The ground around the fieldhouse glittered with frost when Otter arrived for the Navigation and Survival exam. Other students shuffled about, some yawning, others anxiously adjusting their gear. All worked to stave off the chill.

  The exam setup was nearly identical to their initial assessment—a timed course through the Redthorne Wilds, using only a map, compass, and their instincts to find checkpoints. The only difference was that now, everyone was expected to perform at a higher level. At each checkpoint, they were required to complete a different task—starting a fire, building a shelter, distinguishing between edible plants and poisonous ones.

  Unlike the preliminary assessment, this one was individual. Each student had their own starting time and location. Otter could neither see nor hear anyone else when his turn came. And, he assumed, no one could see or hear him either.

  As soon as the signal was given, Otter set off at a steady, confident pace. His Navigation skill lit up the best path before he even checked the map.

  When he did pause to confirm, it was only out of habit, not necessity. He could already tell which trails were deceptive. They were the ones that looked easy but led to steep drops, dead ends, or tangled brambles.

  By the time he reached the second checkpoint, he had caught up to a few other students. Scouts. They nodded to him, but no words were exchanged. While this wasn’t a race, and cooperation was discouraged. Otter wouldn’t be going to the same place as they were for the third checkpoint anyway.

  The next leg required him to cross a river, and Otter barely broke stride. With the freezing temperatures, he didn’t dare wade or swim across. There was a pile of various materials on this side—pieces of wood, some rope, and a few other things, but Otter didn’t bother to inspect it. He glimpsed a fallen tree a few dozen yards upstream. It was partially obscured from the path, and he wasn’t certain if it was there intentionally, but it was much quicker than constructing a makeshift bridge. Rule #1 of survival was to use everything to your advantage.

  He had no trouble with the fire or the shelter build, but the plant ID gave him pause. There were two mushrooms that looked very similar. Fungus wasn't really his thing. He didn’t particularly care for them and avoided them in most dishes. He racked his brain trying to remember what he was supposed to be looking for, then finally remembered to flip them over and check under the caps. One had white gills. The others were a darker tan. He was pretty sure the white gills were poisonous. He stole a glance toward Erin, but the assistant helping her blocked his view completely.

  Finally, he held up the mushroom with darker gills. “This one is safe,” he told the old woman marking his answers. “I’d rather not eat it, though. Not unless I have to.”

  The old woman cackled. “Smart lad. Never eat a ‘shroom unless you’re certain it’s safe. Be on with you then.”

  He reached the finish line with plenty of time to spare, and ahead of a lot of the Scouts, though not all.

  A few eyed him curiously. They didn’t say anything, but Otter could tell what they were thinking.

  He didn’t look like a Level 0 Villager to them.

  When the exam officially ended, Otter checked his wrisplay, heart skipping at the familiar notification:

  Skills Leveled Up!

  Navigation Apprentice- Lvl 6

  Survival Craft Novice- Lvl 3

  Otter grinned. Other than his mushroom choice, he was certain he’d passed this exam with flying colors. And then he remembered he still had Combat Basics to look forward to and his grin evaporated.

  Several sparring rings were set up on the training yard. Master Horvan stood in the center of one. “ For today’s exam, you will each face an opponent in single combat. Weapons are blunted. Victory is determined by clean strikes or disarming your opponent. First person to five points wins. My third year students will be scoring your performance. A loss in the ring doesn't necessarily mean a failing score. Furthermore, we will treat this as a tournament. Winning a match will take you to the next round.”

  A murmur rippled through the students.

  Otter swallowed hard. He had expected a one-on-one sparring assessment, but a tournament? That changed things. He had originally planned to go all-out, to give his opponent everything he had. But on the off-chance that he won, he’d have no strength left for the next round. No. Now he’d have to conserve stamina, which meant a different kind of fight. Although, that made sense. Horvan had impressed on them that real fights were rarely one-on-one and even the best fighter could be worn down over time.

  He exhaled slowly, glancing down at his rapier.

  The others had already retrieved their weapons of choice—some wielding broadswords, axes, or daggers, all suited to their respective Classes. Jasper, predictably, had chosen the long sword. Otter ignored him.

  Instead, he focused on the weapon in his grip, letting the weight settle in his hand. The thin, agile blade wasn’t built for slashing through armor and flesh, but it was fast. Precise. It didn’t rely on strength, but on technique and control—something he had worked on with Liora.

