let’s roll.”

I handed Harper her water bottle and touched her shoulder like it mattered. It did.

“Bye, Dad! Love you!”

“Love you too, Harp.”

They filed out like it was routine. And it was. Somehow, that made it worse. Megan turned around and gave me one last look.

“Take care of yourself, Ethan.”

“You too,” I answered automatically.

Then the door shut behind them, and the house exhaled. The oven clicked as it cooled.

Paper towels sat crumpled on the table. Pizza smell hung in the air.

I was still standing by the sink when the quiet finally settled in.

 

Please check out this chapter from my novel. Honest feedback on the prose, readability, and POV would be greatly appreciated. Also, do you think the following passage would flow better in first-person POV?

Scene: Dawn and other dark mages who awakened their power in the coming of age ceremony are now guided to the last part of the ceremony, to the council chambers where elders will judge based on their powers.

Thirty of them marched past the dark stone wall, guided only by the flickering flames of rusty iron chandeliers. Without warning, the group came to an abrupt halt. Lost in thought, Dawn bumped right into the back of the young mage ahead of him.

“Sorry...“ Dawn muttered, staggering back to catch his balance on the cold stone floor.

The young mage didn’t even turn around, barely registering the collision. Up at the front of the procession, an attendant’s hands came together with a sharp, echoing clap.

“Nobles first, then commoners! Split into two lines,“ the attendant shouted. “Quick now!“

Swiftly the students started to form a line. Dawn scanned the divide, silk dark cloak and polished boots lined right, dark faded tunic and tattered sandals lined left. Commoners or high folks? The system had ripped him from his world and dumped him directly into this sequence, leaving only his appearance unchanged. He knew nothing about his origins or lineage. How could he know where he belonged if he had not been told?

As Dawn was about to step into a queue, a massive hairy hand slammed him against his chest, shoving him back. “Where are you pulling into mutt” a guttural voice barked. “Hide your ugly mug alongside the commoners.”

Before Dawn could regain his footing, a second hand reached out, catching the brute’s wrist and wrenching it away.

“Now, now, Darwin,“ a smoother voice intervened, cool and condescending. “Even if he is a half breed, noble blood still lingers in him.“ The brute muttered something under his breath but fell in line like a well trained hound. It only took one word for him to keep the mutt under control. He eyed Dawn for a beat, then stepped back. “Malrick, give him some space.“ With a low grunt, the purple haired young mage backed up, clearing a gap in the queue. With a practised smile the savior gestured to the open spot, his voice smooth as silk. “Get in line, Dawn.“ Defeated, Dawn took refuge beside him among the noble ranks.

From the line he peeked another look at his saviour, Slicked back hair, calculative dead pan eyes, pale skin with a noble house crest knitted into his clock. Everything about the man screamed authoritative nobility. He flashed another smile, rotten and hollow, the fakest among fake.

“Now, the first five from the noble line, follow me“ the attendee called out.

Pulled into the line, Dawn was standing fifth. First was the brute, his massive frame hovering over everyone in the line. Second was the dark savior of Dawn, other two slots were filled with a purple dyed student with piercing, and a normal looking one. No code were followed in this school except the attire needed to be black.

The group followed the attendant toward a pair of massive oak doors. Pulling them open, he gestured for the young students to step inside.

A towering, crowded arena greeted them. Dozens of senior students looked down from the lower stands, while armored guards lined the dirt floor below. High above, in the upper wooden balconies, a few hooded elders stood watching. Their sharp eyes judged the new arrivals from beneath deep cowls, quiet fingers stroking long white beards.

Right in the center of the dirt floor, a single wide circle was drawn. A few feet back from the circle, a line of examiners sat behind wooden desks. Quill pens scratched fiercely across parchment as they scribbled notes.

“Welcome! The first batch is right on time!“

The speaker stepped forward to greet them, a teacher wearing round spectacles, a pointed witch’s hat, and a bushy white beard that billowed out like a pine tree.

“My name is Tharos,“ he continued, gesturing around the corner “And the one over there is Crowfeet.“

A few feet away, a second instructor hunched against the walls under the balcony shadows, his tall frame half-swallowed.

“As time is of the essence, we will begin the welcoming ceremony! No time for pep talks.“ Tharos turned toward the rear doors and ordered the guards, “Bring in the prisoners!“

Two hooded guards dragged forward five prisoners chained in a line. Heavy iron cuffs bound their wrists and ankles, clanking loudly as the captives struggled to walk. Sacks covered their heads completely.

Dawn’s chest tightened, a spike of cold panic piercing his gut. What were their crimes? What was about to happen? Around him, the other recruits stood impassive, as though expecting this all along. Everyone knew the rules of this ritual, except him.

As Dawn stood frozen in contemplation, a heavy hand patted against his shoulder.

It was his savior. The noble had effortlessly slipped out of his spot in line and stepped up beside him. According to whatever twisted logic of the system, they were supposed to know each other, yet Dawn’s mind remained a total blank, unable to retrieve a single memory of the man.

