Aku remained silent, his breathing measured, barely a slight energy flow running through his remaining Azoth tentacles that still faded. His body was relaxed, but each muscle ready to react if necessary.

Antony stood up with effort, adjusting his uniform and retrieving the rose from his pocket, casting Aku a look combining respect with frustration.

"You look too confident," he murmured. "But at least... it was fun."

Aku only observed him an instant and then turned on his heels, without saying anything, letting Antony process the defeat.

Bīng Xuě ran toward him, patting his back enthusiastically.

"That was incredible!" he said, jumping from side to side. "You didn’t hold back at all, right!"

"I controlled enough," Aku responded, his tone neutral, but a slight gleam of satisfaction crossed his gaze.

Gerald, adjusting his glasses once more, sighed and crossed his arms.

"Alright," he said with a thread of admiration he tried to hide. "But don’ t get used to everything going this easily."

Aku ignored the warning and left the combat area, his firm steps resonating on the polished stone floor as he headed toward the stands, passing beside his companions, his mind already concentrated on the next class, on the techniques, on the movements, on the strategy he would perfect with each encounter.

The air still smelled of condensed energy and the burning of brambles and fire, and the observing students exchanged glances, some commenting in low voices about Aku’ s efficiency and control.

He ignored them completely, advancing with the precision of one who knows toward the next class.

Aku advanced through the academy’ s wide hallways, following the established routine for [Team Combat] class.

His steps were precise and measured, his movements fluid, without hurry but without hesitation.

The artificial star’ s light penetrated through the windows bordering the corridors, reflecting on the floor’ s polished surface, making his boots seem to glide smoothly.

As he approached the exterior, he could hear distant echoes of combat: metallic clashes, shouts, controlled energy explosions.

Anticipation didn’ t alter him; rather he analyzed it, evaluating each sound, each signal like a master studying a canvas before beginning to paint.

Finally, he exited outside and found himself before the coliseum.

This wasn’ t a common building; it was monumental, of epic proportions, far vaster than any academy amphitheater he had seen until now.

Inspired by classical Roman architecture, its white marble columns rose dozens of meters, with arches forming hallways surrounding the entire perimeter.

Wide stairs ascended toward stands that seemed endless, and the ground’s arena, finely compacted and slightly golden, extended to the center, delineating a vast and open combat space, perfect for complex maneuvers and strategic confrontations.

Each sun ray on the marble and sand made the coliseum shine with imposing majesty, combining the epic and functional, designed to host large-scale confrontations without any detail obstructing the spectator’ s vision.

Aku arrived before the others, as was customary, and took a seat in one of the highest stands, observing. Around him, students prepared for the next class, adjusting their uniforms, checking weapons, or simply evaluating the arena.

At that moment, he focused on the class already underway, a group of five students fighting under the supervision of an instructor who stood out even from a distance.

Her white hair fell straight over her shoulders, her red eyes scrutinized each movement with calculating precision. Her cap and military attire suggested discipline and authority; each gesture indicated that each decision, each observation, each correction was measured to the millimeter.

The five students were surrounded by a group of monsters that seemed to vary in size and shape.

There were quadrupedal creatures with leathery skin and sharp claws, with phosphorescent eyes shining with aggressiveness; winged beings launching electric energy discharges while flying over them; and some more corpulent figures, almost humanoid, with irregular limbs and a dark aura that seemed to absorb the light around them.

The monster combination required coordination, speed, and strategy, but also improvisation capacity.

From his position, Aku could analyze the combat’s dynamics. The students initially tried facing them individually, trusting in their personal abilities.

One launched a fire attack that barely distracted a quadruped, while another tried dodging aerial discharges, only to be struck by impact force.

Each monster exploited the lack of coordination: a joint roar from the winged ones, followed by a push from the quadruped, continuously destabilized them.

The instructor walked along the arena, adjusting her cap with a calculated movement and giving precise instructions. "Use the covers," she said with firm voice. "Coordinate your attacks, each movement matters. The objective isn’ t just to survive, but to neutralize the monsters in the shortest time possible. Observe their patterns. Identify their weaknesses."

