Erik breathed deeply, taking in the situation. He had learned to keep himself calm during tension, as clouding his mind was asking to die.

  His gaze fell on Eleanor, her limping body making her way to them. Was she the cause of the smoke? Why was she here?

  Is that blood… He mused as the red fluid trickled down from her thigh and arm.

  Veronica rushed forward, holding Eleanor’s uninjured arm over her neck and helping her walk. “What happened?”

  Eleanor winced, clutching her wounded thigh. “It’s not just a bandit… His daggers—they cut through magic—”

  Before she could finish, the swirling smoke parted, revealing the faint sparkle of twin blades. The figure moved with inhuman speed, a blur slicing through the cloud, heading straight for Veronica and Eleanor.

  Erik’s eyes sharpened.

  The boy lunged forward, the world narrowing to the glint of the twin blades slicing toward the girls. His hands clamped onto the man’s wrists mid-strike, halting the deadly arc a breath away from their throats. The clash sent a jolt through Erik’s arms, but he didn’t flinch.

  Before the man could react, Erik drove his knee into his stomach with all he had. The force sent him staggering back, coughing for air.

  “You brat…” he growled, straightening as the smoke cleared. His pale skin and white hair framed his look of malice. “I am Kael, the Executioner. I’ve killed over a dozen mages. You’re next.”

  Erik’s lips curled into a grin. He tensed his muscles slightly, mana rising to empower them. Erik clenched his fists, small blazes circling them. “You’re too proud for someone who’s already losing.”

  Erik didn’t need a proper explanation of what was happening. As much as he disliked Eleanor, it seemed this man wanted to kill her—and now his friend, Veronica, as well. He wouldn’t let that happen.

  Kael’s face sharpened, his eyes narrowing. Then, with a growl, he shot forward, blades aimed at Erik’s heart.

  Erik sidestepped smoothly, catching Kael’s wrist mid-swing and pulling it downward. He twisted, driving his elbow into Kael’s ribs before delivering a crushing kick to the thigh.

  Kael stumbled, gasping, but recovered quickly. His daggers carved the air as he spun toward Erik. Erik leaned back, the blades narrowly missing his throat, the wind of their passage cold against his skin.

  “[Ablaze],” Erik muttered, his fists igniting with intense flames. His lack of gauntlets make the fire sear into his skin, making him grit his teeth—he was used to it, however. The heat shimmered, reflecting in Kael’s wide eyes.

  As he went for a strike, Kael’s body tensed, and his expression shifted to one of fear. “[Shadow Step]!” he yelped, vanishing into a blur, leaving only a trail of dust and displaced air.

  Erik’s heart surged, his gaze darting to his side. Kael wouldn’t flee—not when there were easier targets.

  His eyes found Veronica, her magic weaving effortlessly. Water tentacles lashed out, striking down thugs who rushed into the fray. She moved with measured precision, her deep blue eyes sharp as steel. Nearby, Eleanor leaned against a wall, clutching her thigh, her breaths ragged but steady.

  Not after them? That meant—

  Erik spun, his eyes widening as the blade stopped centimeters from his face. Instinctively, his hand shot up, catching the dagger mid-swing. The edge cut between his fingers, warm blood dripping between them, staining the steel before Erik wrapped them around the blade.

  Kael laughed in a cruel tone. “Let’s see you stop this!” he sneered, twisting the blade slightly, making Erik wince. Kael lunged with his second dagger, a blur aimed for Erik’s ribs.

  Erik ducked just in time, the cold edge grazing past his shoulder. Using his grip on the first blade, he yanked Kael closer. Kael’s grin faltered, his eyes widened slightly, and his mouth stood slightly agape. The confusion was palpable, making Erik grin.

  Erik’s free hand ignited, flames roaring to life as he channeled mana. “[Fireball]!” he roared, the spell forming above his palm.

  “You—”

  Erik slammed the fiery sphere into the Executioner’s stomach.

  Boom.

  An explosion of flames hurled him backward into a stone wall. The impact reverberated with a series of sharp cracks as the stone buckled and fractured, partially embedding him within the jagged surface.

  Erik staggered backward, shaking his bloodied hand.

  Sheesh, I guess I went a bit overboard.

  Erik watched the hooded men writhe, cough blood, and hold his stomach as his clothes and skin were now charred.

  “Fuck. You brat… I’ll kill you!” he shouted, his sharp gaze validating his threat.

  Erik could only chuckle at this, however. That man was weak compared to the people he’d fought before. Weaker than Kyle, than Helen, than that demon in the dungeon. He was nothing.

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  The boy raised his hand, fire flickering to life around it. “I’ll show you what we from the academy can do. [Blaze Cage],” and with those words, tendrils of fire shot from his hand, enveloping the man.

  “You… you think you can restrain me? I’ll just cut through…” his bravado disappeared as quickly as it had arrived when he noticed one simple detail—his daggers were not among his possessions anymore.

  His hands trembled slightly as realization dawned. The weapons, his lifeline, were nowhere to be seen. His breaths came in ragged gasps now.

  Erik smirked, stepping forward. “Looking for these?” He tossed one dagger casually into the air before catching it by the hilt. The weapon glinted briefly, still coated in his blood.

  Kael’s jaw tightened, his lips curling into a snarl. “You—”

  Before he could finish, flames erupted from the ground, spiraling upward and consuming him in a fiery pillar. The sheer heat cracked the already fractured wall behind him, sending pieces of stone tumbling to the ground. When the flames subsided, Kael slumped unconscious amidst the rubble, smoke rising from his battered form.