“Are you ready, Dawn?“ the noble asked.

Dawn wanted to mouth no, to scream it, but his instincts took over. “Yes,“ he muttered anyway, the word escaping his throat before he could stop it.

“No time to waste! First up, Corin from the House of Iron march!“ Tharos called out.

The brute stepped forward out of the line, his massive frame looming over the dirt circle. A guard stepped up, unlocked the lead chain from the line of captives, and guided a single prisoner with wrists and ankles still bound and forced him onto his knees directly before Corin.

“Start the timer on my mark! Corin, show us your power. The elders will judge!“

Tharos gave him a brief moment to prepare, but the brute looked more than ready, standing unnaturally tall and broad for a mage. As the signal was given, a guard flipped a heavy hourglass upside down, and grains of dark sand began to trickle down through the glass.

Corin activated his skill. From his broad shoulders, two massive arms made of solid shadow erupted into the air. With a brutal burst of violence, the giant hands of shadow slammed down, pummeling the helpless prisoner into the dirt.

After the fist’s first heavy impact, Dawn instinctively dropped his gaze toward the floor. Before he could look away, a firm hand clamped around his jaw and yanked his face back up.

“Don’t look down,“ a smooth voice whispered near his ear. “Look around us, Dawn. None of them are staring at the dirt. They are all looking death straight in the eye.“

The slick haired noble tilted Dawn’s head upward toward the balcony. “The elders are watching.“ He turned Dawn’s face back down toward the desk of instructors. “We are being judged. Act according to our noble name.“

He released his grip, leaving Dawn forced to witness the brutal onslaught as shadow hands mangled the lifeless body. Dawn was no stranger to butchering livestock or the stench of rotting animal carcasses but now he would have to get used to the sight and smell of human blood too.

“And time!“ The guard flipped the hourglass flat and checked the remaining sand. “Ten seconds!“ he announced to the arena.

Tharos shook his head slightly. “If you had stopped your meaningless rampage early, that could have been a record.“

Across the arena wall, the grand slate board shuddered. The name holding tenth place dropped lower, triggering a domino effect down the line. The fiftieth name vanished from the bottom entirely as the forty ninth slipped into its place.

“You are currently tenth on the leaderboard,“ Tharos announced.

Corin threw his arms wide, flexing his massive muscles in triumph as a handful of senior students scattered throughout the crowd offered lazy applause. High above in the balcony, the elders remained silence, unimpressed. At the long wooden bench, the examiners jotted down their notes.

After allowing Corin a brief moment to bathe in his glory, the guards escorted him out of the ring. A cleanup crew rushed in immediately, dragging the mangled remains away and leaving behind only a slick, pool of blood staine in the center of the dirt.

“Now for our second recruit, Matthew of the Vlodrath family! Come forward,“ Tharos called out.

The savior with the polished black hair stepped smoothly into the spotlight. A wave of murmurs rippled through the arena. A few senior students cheered, while others looked on with sharp, astonished eyes.

Dawn watched him walk forward, his lingering suspicions confirmed. Matthew was clearly from a high ranking house and dawn belong to the same house as him.

“Now once I give the signal, you can show your powers to the elders“. Dawn frowned, by showing powers now has a darker meaning then anything else.

As Tharos signaled, Matthew took out the dagger from his belt and lunged at the prisoner, slitting his throat without a shred of remorse. Not a single second was wasted.

He glanced over at the guard operating the hourglass and shrugged. “Turn the hourglass upside down again!“

“The trial only ends when you show us your powers. It’s not about how fast you can kill,“ Tharos snapped, giving him a scornful look.

High above, a few elders gasped in disappointment, while the examiners at the desk didn’t even look fazed, they had seen this arrogant rookie mistake a thousand times before.

“Fine,“ Matthew declared.

He opened his palm and twitched his fingers, weaving invisible dark threads from his finger tips that slid directly into the fresh wound on the prisoner’s neck. He held the stance for a moment before commanding in an cold voice, “Arise!“

The dead body mechanically jerked upward to its feet.

“A Puppeteer,“ one elder murmured from the balcony, sounding quiet impressed. Beside him, another wore a proud smile, as if to say, That’s my boy.

“And that’s time!“ Tharos shouted, glaring toward the guard.

“Twenty seconds!“ the guard called out.

The reanimated corpse stumbled forward a few feet before collapsing back into the dirt like a broken rag doll. As the cleanup crew dragged the body away, Matthew walked past Dawn, silently lipping the words good luck before stepping out of the arena.

As the lineup moved faster and faster, Dawn fidgeted nervously with his hands. He checked his status screen several times, but the truth remained unyielding. Neither the class bestowed upon him nor his skills had changed.

Up ahead, the queue dissolved quickly. The purple-haired boy summoned a small brigade of skeletons to tear into his target, while the quiet silence student calmly coated his blade in poison before finishing off his prisoner. They logged times of thirty and thirty five seconds, respectively.

Finally, the floor was cleared and his Dawn’s turn.

