--- 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

"Sorry, but I’m not using mana."

The words were still settling in the air when Kenshin moved.

BOOM!

Kai’s body folded around the impact—not a punch, not a kick, just force, delivered to his chest with the casual precision of someone swatting a fly. He flew backward, his arms pinwheeling, his mouth open in a silent gasp. The wall of the training ground met him with a crack that echoed across the courtyard.

He hit. Dropped. Lay still.

Blood covered his face—not a wound from the impact, but the split eyebrow from earlier, reopened and leaking. His fingers twitched once, twice. The rest of him did not move.

"You might need a healer for him." Kenshin pointed at Kai’s prone form, his voice conversational, almost apologetic. "He’s definitely not getting up from that."

"You don’t say." Jude’s voice was flat. His eyes didn’t leave Kenshin.

"I held back, though." Kenshin shrugged—a small, careless roll of his shoulders.

"Should I say thanks?" Jude’s jaw tightened. "We knew what we were getting into when we began the fight."

"Yeah, you’re right." Kenshin’s expression softened, just slightly. "I just wouldn’t want you blinded by emotions. It would ruin the fight. It’s nice this way."

"Hmm."

"So." Kenshin’s tone shifted, brightening. "What was the spell you used?"

"Freeze." Jude’s arms remained crossed. "A deviant spell."

"Do you know what deviant spells are?"

"No."

Kenshin shook his head, slow and deliberate.

Jude pinched the bridge of his nose.

What have you been teaching them, Zeke?

"You’ll have to learn that from your professor," Jude said, his voice clipped. "Or read a book."

"A book?" Kenshin winced as though Jude had suggested something physically painful.

"It’s not that bad."

"That’s what boring people say."

"Well." Jude exhaled through his nose.

"Other than the fact that it’s a deviant spell—how did you do it? I don’t think you did it while I was dodging." Kenshin paused. "And you had a grin. You said ’finally.’ So it was part of a major plan, right?"

"Mm." Jude nodded. "When you chose to smash my face in, I tapped you. That’s when I placed a debuff sigil on you. It has an activation delay of about ten seconds."

He paused, letting the information settle.

"It’s a D-tier spell. It was useful because I have a larger mana pool than you."

"Oh." Kenshin’s brow furrowed. "How did he know you’d done that? How did you know he would give you the ten seconds the sigil needed? And—"

Jude cut him off. "It was teamwork." His voice was quiet, but it carried. "It’s simply what relying on your teammates can achieve. We have a synergy that doesn’t need words." He looked at Kenshin, his gaze steady. "If this was a three-man fight, you wouldn’t have this level of relaxation."

"Hmm. Interesting." Kenshin tilted his head. "I knew about teamwork. I have a kind of teamwork with Dean. But it’s not as... teamworky as yours."

"Three weaklings defeating a strong opponent," Kenshin said, almost to himself.

"Then he was never strong in the first place."

"Even if you’d joined hands with him, I would have maintained the same demeanor." Kenshin’s smile returned, sharp and certain. "You’re simply not strong enough. Not just your strength level—" He tapped his chest. "I’m just built different."

"You must have a lot of friends." Jude rolled his eyes.

"I actually do." Kenshin’s smile widened. "I’m friends with all my classmates."

He glanced toward the other end of the training ground, where Dean was picking himself up from the stone.

"Oh. Dean lost." His attention drifted back to Jude. "Seems this fight is of no use to me."

"He lost?" Jude turned, scanning the courtyard. "Aaron won?"

Across the training ground, Aaron was extending his hand to Dean, pulling him to his feet. Dean’s face was bloodied, his clothes scorched, but he was laughing—short, sharp, surprised out of him.

"So mature." Jude’s mouth curved. "I’ve got to go hype him up."

He began to walk toward Aaron.

"Your other friend needs healing," Kenshin called after him.

"Oh, yeah." Jude stopped. Scratched his chin. "I forgot."

He turned, walked back to where Kai lay motionless, and bent to pick him up. Kai groaned—low, pained, but alive. Jude slung one of Kai’s arms over his shoulder and began the slow walk toward the others.

