Extra's POV: I am the Sixteenth Son

Sylas spent the next hour in the infirmary like a patient waiting for test results.

The burns weren't going to leave scars, thanks to a cooling salve and a minor healing potion, but they still stung like. The medical wing had strict rules about students leaving before their health return to peak condition, so he was stuck there whether he liked it or not. Ares sat nearby in silence, occasionally glancing at Sylas.

"That was really dumb," Sylas muttered finally, flexing his bandaged wrist like he was testing if it still worked. "I should have thought before I acted."

"Yeah," Ares agreed without sugar-coating it. "But you survived. And you made the rest of us think twice about rushing into things."

Sylas raised an eyebrow, wincing slightly at the movement. "Is that supposed to make me feel better about getting blown up?"

"No," Ares replied simplyq. "Just makes it the truth."

Sylas couldn't help but crack a small smile at that. At least his friend was honest.

---

When the group got back together for evening practice, Ethan had kept his word. The merit board glowed with Sylas's name at the top, showing he'd earned twenty whole points for bravery and being the first to face an echo creature.

"Burned and rewarded," Maelia joked as she read the glowing letters on the board. "I guess exploding things does pay off sometimes."

Sylas rolled his shoulder carefully, testing the movement. "I'll take the points. But I could do without smelling like a campfire gone wrong."

They all laughed together, except for Lysandra, who stayed quiet and distant. She sat apart from them, polishing her training sword with the focus of someone trying to ignore the world around her. Ares noticed her silence but decided not to poke at whatever was bothering her.

Their next class was elemental training, a session designed to help them connect better with their magical abilities. It was taught by a no-nonsense instructor named Master Irion, whose teaching style involved lots of sitting still, repeating exercises, and pushing their magic until it hurt.

Each student was given a focus crystal that matched their magical element. Ares was handed six different crystals, one for each type of element. He was the only student with that many.

Lysandra's eyes narrowed as she watched him juggle the colorful stones. "You really think you're going to use all six at the same time?"

"No," Ares said, not taking the bait. "But I should at least try to understand them all."

"You're not special just because you broke some old testing device," she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Maelia flinched like she'd been slapped. Sylas suddenly found his boots very interesting to look at.

Ares met her angry stare without backing down. "I never said I was special. But it's not my fault the artifact couldn't handle what I can do."

For a moment, the air between them felt electric, not with lightning magic, but with all the things they weren't saying out loud. Then Lysandra turned away and began practicing her exercises with sharp, angry movements.

The rest of the class passed in uncomfortable silence.

---

That night, Maelia caught up with Ares in the hallway outside their sleeping quarters. She looked like someone who'd been building up courage to say something difficult.

"You know she hates being outdone by anyone," she said quietly, glancing around to make sure they were alone.

"I wasn't trying to show off," Ares replied, leaning against the stone wall. "But I'm not going to pretend to be weaker just because she feels threatened."

"I know you weren't. But she's not used to people catching up to her skill level. Maybe give her some time to adjust?"

"Time doesn't wait for anyone in this place," Ares said, his voice carrying a weight that seemed too heavy for his age.

Maelia gave him a gentle smile that reminded him of warm sunlight. "No, it doesn't. But we still need to work together. Even when we disagree or fight sometimes."

Ares watched her walk away, her words echoing in his mind.

Maybe Maelia was right. Maybe being strong didn't mean standing alone against the world.

But he couldn't forget that not everyone would want him to succeed at all.

– – –

Morning arrived like a slap to the face.

Ares was already awake, sitting cross-legged on his sleeping mat, breathing slowly and deeply. He'd spent weeks learning to feel the magical energy inside him, the way it moved and flowed like water through his body. He called to it now like greeting an old friend, letting it wash through him in steady, calming waves.

His mana had grown stronger. More focused. No longer the fuzzy, unclear energy it used to be.

He smiled slightly in the pre-dawn darkness.

Let's see if anyone notices the difference today.

—

By the time the wake-up bell rang, all four of them were already outside, standing in the same field that had beaten them up yesterday.

Same place.

Same tough-as-nails instructor.

Jareth stood at the far end of the training field with his arms crossed, looking like a statue made of muscle and bad attitude.

He didn't yell instructions. He didn't give warnings.

He just turned and started running at a pace that would make professional athletes cry.

And they followed, because they had no choice.

—

The same punishing speed.

The same soul-crushing endurance test.

Every time Ares felt his legs start to give out, he took a deep breath and focused—not on the pain burning through his muscles, not on how much he wanted to quit, but on the rhythm of his magic flowing through him. Like oil keeping a machine running smoothly.

It helped more than it should have.

Jareth didn't make anything easy for them. Every few minutes, he would turn his head to look back at them, his eyes sweeping over the group like a hawk searching for weakness.

Every time he looked, someone always found extra energy they didn't know they had.

The running order became clear pretty quickly.

Sylas took the lead like before, his pace smooth and controlled, every step planned and efficient. Ares followed closer than yesterday, closing the gap between them with steady breathing and better posture. Lysandra ran just behind Ares, her face scrunched up in concentration as she pushed herself harder. Maelia brought up the rear, doing her absolute best to keep up.

By the end of two hours of torture disguised as exercise, all four of them collapsed onto the dirt like broken toy, used up, empty, and steaming with sweat.

Jareth didn't let them rest for long.

He stood over them like a war god, his voice booming while they gasped for air like fish out of water.

"You four move better today. I can see real effort in your running now, not just complaints. Sylas, first place - twenty points." He didn't need to point. Everyone knew who had won.

"Fifteen points, Ares. You're getting better."

Ares blinked in surprise at the praise, blunt and direct as a punch to the face. Not a compliment meant to make him feel good. Just a statement of fact.

"Lysandra, ten points. Maelia, five points. For not giving up."

Maelia groaned from where she lay flat on the ground. "Good to know staying conscious is worth something around here."

Jareth's expression didn't change, he looked like he'd been carved from stone.

"You've got three weeks before we hold the class leadership contest," he announced, his words settling over them like heavy rocks. "Three weeks of this exact same training. Every single morning. No excuses, no sick days, no crying."

The air grew thick as his meaning sank in.

"Only one of you will earn the captain's badge. Only one of you will lead the other students for the rest of the year."

He didn't say who he expected to win.

The look in his eyes said he already knew.

Then, without another word, Jareth turned and walked away, his boots crunching on the dirt, leaving behind only their heavy breathing and wounded pride.

—

Ares lay flat on his back, staring up at the pale morning sky like he was looking for answers in the clouds.

Sweat dripped down his face and into his ears, making everything sound muffled. His legs felt like they'd been replaced with wooden logs. But despite everything, he was smiling.

Fifteen points.

Second place.

It's actually working.

All those quiet meditation sessions in the dark before dawn.

All those breathing exercises that made him feel silly.

All those mornings spent trying to talk to his magic like it was a living thing inside him...

It was finally starting to pay off in ways he could measure.

—

Across the field, Lysandra sat up slowly, her face tight with something that might have been worry or anger, or both. Her eyes flicked toward Ares for just a second, taking in his satisfied expression. Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. Then she looked away quickly, forcing her face back to its usual calm mask.

But that one look said everything.

He's getting closer to my level.

And I don't like it one bit.

Ares didn't notice her stare. He was too busy enjoying the burn of small victory, hard-earned, well-deserved, and completely his own.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, though, he knew this was just the beginning. The real competition was still three weeks away.

And everyone would be watching to see who would rise to the top.

– – –

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