“Velkar from-” his voice suddenly cutting out with a strange, unnatural static. Tharos entire frame glitched for a fraction of a second. As if the system is fixing a mistake, “...Dawn from the Vlodrath family!“

Dawn didn’t bother worrying about the system glitch. He had far bigger problems to survive right now. He swallowed hard and stepped into the center of the circle.

“Wait for my signal. Then, you may use your power,“ Tharos said.

Dawn could feel the weight of every eye in the arena preying upon him. Tharos gave the signal, and the guard flipped the hourglass.

Dawn activated his skill: Summon Orb.

A tiny black sphere materialized in the air in front of him, hovered for a split second, and then dropped straight into the dirt with a pathetic plop.

A wave of muffled chuckles rippled through the stands. Tharos quickly silenced the crowd with a sharp glare before gesturing for Dawn to proceed. Over at the instructors’ bench, however, the examiners leaned into one another, exchanging urgent whispers.

“What is your class?“ one of the examiners called out, breaking protocol.

“It’s called Void Caller... ah, sir,“ Dawn replied, his voice barely holding steady.

The examiner slid his spectacles down the bridge of his nose, squinting at his parchment. “And what is the rank of your class and skill?“

“SSS-rank, sir. Both of them.“

“Continue,“ the examiner ordered flatly, turning back to his colleagues as they frantically began scribbling notes and debating among themselves.

Dawn took the sphere into his hands, looking out at the crowd. Up close, it resembled a heavy iron cannonball, polished slick like a black bowling ball without finger holes. When he lifted it with both hands, the weight sank heavily into his arms, around twenty pounds of solid black metal.

“What is your power again?“ the examiner pressed, leaning over his notes as the sand inside the hourglass slowly dripped away.

“Ah... it’s this,“ Dawn stammered. He lifted the iron sphere, balancing it in both hands to show the entire gallery. “I can summon this ball.“

A sudden wave of roaring laughter erupted from the senior students.

“Silence! Silence!“ Tharos barked, glaring sharply at the laughing crowd. “Let Dawn from House Vlodrath finish his-”

“That insolent brat is not from the Vlodrath family!“

A roar interrupted and shattered the mood as an old bastard in the balcony jumped from his seat, leaning over the wooden railing with a face twisted in rage. “I have controlled enough tolerance, One member’s failure to control his sexual urge will not leave a black mark to the entire clan! Never utter our house name again alongside that brat’s name.“

With that single outburst, the entire chamber went dead silent.

What did I do to piss that old fellow off again?

Dawn stared down at the heavy black sphere resting in his hands. Holding it tight, he took a hesitant step toward the kneeling prisoner. Beneath the rough sack, the captive let out muffled, frantic whimpers, his mouth bound tight beneath the cloth.

Dawn glanced back over his shoulder at Tharos and the examiners, his wide, desperate eyes silently pleading for someone to intervene.

The pressure unlocked a core memory, where he had stood frozen on a stage during a speech competition, paralyzed under the glare of a hundred staring faces. But this wasn’t a speech. He didn’t want his first act in this world to be murdering a helpless man with a twenty pound bowling ball.

A tongue clicked sharply from the darkness.

It was Crowfeet. The instructor hidden beneath the shadow glided forward, his tall frame cutting through the dim light as he clenched his fists. Without a word of warning, Crowfeet grabbed the prisoner by the head, slammed him face first into the dirt, and pushed his knee into the man’s chest, pinning him to the ground.

“The timer won’t stop until you kill him,“ He pointed a long, bony finger at the sphere in Dawn’s hands. “You hold a weapon. Use it.“

Dawn’s hands trembled as he adjusted his grip on the heavy sphere. He closed the distance, raising the ball up near his chin to gain momentum.

“H-huh...“ Dawn gasped, losing his balance for a fraction of a second.

“If you drop that on my leg, I will kill you myself,“ Crowfeet growled without looking up.

A few muffled snickers snuck out from the senior students in the stands, though Dawn took a small, twisted comfort in knowing the other particpants had already been escorted out and couldn’t witness this embarrassment. Still, Crowfeet’s threat worked. Panic surged through Dawn’s veins. He quickly lowered the heavy ball back down to his waist, bent his knees, and released his grip, the sphere went down toward the captive’s head.

Crack.

The heavy iron smashed into the prisoner’s nose with a sickening crunch. The ball rebounded off the face and rolled away into the dirt. blood instantly soaked through the sack.

Dawn spun around, gulping his bile back to his stomach.

Crowfeet let out a long, disappointed sigh. Raising his hand, he activated a telekinesis skill, the iron orb lifted off the ground and floated directly into his palm. Wrapping his fingers around the ball, the instructor brought the sphere down onto the prisoner’s head again and again, raining relentless blows until the captive stopped breathing and the skull caved in completely.

Crowfeet tossed the bloody sphere carelessly into the dirt.

“Stop the timer!“ Tharos shook his head. “It doesn’t even count!“

Before Dawn could even catch his breath or wipe the cold sweat from his forehead, two guards stepped up, grabbed him by the arms, and forcefully escorted him out of the arena.