---

"And the fight’s over." Aelric clapped once, the sound sharp in the quiet.

"How would you all evaluate it?" Zephyr turned to face the group.

"Kenshin’s fight didn’t have a proper resolution." Daemion’s face was a stoic mask, his eyes fixed on the field.

"I believe otherwise." Rhaegar’s voice was calm, measured.

Daemion turned to look at him.

"His opponents had him cornered. If not for his ability, he would have lost." Rhaegar paused. "And take note—this was a spar. Lethality was minimized. And this was an unwinnable fight for the duo."

"Mm." The group nodded, a chorus of reluctant agreement.

"I think he knows that." Virelle snickered. "He just doesn’t want to lose his bet."

"Well." Nyssara stepped forward, her tone brooking no argument. "We haven’t decided on a universal evaluation for the fight."

"It’s an SSS-ranked evaluation from me." Sam raised his hand, his voice carrying across the group. A ripple of snickers followed.

"Same." Virelle raised her hands. Seraphin followed. One by one, the group agreed.

"It’s obviously an SSS-ranked evaluation for Dean’s opponent."

"If there’s a rank above that, it’s that. He beat Dean."

"An unexpected result."

"What do you think, Sam?" Zephyr turned to him.

Sam considered for a moment. "It was a mixed bag of a fight, to me. Experience versus potential, one could say."

He let the thought settle.

"On individual strength, my brother is definitely stronger than him. But when you take abilities into account—" He gestured toward where Aaron stood. "—Dean’s opponent was the better fighter. Dean’s innate ability doesn’t bode well against weaker opponents. It hasn’t mattered until now. It was a spar. Lethality was reduced. And he was fixated on the wrong prize."

He paused, his gaze distant.

"But even if they’d fought at full lethality, Dean’s opponent would still win. The plethora of abilities his shadows—and by extension, he—has outstrips Dean’s." A small shrug. "It’s quantity and quality on his side, against Dean, who only has brute force to offer."

"It seems like you knew Dean would lose." Rhaegar smiled, his eyes fixed on Sam.

"I always expect my brother to lose." Sam smiled back, thin and private. "It’s the only way I can get back at him."

He turned and walked toward Dean, leaving the group behind.

Across the training ground, Dean and Kenshin were walking toward the others. Aaron and Jude flanked Kai, his arms draped over their shoulders, his feet dragging. Kai groaned again—louder this time, more coherent.

"I’m fine," he mumbled. "Just... give me a minute."

"You’ve had a minute," Jude said flatly.

"Give me another one."

---

’So, Aaron won.’

{ That’s what my recap explicitly mentioned. }

’No need for the sarcasm. I just didn’t expect him to win.’

A pause.

’Well, it’s kind of logical when you look at it from a standpoint.’

’He has the advantage of abilities and numbers.’

Another pause.

’He has all the advantages—other than actual rank.’

"Zeke Vaughn."

Zeke turned his head.

Nox and Elio both stared at him.

"Oh." Zeke blinked. "I’m still in a meeting."

Nox pinched the bridge of his nose—a gesture so familiar it might have been practiced.

"Zeke Vaughn." The headmaster’s voice was quiet. That made it worse. "Your students. Students handpicked by me. To be taught by you. A professor handpicked by me. Have caused disturbances in my academy that have not happened in all my years as headmaster. As dean of this academy."

He let the silence stretch.

"You, their professor, have shown unprofessional behavior that has not happened in this academy."

Another pause. Nox’s eyes were hard.

"Do you presume this academy to be a playground?"

He didn’t wait for an answer.

"Your way of teaching can be accepted—by your rationale. Your students’ behavior cannot be accepted. Your attitude toward their chaos cannot be accepted."

"Yes, learning things can be beneficial to them. But what have you taught other than ideologies? Kenshin—and others—do not know what deviant magic is. They did not even know the term ’deviant magic’ existed until a few days ago."

His voice rose, just slightly.

"After beating up students of this academy—well, one of them lost—Your relations—"

He stopped. Collected himself.

"It is as though you have no impact, yet all the impact needed to cause chaos."

He raised a hand.