  And right now, precision was his best shot.

  For his first match, Otter was paired against a Scout—a wiry, sharp-eyed boy named Marvin Hensley.

  “Ready?” Master Horvan called.

  Otter lowered into a balanced stance, one foot slightly forward, knees bent. Marvin mirrored him, twirling a pair of daggers.

  Horvan gave the signal.

  Marvin moved first, lunging low and fast, aiming to slip inside Otter’s guard. But Otter had expected that. Marvin was quick, but his reach was short. He stepped back, twisting his rapier just enough to deflect the attack, then struck cleanly to his opponent’s shoulder.

  Point: Otter.

  The Scout scowled and came again, this time feinting left before cutting right. Otter read the move too late and the dagger tagged him in the ribs before he could parry.

  Point: Marvin.

  Otter adjusted. He couldn’t rely solely on reaction speed. He needed to control the fight.

  As they approached each other again, he baited Marvin into an attack—a wide slash—then stepped in, knocking his dagger aside and thrusting straight to his chest.

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  Point: Otter.

  Marvin growled in frustration. His strikes became more reckless, more predictable. Otter dodged and landed two more points, ending the match at five to two.

  As Otter stepped back, panting, Master Horvan gave him a small nod of approval.

  Otter grinned.

  One win down.

  The next round paired Otter against Eda Rowan, a broad-shouldered Fighter wielding a shortsword and buckler. She was steady, methodical, and didn’t take risks.

  Otter quickly realized that fighting her was like trying to outmaneuver a wall.

  The match began, and Otter tested her defenses with a few probing strikes, looking for openings. None appeared.

  Eda didn’t overextend, didn’t lunge recklessly like Marvin had. Instead, she used her shield to deflect his rapier, forcing him back, then retaliated with quick, sharp strikes.

  Otter tried to sidestep, but she pressed too close, keeping him on the defensive.

  He took two hits in quick succession.

  Point: Eda.

  Point: Eda.

  Otter exhaled sharply. Think. Improvise..

  Instead of waiting for her to attack, he took the initiative, feinting a strike toward her shielded left side. As expected, she shifted her weight to brace for impact, but Otter never committed to the swing. Instead, he abruptly changed direction, pivoting low and darting to her exposed right. Before she could fully recover, he struck a clean hit to her ribs.

  Point: Otter.

  Eda’s lips pressed into a thin line. She adjusted too, tightening her defenses even more.

  The fight stretched on, each of them scoring, neither gaining the upper hand.

  Four to four. Match point.

  Otter was breathing hard now. His arms ached, and his legs burned from dodging and feinting.

  Eda, on the other hand, still looked composed—determined, but not nearly as winded as he was.

  Otter swallowed. He needed to end this quickly.

  Eda stepped in, leading with her shield, preparing a powerful downward strike. Otter braced himself to dodge—

  Then the ground beneath him shifted.

  His foot slipped on a loose stone, sending him stumbling forward—directly into Eda’s shield arm.

  Her swing went wide as Otter collided into her unsteadily, his rapier accidentally flicking against her side before they both staggered apart.

  Point: Otter.

  Silence.

  Otter blinked.

  Eda scowled, eyes darting from the stone he had tripped on to Master Horvan, who raised an eyebrow.

  “The strike was clean,” the instructor said. “Point awarded. Match over.”

  Otter stood there, stunned.

  Did I just win… by tripping?

  Levi’s cackle from the sidelines confirmed it.

  Eda sighed, rubbing her temples, but eventually offered a begrudging nod. “Luck’s on your side, Bennett.”

  Otter wasn’t sure whether to feel embarrassed or victorious.

  Either way, he was moving to the next round.

  Jasper Thorne stood across the ring glaring at Otter. Luck may have been on his side in the last round, but it certainly wasn’t now. He’d done his best to avoid the brutish teen for weeks, but now there was no getting around it. He was about to get his ass kicked.

  Otter looked at the third year who’d be judging their match. “Can I concede?”

  The older student stared at him, mouth slightly open. “What?”

  “Can I concede the match?”

  Jasper narrowed his eyes. He must have been hoping for the chance to thrash Otter good.

  Master Horvan stepped up the ring. “Explain,” he commanded.