  Erik straightened, looking proud of what he did. Just a few months ago, this would’ve been a battle for his life, and now he didn’t even need to use his strongest spells.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” Erik muttered under his breath, the stinging feeling of the cut slowly coming back to life as the adrenaline subsided.

  “Hey…” Veronica’s voice cut through the quiet. Erik turned, watching her approach slowly, her gaze flicking from the unconscious Kael to the ruined wall and finally to her surroundings. “I think you might have gone a bit overboard,” she said, gesturing toward the side.

  Erik followed her finger, his eyes widening as he noticed a full-on crowd had gathered.

  A few children clung to their parents, wide-eyed and trembling. One old man muttered something about "the academy brats bringing chaos wherever they go."

  “A, shit…” he muttered as things settled in.

  He turned toward Eleanor, who was still leaning against the wall, watching the exchange with a bemused expression.

  “We should probably get going before someone decides to call the guards,” Veronica continued.

  “Yeap, agreed,” Erik said, rushing forward to help Eleanor to her feet. His gaze fell on her wounds. They weren’t life-threatening—at least not yet—but she had lost more blood than what was usually fine.

  Eleanor seemed to tremble as he touched her. Erik closed his eyelids slightly. It was surprising, wasn’t it? They had the worst relationship possible, but he saved her now. Would she be grateful for this? Would she hate him?

  Erik couldn’t be much worried, but the thought lingered as they left to get medical attention at the academy.

  Erik sat on the edge of a chair in the infirmary, flexing his hand experimentally. The mage had healed his wounds—albeit with a stern scolding about how often he found himself in need of healing magic.

  Veronica had gone home after leaving them at the infirmary, saying that they should meet again in better circumstances.

  Across the room, Eleanor sat silently, her back straight despite the lingering exhaustion evident in her posture. Erik glanced at her briefly before averting his gaze, unsure of what to say.

  The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until Eleanor finally broke it.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Erik looked up, surprised by the words. He could never expect to hear that from her. Eleanor’s gaze was fixed on her lap, her hands clenched tightly together.

  “For saving me,” she clarified. Her tone carried an edge, as though the words were dragged out against her will.

  “You’re welcome,” Erik replied, his voice softer than usual. He hesitated before adding, “I couldn’t just leave you there.”

  Eleanor’s lips pressed themselves, she made a “hmm” sound before shaking her head. “I don’t understand you,” she admitted. “Why did you save me? Why? After you humiliated me, after…” her words stopped, her gaze shifting down. “Never mind,” she said in a defeated tone, as if her own argument had fallen by itself.

  Erik leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Maybe because I don’t hate you, never humiliated you, or tried to even bother you,” he said simply. “I never have.”

  She furrowed her brow, her eyes glimmered and soon tears ran down her cheeks. “But… why not… all I ever did was hate you. I wanted to defeat you, hurt you, feed my own… ego,” she said, her voice strained before covering her face.

  “Well,” Erik said calmly. “I don’t like you either, but I’m not that cold to let you die.”

  After he said those words, there was silence. She froze in her sobs. Erik could make out her lips moving, muttering something, but it was way too low to understand.

  Finally, her gaze met his, her teary but determined look facing his own. “Honestly… seeing you reminds me of everything I’ve lost. My mother, my father… honor…”

  Erik raised an eyebrow. Indeed, he had heard her mother had died, but his knowledge didn’t go further than that.

  “And what exactly have I done to make you think of that?” He asked. Just like last time, Eleanor said Erik’s fault for all of this was for intertwining with the Duke, for making the two families closer and somehow making them lose honor.

  It was never his choice, though. After that last incident where Phillips had saved him, they could have gone separate ways, but the kind noble decided to help. Perhaps she didn’t realize that yet.

  “Nothing…”

  Eleanor wiped her tears away, her fingers lingering on her face as if she were still processing her thoughts. She didn’t offer an explanation or any more words of frustration. Instead, her eyes lost focus, and her gaze drifted toward the floor.

  The silence between them was heavy, but neither of them seemed willing to break it just yet.

  Erik shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure what to say to ease the tension or even just get this over with. He felt bad in a way that she ended up with those ideas, however, that part of him was a minor one. In actuality, every fiber of his being was annoyed that she managed to feel that way about him—someone she didn’t even try to know.

  Erik sighed.

  "Can we start from zero?" he asked quietly. "Forget the past... everything that’s happened. Just... start over, without all that anger, all that history between us. Can we do that?" In his mind, this was the only logical step. Forget and forgive everything that happened between them, start anew, and build a better ambiance.

  Eleanor’s eyes flickered up to meet his, her expression unreadable for a moment. She didn’t speak right away. He could see the hesitation in her gaze, the wariness. But after a long moment, she exhaled slowly and looked away again.

  "I don’t know," she said softly. "I’m not sure how to start over."

  “Well, it's either that or… we will keep antagonizing each other forever. Our parents seem like they’re set on being together, so it's better to avoid that.” Erik interlaced his fingers, speaking methodically.

  She slowly nodded.

  "Alright," she said quietly. "I think I like that… I’ll set my past aside.”

  Erik smiled, a brief, genuine curve of his lips. “Good. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

  For the first time ever, there was no bitterness between them. No past to drag them down. It wasn’t a promise of instant friendship, but it was a fresh start.

  From that moment on, they would try their best to get along, each step a little lighter than the last. And though the road ahead was uncertain, the burden of their history felt a little less heavy.