The Chosen One

• [ 18 ] •

Rose's POV

I walk down the stadium steps after my name echos through the dome like structure. I enter the arena by pushing open the fence. I walk towards the center of the area, in front of Headmaster Jackson, waiting to be given instructions.

"Your placement test will begin with weaponry, then combat, each of your elements, then lastly, dragon taming." His voice amplified by the microphones. "Proceed to the table to pick out your favorable weapons, or you may use your own if that is preferred. You will be assigned to hit a number of moving targets at a distance of 10 meters away, then 15, then 20. After this, we will see how well you do the same with a bow and arrow from longer distances. Finally, your weaponry assessment will be completed when you go against the top swordsman in Level 2." I hear hundreds of gasps in the crowd. Surely I thought my test would be difficult, but I never saw that coming. "You may head to the weapons table now." Headmaster finishes.

I walk my way over to the table set up on the side of the arena. I see an assortment of knives, daggers, swords and other weapons. I don't even glance at the other swords, knowing my imperium sword is more than worthy. What I take a look at are the throwing knives, perfect for taking down a target and delaying their escape. I test out the weight in my hands, finding it perfect for the occasion. I don't want to use my knives because they are designed to stab at close range, not be thrown from long range. Although, if needed, my knives would do a sufficient enough job. I grab the twelve set of throwing knives, holding them expertly.

"The targets will be moving in every direction of you, your job is hit your targets with accuracy and precision. Don't be discouraged if you do not hit the targets, it will be difficult. The test begins in 20 seconds, good luck." Headmaster says. I all but scoff in my head, 10 meters is nothing, 15 is average, 20 is what I warm up with. Throwing knives is my worst skill in weaponry, still very advanced compared to other 15 year olds. I can practically feel the smirks the golden boys are giving Headmaster, if only he knew what I was capable of. Ten seconds before my test begins, I clear my head of my thoughts, ridding myself of nerves. I close my eyes and focus soley on the sounds I hear, the slight difference in breeze.
3... I count in my head.
2... I can do this.
1... Showtime!

With eyes remaining closed, I throw one of the knives northeast to my position. I feel the tiniest bit of difference in wind current against my skin. I throw the next knife southeast to where I am. I continue this process with my eyes remaining closed, finally throwing the last knife southwest to my slightly adjusted position. I open my eyes and see all 12 targets stopped with knives sticking out dead center, bullseye. The crowd is silent, obviously reeling back their previous judgement of me. That took a while for me to master, not trying to lie.

When round 2 begins, after I collect each throwing knife from my previous targets, I keep my eyes open. I do the same thing I did for the 10 meter targets, feeling for the difference in wind resistance. As well as before, I have 12 identical targets, all with knives hitting the center of the bullseye.

When round 3 approaches, I go for a different tactic. I take off my shoes and socks, my bare feet now touching the dirt ground. When the 20 meter targets begin moving, I listen carefully and feel for the vibrations in the ground. I feel one dead west of where I am, throwing my knife at the target with more force. I hit the bullseye but it wasn't centered. I have no time to further think about it, with another target moving slightly in between southeast and south of where I am. I throw the knives with utmost precision in a rhythm. When I am all out of knives, I look up at the Headmaster; he nods his head in approval. A single bead of sweat trickles down the side of my face.