  Otter hesitated only a second. “Well, sir…I may have made it to the third round, but I’m no match for Jasper. I’ve watched him all semester. He’s far better than I am. I have no illusions that I can win.”

  Master Horvan studied Otter for a long moment, his sharp eyes assessing something beyond just his stance. Then, with a short nod, he said, "Very well. I accept your concession."

  A ripple of murmurs spread through the watching students. Some looked confused, others disappointed—no doubt expecting a dramatic fight. Jasper, however, seemed torn between smug satisfaction and something more complicated.

  Horvan turned to address the gathered students. "There are those who will say a warrior should never back down from a challenge. That to yield is to show weakness." His voice carried easily across the training yard. "But true wisdom lies in knowing when to fight and when to walk away."

  He glanced at Otter, then back at the students. "Bravery is not recklessness. If you walk into battle knowing you will lose, knowing you will gain nothing from the struggle except injury and wasted effort—what have you truly accomplished? Strategy is the mark of a survivor. And survivors are the ones who live to fight another day."

  Otter let out a slow breath. He hadn't expected validation from Horvan, but hearing those words made the knot in his stomach loosen slightly.

  Jasper, however, was scowling. His hands were clenched at his sides. Otter braced himself for a sneer, an insult—something to turn this into another moment of humiliation. But then… Jasper did something unexpected.

  He scoffed, shaking his head. "Seems you got lucky again. I’d have flattened you." But there was no real venom in his tone. Instead, there was an almost grudging acknowledgment in his gaze as he looked at Otter. A flicker of something that might have been respect—or at least, the realization that Otter wasn’t as idiotic as he’d once assumed.

  Otter met Jasper’s gaze, then gave a small shrug, as if to say, Yep. Pretty much.

  Jasper huffed but didn’t press the issue.

  Horvan gestured for Otter to step out of the ring, then turned back to Jasper. "Your match is concluded. You advance to the next round."

  Jasper gave a curt nod, but his eyes lingered on Otter for just a second longer before turning away.

  As Otter stepped out of the sparring ring, he exhaled slowly. Maybe he’d given up a chance to prove himself. Maybe some students would think less of him for it.

  But he knew the truth.

  He wasn’t a fighter. He never would be. His strength would have to lie elsewhere.

  And as he walked past the other students—some of whom were watching with curiosity, others with something like newfound consideration—he realized something else.

  Jasper hadn’t looked at him like a joke. Not this time.

  But Lyle and Torrin were glaring. There was nothing short of hatred in their eyes. If they thought they could get away with giving him a beating in front of all these people, they’d probably try. Neither of them had made it past the second round. Which meant they now knew Otter could hold his own in a fight. Not to mention Liora was there.

  Otter still didn’t know what had happened between Lyle, Torrin, and Liora, but the bullies hadn’t come after him since the closet incident. Once, he saw them walking toward him in the courtyard when they abruptly changed direction. A moment later Liora caught up to him and walked with him to the mess hall. He didn’t ask about it, and she didn’t tell. Whatever she’d said or done, though, has made his life easier over the last several weeks.

  Otter stuck around to see who would win. His money, of course, was on Jasper. Until he realized who he’d be fighting in the final round. Liora.

  If Otter had been nervous before his own matches, he was absolutely beside himself with anxiety as they shook hands and took their places in the ring.

  Jasper showed no sign of the disdain he held for Otter when facing Liora. He viewed her as an equal, a worthy opponent.

  The air in the training yard felt charged as Liora and Jasper squared off. Unlike Otter’s match, this wasn’t a one-sided affair—both of them had reputations as the strongest fighters in the class. The crowd sensed it too, leaning in, watching every move with anticipation.

  Master Horvan gave the signal, and the match began.

  The two fighters were a blur of motion, trading blows and parries faster than Otter could track. Every clash sent a jolt of electricity down his back. The two seemed evenly matched, then, after several long moments, Jasper scored the first point.

  Liora wasn’t one to crumble under pressure, however, and the next point went to her. Back and forth they went for what seemed like an eternity, until Jasper finally scored the final point. By the time it was over, both Fighters were drenched in sweat, and the entire class was cheering them both. Even Horvan was grinning from ear to ear at the display of prowess from these two first-year students.

  With their final exam behind them, the atmosphere was filled with celebratory joy. But the most exciting announcement was yet to come.