Following Celica’s directions, Ethan and Daniel made their way past the west courtyard, through a worn cobblestone path that led to a quiet clearing near the old aqueduct.

  That’s when they saw him—Christopher.

  And he wasn’t alone.

  He was locked in a vicious duel against an older student—clearly a third-year, judging by the insignia on his uniform and the raw, practiced force in his attacks. The air was thick with tension. Each csh of their bdes rang out like thunder, fast and unforgiving, as if neither of them had any intention of holding back.

  “Holy shit,” Daniel breathed. “This is insane.”

  “This doesn’t look like training…” Ethan muttered, already shifting on his feet. “Is this even allowed?”

  They watched as Christopher barely deflected a particurly nasty swing. His stance was solid, but his breathing was off. His arms were slowing.

  He was losing.

  “What do we do?” Daniel asked, eyes darting between the two combatants. “We can’t just stand here and watch him get beat!”

  Ethan hesitated—but only for a second. “Screw it. Let’s go.”

  Without another word, they rushed in.

  The third-year raised his sword again—and suddenly, both his arms were grabbed from behind, locked tight by Ethan and Daniel.

  “What the—!?”

  CRACK!

  Christopher’s sword crashed down hard, striking the older boy squarely on the crown of his head. The blow echoed through the trees. The third-year’s legs buckled, and he colpsed.

  For a long, terrible second, no one moved.

  Then Christopher spun toward them, wide-eyed and livid.

  “What the fuck are you two doing!?” he roared.

  “We thought you were in trouble!” Ethan blurted out.

  “You were losing!” Daniel added. “We were trying to help!”

  “Help?” Christopher barked. “That was on purpose! I paid him to fight me for real!”

  “What?”

  “I wanted to test the gap. First-year top versus third-year top. No holding back. He agreed—I paid him!”

  “Oh… oh shit,” Ethan muttered.

  Christopher groaned, crouching next to the unconscious boy. “He’s gonna kill me when he wakes up…”

  “You mean… if he remembers waking up,” Daniel said, half-joking.

  “Not helping. Now quit standing there and help me carry him to the infirmary!”

  The two grabbed the uppercssman under the arms and legs, hauling him up.

  Ethan sighed. “This better not go on our records.”

  “Too te to worry about that now,” Christopher grunted, leading the way. “Next time? Knock first.”

  And with that, the three of them disappeared into the woods, dragging an unconscious third-year behind them like the aftermath of a very poorly timed intervention.

  The infirmary door smmed open with a thud as Christopher led the way, Ethan and Daniel trailing behind, carrying the unconscious uppercssman between them. They set him carefully onto one of the padded beds, but not a second ter—

  “Who in the nine hells thought it was a good idea to bring a half-dead student in like a sack of potatoes!?”

  Professor Alric’s voice boomed from the far side of the room. He stormed over, a vial still in his gloved hand, eyes already narrowing behind his spectacles as he took in the sight before him.

  “I—He’s not dead, right?” Daniel asked cautiously.

  Alric’s gre silenced him instantly.

  He turned his attention to the unconscious third-year and muttered something under his breath. With a practiced motion, he peeled off the boy’s jacket and tunic, exposing a nasty bruise blooming across his scalp and a faint trickle of blood running down from a cracked brow.

  “Idiots,” Alric grumbled, already tracing a glowing circle in the air. “Absolute idiots. Did your generation grow up without any sense?”

  None of the three dared to speak as the old professor cast a sequence of diagnostic spells—soft, pale blue glyphs that hovered and pulsed gently over the student’s body. A low hum filled the room as the magic activated, revealing the full extent of the injury.

  Alric sighed again, shaking his head. “Concussion. Nothing fatal… but another centimeter and I’d be treating a corpse.”

  He pulled a few bottles from the shelf, mixing them quickly into a thick, shimmering liquid, and poured it carefully between the boy’s lips while supporting his head.

  Only after confirming that the worst had passed did he finally turn back to the trio.

  “You three were sparring in the forest, weren’t you?”

  “…Yes, sir,” Christopher admitted.

  Alric pinched the bridge of his nose. “How many times do I have to say this? Sparring outside the designated arenas is prohibited. Those areas are crafted specifically with safety enchantments—impact wards, blood inhibitors, death-stoppers. Out there in the woods, you’ve got none of that. Just you and your bright ideas and your very breakable bones.”

  Ethan swallowed, his throat dry. “We didn’t— I mean, it wasn’t supposed to go that far.”

  “Of course it wasn’t,” Alric said coolly. “It never is. Until someone dies.”

  The room fell silent.

  He wiped his hands on a cloth and sat down heavily in his chair, casting one st gnce at the boy resting on the bed.

  “For your sakes—and his—I won’t report this to the Dean. But if I see any of your faces in here again because of an unsanctioned duel, you can be damn sure I’ll have your whole css mopping blood out of the stables for a month.”

  “Yes, Professor,” all three of them muttered at once.

  “…Good. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

  As soon as they stepped out of the infirmary and the door shut behind them, Daniel spun around, hands up in surrender.

  “We’re sorry! Really!” he said quickly. “We thought you were actually in danger back there!”

  Ethan nodded, backing him up. “You were losing ground, and the guy looked a bit too into it. We thought—”

  “That you’d jump in and ruin my training?” Christopher cut in, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah, that’s one way to help.”

