Extra's POV: I am the Sixteenth Son

The Echovault felt like stepping into a freezer.

The lights were turned down low, casting long shadows that danced on the walls. The air buzzed with that heavy feeling it always had when too much mana had been thrown around the ring. Tiny sparkles of leftover mana still glittered on the stone floor, like ghosts from all the fights that happened earlier. But none of that bothered Ares one bit.

His boots made scraping sounds on the floor as he walked into the practice ring again. His whole body still hurt from his last dance with the Gloomantula. His shoulder felt like someone had punched it where one of those mana-sucking threads had grabbed him earlier. A small burn mark on his arm looked like a brand. But he wasn't here to rest and recover.

He was here to win.

"Didn't think you had it in you" Ethan said, spinning a key between his fingers like a coin trick. He sat behind the Vault's control desk, looking amused. "What is this now? Round four? Five? I'm losing count."

Ares didn't answer right away. He walked to the dead center of the ring and dropped into his fighting stance, feet spread, knees bent, ready to spring. When he spoke, his voice came out quiet but sharp as a blade. "Run it."

Ethan let out a laugh that echoed off the walls. "And you wonder why the other second-years think you've lost your marbles."

The vault made a hissing sound as the echo core fired up. Mana circles lit up on the floor like someone had drawn them with liquid fire. The Gloomantula started taking shape again, black armor that didn't shine, crouched low and wide, moving with those creepy silent steps that always made Ares think of death sneaking up behind you.

Ares felt his heart start racing. His hands shook, but not from being scared. He was excited. Hungry.

The fight started.

This time, Ares moved differently. He'd learned from getting his butt kicked three times before. When the spider lunged left, he didn't chase it. When it shot webs, he rolled under them instead of jumping over. When it made that clicking sound, he knew it was trying to hear where he was.

'Come on,' he thought, dodging a leg that could have taken his head off. 'I know your tricks now.'

The Gloomantula paused, just for a heartbeat, and Ares saw his chance. He fake-stepped right, then spun left with a Static Bolt crackling between his fingers. The spider bought the fake and jumped the wrong way.

Almost. He almost had it.

But 'almost' didn't count when the spider's other leg swept his feet and sent him flying into the wall.

---

Thirty minutes later, Ares sat outside the ring chamber, looking like he'd been dunked in a river. His shirt stuck to his back like wet paper, and he breathed in short, quick puffs. The fight had ended with him barely dodging a final slam that would have turned him into pancake before the Gloomantula dissipated in red shatters of light, another loss.

"You lasted longer this time," Ethan said, tossing him a water bottle that Ares caught with shaky hands. "But your left side's still wide open when you switch from ice to lightning. If that were real, that spider would've eaten you alive, with that many gaps."

"I know," Ares said between gulps of water. His voice was rough, but his eyes were bright. "But I saw something new today. It hesitated. I almost tricked it into the wrong move."

"Almost doesn't mean squat unless the spider's the one flat on its back."

Ares gave a tired smile that looked more like a wolf showing teeth. "I'll be back tomorrow."

Ethan snorted like a horse. "Of course you will. Just don't pass out in my vault, okay? Fainting students are terrible for my reputation."

The bell rang from somewhere in the castle, deep and loud. Ares stood up, his whole body complaining, and stretched like a cat. The hallways were starting to empty out. Everyone knew what time it was.

Curfew hit at 7 sharp.

And Ares had never broken it. Not once.

Not yet.

---

Far away in the fancy finalist wing, shadows moved under thick velvet curtains in a private study room. Candles burned low, making the room smell like wax and secrets. The scent of herb tea floated in the air like invisible smoke.

Vael de Eisenklinge stood by the tall window, watching the moon paint silver lines across the castle rooftops. The message from Cassia still sat on his desk, every word burned into his brain like a hot iron.

Behind him, Juno de Eisenklinge stood with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed like he was solving a hard puzzle. The fourth-year class captain had heard the plan twice already. He didn't need to hear it again. But Vael liked saying things out loud, liked how pretty the words sounded, even when those words meant someone was going to die.

"Tomorrow," Vael said, his voice soft and smooth like silk that could cut. "He finishes training right before the seventh bell. Every single day. You could set a clock by it."

He sipped his tea with his eyes closed, looking peaceful as a sleeping cat. "You'll pull the guards away from the courtyard. Get them busy in the west wing. Five minutes. That's all the time I need."

"You sure he'll be walking alone?" Juno asked.

"He always is." Vael opened his eyes, and they looked like two black holes under his pale lashes.

Juno didn't say anything back. He just gave one short nod, turned around, and left through the side door.

Only after the door clicked shut did the shadow behind the bookshelf finally move.

Elyra, who was really Nyla Vayn, though nobody knew that secret, didn't budge from her hiding spot. She'd heard every word. Every plan. Every detail. The silver needle tucked in her sleeve still dripped with fresh poison that could stop a heart faster than a snap.

She wasn't here to help Vael.

She was here to finish what Cassia had ordered, and let Vael take the blame when the dust settled.

Two hunters. One target. 

This was going to get messy.

---

Back in the second-year dorm wing, Ares stumbled into his room, peeled off his soaked shirt like he was shedding snake skin, and fell onto his bed with a groan that came from his toes.

Every muscle in his body felt like it was on fire. His chest felt like someone had wrapped chains around it. But deep in his heart, he felt something else growing.

A storm. Building slow and steady, right under his skin.

He'd been so close today. The Gloomantula wasn't some unbeatable monster anymore. Tomorrow, he'd push even harder. He'd bait it again, but better this time. He'd find the beat behind how it moved.

He 'would' win.

But outside his small window, the night wind didn't sound friendly. It whistled through the castle halls like a warning. Like sharp teeth hiding behind a pretty smile.

Ares closed his eyes, already dreaming of tomorrow's fight. He had no idea that while he planned his next move against a fake spider, real predators were sharpening their claws for him.

---

Tomorrow, the blade would fall.

And Ares Eisenklinge would walk straight into the trap with a smile on his face.

The only question was: which hunter would strike first?

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