"Your punishment. Your chore. Is to quell your class’s exuberance and need for trouble. However you choose to do that is up to you."

His hand lowered.

"But from this moment on, if it is not an official duel—agreed upon by the dean, vice dean, and heads of each affected field—any duel will have its own repercussions."

He held Zeke’s gaze.

"And this is final."

He raised his hand again.

"You’re dismissed."

The vice dean stood, opening his mouth to dismiss the professors. Nox was already gone—the space where he’d stood empty, the air settling slowly.

’Well. Someone’s pissed.’

"Professor Zeke."

Zeke turned. Elio was standing by the door, watching him.

"Yo." Zeke raised a hand in a lazy wave.

"Walk with me." Elio stepped through the door, not waiting to see if Zeke followed.

"Tsk."

Zeke pushed himself out of his chair.

’It’s been a while since I’ve flown, anyway.’

He walked to meet Elio. As he reached him, his feet left the ground. [ Free Flier ] activated—his body lifting, settling, floating forward to match Elio’s pace.

Elio turned his head. Looked at Zeke’s floating form. Then back at the hallway ahead.

"Are you always this petty?"

"It happens when I don’t complete my REM cycle."

"You had a month to sleep. A day wouldn’t harm you."

"It actually would. It’s happening right now."

Elio exhaled—long, slow, a sound that might have been a sigh or might have been a prayer.

"You’re the guardian of the trio, correct?"

"The trio?" Zeke’s brow furrowed.

"I know of your relationship. The dean basically confirmed it today."

"Oh." Zeke’s expression cleared. "You mean my trio."

"What do you want with them?"

"Relax." Elio’s voice was calm, unhurried. "Unlike you, I’m an actual teacher. Aaron has impressed me. I want to take him as a disciple."

"Because of a fight?"

"Do you consider the first loss a Twin Star of Destruction incurred an ordinary fight?" Elio glanced sideways. "And—I don’t care for the squabble of children. I have been monitoring your trio since the entrance exams. The fight was the icing on the cake."

"Where’s the cake?"

"Metaphors." Elio’s jaw tightened. "Do you have to be unserious on every occasion?"

"Ahem." Zeke straightened. "I acted on my intrusive thoughts. Continue."

"I’m not planning on taking him as a student now." Elio’s voice steadied. "But at the end of the year, if he reaches the threshold I set for him, I will take him as a student."

He stopped walking. Turned to face Zeke.

"I have come to inform you of this because I respect your position as their nominal guardian." A pause. "The other members of the trio have caught the interest of others. They asked me to inform you."

"Who?"

Elio pointed.

Zeke turned.

Camille and Beckett stood at the far end of the hallway, waving. Camille’s wave was small, almost shy. Beckett’s was broad, theatrical, accompanied by a grin that seemed to take up half his face.

"Camille is interested in Jude." Elio’s voice was matter-of-fact. "He is one of the most talented magic students in the academy—outside your class. His work ethic and connections make him a worthy candidate."

He paused.

"Beckett simply wants to befriend you. He finds Kai’s ability interesting to teach."

"So." Zeke’s grin spread across his face. He stroked his chin, slow and deliberate. "My boys are nepo babies."

"Can you please translate your strange language?"

"It means they are recipients of nepotism."

"You have a strange catalog of words." Elio’s eyes narrowed. "Your world must be technologically advanced."

"Anyway." Elio wiggled his fingers. A cigar appeared from the ring on his finger—dark, expensive, the kind of cigar that had never been sold, only given. He placed it in his mouth. Breathed. The end of the cigar glowed, then burned.

He took it out. Blew smoke.

"Improve your work ethic. Quell your students. And we’ll have a jolly good time as colleagues."

He walked off.

"Did you have to blow your cigar in my face?" Zeke grimaced, waving the smoke away.

---

"Seeing as you are all so jolly," Zeke said, his voice light, almost teasing, "you must have had a good time disturbing the school this past month."

He leaned against his desk.

"Children, you have—"

He clapped his hands once. The sound was sharp, sudden, a punctuation mark in the middle of a sentence.

"—impressed me."

His grin spread wide.

"Now let’s talk about what you did wrong."