The students tried to reorganize. A boy with brown hair generated an energy wall to block attacks, while the blonde girl, slender and agile, moved between the monsters’ shadows, trying to make precise attacks on their enemies’ joints.

Another team member, a robust young man with black hair, charged with brute force, bringing down a quadruped with a powerful blow, but without covering the others, which allowed the winged ones to attack without resistance.

However, each strategy they applied was quickly countered. The monsters demonstrated coordinated attack patterns among themselves, adapting to students’ movements rapidly.

The winged being launching electric discharges anticipated dodging attempts, while the quadrupeds used their strength to destabilize defensive lines created by students. Joint attacks were fragmented, scattered by confusion and lack of synchronization.

Aku observed how a dark haired youth tried concentrating an area attack while another boy, smaller and faster, sought to circle a monster to trap it from behind.

The instructor constantly adjusted her posture, moving with precision, but never intervened directly; her function was allowing students to experience the consequences of deficient coordination.

As the class progressed, the instructor began increasing pressure. "Don’ t block each attack individually!" she exclaimed. "Combat is won as a unit, not as isolated individuals. Each monster you manage to ignore increases the others’ threat. Coordinate, or you ’ll be defeated."

Despite attempts to improve communication, the five students kept failing. One launched an attack too early, leaving a gap; another hesitated and lost the exact moment.

Each monster that managed to take advantage of that indecision applied severe punishment: blows that threw the youths against the arena’s walls, electric discharges that left them trembling, and charges that required joint effort to resist.

Finally, after several attempts, the five students were brought down almost consecutively.

Some rolled through the arena, others were trapped under creatures’ claws, unable to coordinate their movements enough to free themselves. The instructor remained in the center, her posture erect, her gaze cold. Her red eyes swept each defeated student.

"I’ m disappointed," she said, adjusting her cap once more. "This is unacceptable. Your coordination was insufficient and your lack of strategy evident. Go and reflect on your errors. Class is over."

The students stood up with effort, some with visible impact marks, sweat covering their foreheads, broken breathing.

There was frustration and resignation in their expressions, mixed with the learned lesson: without unity, individual strength and isolated talent aren’t enough against coordinated threats.

Aku remained silent, observing each detail as students left the coliseum. The way monsters attacked, how each movement could open a breach, and how lack of communication converted a combat that could be relatively simple into a complete disaster, everything was engraved in his memory.

He evaluated each error, each lost opportunity, and mentally analyzed how he would have reacted, how he would have used his Azoth, chaotic energy, or his observation abilities to maintain advantage without monsters finding any opening.

The instructor, seeing the coliseum emptied, adjusted her cap once more and withdrew with firm steps.

The arena, bathed by sun, began cooling slightly; the echo of blows and roars dissipated, leaving a clean and silent space, ready for the next class.

Aku didn’ t move immediately. He remained an instant in the highest stand, observing the terrain’s disposition, the way monsters had interacted among themselves and with students, the arena’s density and each attacker’ s reaction.

Each detail was stored, a silent analysis that would allow him to improve his performance in the next session, his capacity to foresee attacks, anticipate movements, and maintain superiority without unnecessary effort.

Finally, he descended the coliseum’s stairs with his usual tranquility, leaving behind the open and epic space, absorbing the lesson in silence, while the sun began shifting westward, reflecting its light on the columns’ marble and golden sand. Team combat class had shown the essential: without unity, even the strongest heroes could fall.

Each step he took toward the coliseum’ s exit was measured, with attentive senses and active mind, evaluating others’ errors, planning his strategy and absorbing the teaching that, indirectly, reminded him that individual strength isn’t enough when chaos and coordination intertwine.

The day barely continued, but Aku had already acquired profound knowledge of group combat, of the dangers of underestimating a coordinated enemy and the value of anticipating each movement with millimetric precision.

Each shadow, each movement, each reaction was stored in his mind, like a map that would guide his next steps. The class’s lesson was complete, and the arena remained behind, silent and empty, a reminder of what happens when coordination fails and individual strength isn’t enough to prevail.

***

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