  “Come on, man,” Daniel pleaded. “If you saw it from our side, you’d have done the same. And after seeing you being attacked by those guys before we had plenty of motives to believe it was happening again!”

  Christopher exhaled slowly, clearly still annoyed. “…Fine. I’ll forgive you.”

  Both boys started to rex, until he added:

  “But only if he—” he jabbed a thumb toward the infirmary— “forgives you too.”

  “…Noted,” Ethan muttered, shoulders slumping.

  “Now,” Christopher folded his arms, “why the hell were you there anyway?”

  Daniel coughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. “Well… it’s about the tournament. You know, the inter-academy one?”

  Christopher raised a brow, arms casually crossed. “Yeah?”

  “We were thinking of putting together a team,” Daniel said, gncing between Ethan and Christopher, “and we wanted to invite you.”

  Christopher shook his head almost immediately. “Appreciate the thought, but I’m already part of a team.”

  Daniel blinked. “You are?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been pnning this since day one,” Christopher replied. “My team’s got Ravyn Albright from the Mage css and Kael Varn from the Rangers css.”

  Ethan raised his brows. “Aren't those the top students from each css? That’s quite the lineup!”

  “Exactly! I wanted to bring Eliza in too,” Christopher added, “but she turned me down. Said she’s too busy studying.”

  “That means you’re still missing a Healer, right?” Ethan said, seizing the opening.

  “Yeah, just one spot left but-”

  “Then I nominate Daniel!” Ethan decred, stepping behind him and giving him a friendly shove forward.

  “Wait—what!?” Daniel staggered, looking back in shock. “Why me? What about you!?”

  “I told you before, I’m not really interested in joining the tournament.” Ethan shrugged. “Besides, this is your shot to stand on the best team in the year. You’d be crazy not to go for it.”

  Christopher tilted his head, studying Daniel. “He might be right. But I’m not taking someone just because they’re enthusiastic.”

  Ethan smirked. “Then how about a quick duel? Let Daniel show you what he’s got.”

  Daniel waved his hands wildly. “Are you kidding me!? He’s the strongest first-year and you’re throwing me at him like I’m monster bait!”

  “You want the spot or not?” Ethan said, grinning. “Come on. Prove you’re worthy.”

  Christopher chuckled, cracking his knuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll hold back... a little.”

  Daniel groaned. “This is a terrible pn.”

  Ethan cpped him on the back. “That’s the spirit.”

  The three of them made their way to the sparring arena, the orange glow of the setting sun casting long shadows over the stone floor. The mountains in the distance were already dipped in dusk, a silent reminder that night was fast approaching.

  Feeling they shouldn’t waste any more time, Daniel and Christopher each picked a training weapon from the rack—Daniel a two-handed longsword, Christopher a one-handed sword and shield combo.

  Ethan stood just outside the arena, acting as both witness and referee.

  Once the two opponents were in position, he raised his hand. “Begin!”

  Christopher tapped the face of his shield with a smirk. “Come on, show me what you’ve got.”

  Daniel didn't need a second invitation. He focused his stance and charged, his longsword slicing through the air with strength and precision. A flurry of strikes followed—overhead, sweeping, diagonal—each one relentless. But Christopher remained calm, parrying or dodging each blow with practiced ease, always keeping his footing light, always measured.

  To an outsider, it might’ve looked like Daniel had the upper hand, driving the duel with sheer momentum.

  But Ethan knew better.

  He could see it in Christopher’s eyes—the subtle flicks of focus, the rexed posture, the calcuted movement. Christopher wasn’t being overwhelmed; he was observing. Testing.

  And when he was satisfied, he shifted.

  “Good attacks,” he said. “Now let’s see how you defend.”

  With one clean motion, Christopher redirected Daniel’s bde with his shield and unched into a counteroffensive. He started slowly, giving Daniel time to adjust, but soon ramped up the speed. His strikes became sharper, faster, pressing Daniel onto the defensive.

  Ethan, watching from the edge, felt a mixture of awe, envy, and frustration bubble up inside him.

  He wanted to be in that ring. He wanted to cross bdes with the strongest students, to hold his own, to fight without limits.

  But right now, his cursed body couldn’t even dream of matching that pace.

  One day, though. One day, he promised himself, gripping the railing tight. He’d stand with them—not behind, not below. With them.

  Back in the ring, Christopher’s shield smmed forward, staggering Daniel, and with a final clean sweep, Daniel’s longsword was knocked flying across the arena. In one fluid movement, Christopher stepped in, his sword pointed at Daniel’s throat.

  “Point,” he decred.

  Daniel sighed and raised his hands. “Yeah, yeah, I yield.”

  Ethan stepped forward. “So, what do you think?”

  Christopher nodded. “Fairly good. He’s got the basics down, better than most of my css. But if he wants to join the team, he’ll need to train with me every day until the tournament.”

  Daniel blinked, half-dreading the answer. “Every day?”

  “Every. Day,” Christopher repeated.

  Daniel looked as though he’d just watched his free time get executed on the spot.

  “Don’t worry!” Ethan said, cpping a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll make sure he shows up—bright and early!”

  “You traitor…” Daniel muttered.

  Christopher extended a hand. “Deal?”

  Daniel sighed and shook it. “Deal.”

  With that, the team was officially formed.