Down on the sands, magical barriers sectioned off the arena, giving each of the eight candidates a small practice pen with miniature versions of the obstacles. The cages were opened.
Up in the spectator box, Cassian stretched his legs out, resting his boots on the railing.
"An hour of watching them try to teach giant, angry dogs how to play fetch. Thrilling."
"They aren't dogs, Cassian, they're wild beasts, look at the sheer muscle mass on them. One wrong move and a tamer loses an arm."
Rina corrected, pulling out her notebook.
Ray didn't join the banter. He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto the practice pens. This was an entirely new dynamic to study. He pushed his focus deep, activating the Grizzled Commander’s ‘Commander's Eye’ skill to track the physical vectors of the beasts. But tactical geometry wasn't enough to understand living, breathing monsters. He needed something more primal.
He reached into his mental roster and initiated a Concurrent Partial Immersion, calling upon his somewhat new archetype: the Primal Naturalist.
Instantly, the geometric overlays of the Commander’s Eye merged with a raw, sensory influx.
Naturalist: "Crikey, smell that, Ray? The air is absolutely thick with it! Fear. Aggression. A bit of confusion. But look at the sheer muscle mass on those beauties down there! Absolutely gorgeous creatures!"
The Primal Naturalist’s voice echoed in Ray’s mind, booming with boundless, reckless enthusiasm.
Naturalist: "These are apex predators of the deep timber, mate. The stadium is a right sensory nightmare for 'em. I can practically feel the noise battering their ears. Look at that defensive posture, hips lowered, ears pinned back. They’re coiled like springs, ready for a lethal strike!"
Commander: "Keep your focus sharp, kid, don't let the nature boy distract you. Those aren't pets; they are highly volatile biological assets. And the handler in pen three is about to trigger a detonation."
The Grizzled Commander cut in dryly, his voice rumbling with pragmatic authority. A phantom puff of cigar smoke drifted across Ray's mental vision.
Ray watched as the tamers struggled. In pen three, an arrogant student tried to yell at his Dire Wolf to step onto a miniature seesaw.
Commander: "Observe that participant. Tactical positioning is entirely compromised. He’s blocking the asset's primary escape path while elevating his volume, boxing a hostile variable into a corner. It's a fundamental failure in unit management."
Naturalist: "Too right! He’s speaking the language of prey! All loud, panicky, and forceful. That magnificent beast doesn't respect him; it’s just tolerating him. If he keeps poking it, he’s gonna get bitten, and it’s gonna be a brilliant display of natural selection!"
Commander: "Agreed. They better start drafting a casualty report."
The Commander muttered with a chuckle.
As the hour dragged on, Bruce Doyle’s platform drifted slightly lower. The announcer looked incredibly haggard. A terrified academy runner had just sprinted onto the platform, handing Bruce a thick stack of parchment before fleeing.
Bruce stared at the parchment, his soul visibly leaving his body. He keyed his voice amplifying crystal, his professional tone flattening into a hollow, deadpan drone.
"While our tamers clear the arena... the organizers would like me to remind you that this afternoon's carnage is proudly sponsored by Madam Agnes’ Elixirs in the West Concourse."
Bruce swallowed hard, closing his eyes.
"Is the sight of blood making you woozy? Buy two health potions and get a free bandage. Because dying is... so last year. Mention the word 'CARNAGE' and get ten percent off your purchase."
Cassian burst into a sharp, barking laugh, slapping his knee.
"Oh, what the hell was that? The humiliation! It’s beautiful!"
Ten minutes later, Bruce’s voice echoed again, sounding even more miserable.
"Are you tired of your armor folding like cheap parchment? Come to Iron & Thread..."
Bruce paused, a look of profound disgust crossing his face as he read the next line. He leaned closer to the crystal, sounding exhausted.
"Our chest plates are so sturdy, they’ll make your enemies... 'Fabricate’ an excuse to flee."
Bruce physically recoiled from his podium, burying his face in his hands as groans echoed throughout the Grand Arena.
"I didn't write that."
He muttered away from the crystal.
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"Please direct your complaints to the sponsors."
"That is not right. He is suffering."
Svane noted with a deep, rumbling chuckle.
"Good. It builds character."
Rina grinned.
When the one-hour timer finally ended, the practice barriers dropped. The crowd, adequately fueled by overpriced basilisk skewers and terrible puns, roared back to life.
The runs began one by one, and it was a disaster of miscommunication.
The arrogant participant from pen three stepped up for his official run. He immediately began shouting, trying to force his Dire Wolf into the Shadow-Bramble Tube. The wolf, completely overwhelmed by the explosive cheers of the crowd and the hissing of the nearby Geyser Grid, finally snapped. It didn't bite him, but it let out a terrifying, ear-splitting roar, baring teeth the size of daggers, forcing the terrified student to scramble backward into the dirt.
"And that is a disqualification!"
Bruce yelled, quickly recovering his showman persona.
"Proctors, secure the beast! A harsh reminder that these are not house pets!"
Three more candidates failed in rapid succession. The sensory overload of the actual course shattered whatever fragile control they had established in the practice pens.
Then, Candidate 8 stepped to the starting line. She was the petite 3rd-Circle Ironwood from the minor College of Druidic Arts (Arcanum) who had used the massive Bear Aura to terrify her wolf in the first round.
She flared her Alpha Aura immediately. The massive spectral bear flickered behind her.
Naturalist: "Oh, have a look at that, mate. An absolute false alpha! She’s wearing the scent of a predator, right enough, but she isn't leading the pack. She’s just bullying the poor bloke! Watch the gorgeous beast's tail, tucked right up tight under the belly. It’s absolutely paralyzed by the threat of violence, completely terrified! That’s no way to treat such a magnificent creature!"
The bell rang. The girl ran forward, projecting her terrifying intent. The Dire Wolf moved, but it was trembling. It balked at the Geyser Grid, flinching violently at every burst of steam. The Ironwood girl had to stop, turn around, and blast the wolf with another wave of crushing Alpha Aura to force it through. It crawled into the Shadow-Bramble Tube with a pathetic whine, shivering the entire way.
She managed to complete the circuit, dragging the terrified beast over the finish line through sheer psychic intimidation.