The cafeteria was filled with chatter, the clattering of trays, and the occasional laughter echoing between the long rows of tables. Wads and Klyden had just finished at the counter, balancing trays heavy with food. Klyden, as usual, was already running his mouth before they even found a seat.
"Man, that last lecture nearly killed me. Who even cares about the proper stance when drawing a sword? Like—does it matter if my right foot is a little off? I'm still gonna swing it, right? Tell me I'm right, Wads."
Wads glanced at him with a flat look, shifting his tray slightly to avoid bumping into another student. "You'd lose your balance and fall on your face."
Klyden gasped as if he'd been struck. "That's slander! My balance is perfect." He puffed his chest and walked with exaggerated posture, balancing his tray on one hand. "See? Graceful. Like a dancer."
Wads just shook his head and kept walking.
The cafeteria was crowded, making their pace slower. As they reached the middle aisle, someone blocked their way. Christoff Ophelic. His orange hair was unmistakable, his smug grin even more so. Behind him stood two freshies, clearly his lackeys, looking like they'd been dragged into this confrontation.
Christoff crossed his arms dramatically. "Well, well. If it isn't the silent nobody. Walking around like he belongs here." His green eyes flickered with arrogance. "Tell me, do you enjoy pretending to be a student? Or are you just here to warm the benches, commoner?"
Silence.
Klyden and Wads just looked at him. Neither reacted, neither flinched. Then—without a word—they both simply stepped aside and walked past him as if he were part of the furniture.
Christoff froze. His smugness cracked instantly. His face flushed red as laughter and chatter carried on around him, uncaring. His fists trembled at his side, teeth grinding. Ignored. By a nobody.
Wads and Klyden found their usual table, where Keiya was already seated, calmly eating a delicate pastry as if the world didn't exist. Klyden plopped down beside her like he owned the space, while Wads settled across, sliding his tray into place.
Klyden, as though nothing had happened, resumed his rant. "Oh right—next week we're getting a new set of classes, right?"
"Yes," Wads said simply, picking up his spoon. "We're going to get re-evaluated."
"Right, right, re-evaluation." Klyden chomped into a roll and spoke through his mouthful. "I'm telling you, we'd better end up in 2A. That's where all the top rankers are. Imagine if we get stuck in 2C? That class is cursed. You'd have to babysit me through every lecture."
"You barely survived last year." Wads deadpanned.
"Exactly! Which is why fate owes me this one. 2A, mark my words. Ohhh, can you imagine the cafeteria gossip? 'Oh wow, look at Klyden, second-year genius, future legend, heroic swordsman, most handsome student of—'"
A sharp slam cut him off.
A hand smacked down onto their table hard enough to rattle the trays. Keiya glanced up with visible irritation, her pastry halfway to her mouth. Wads lazily shifted his eyes toward the intruder.
Christoff.
His green eyes burned with fury, his jaw clenched tight. He pointed a finger straight at Wads.
"YOU—You're just a commoner!" His voice wasn't loud enough to silence the whole cafeteria, but enough for nearby students to pause mid-bite and glance over. Whispers started trickling between them.
Klyden blinked, spoon still stuck in his mouth. He turned to Wads and mumbled through his food, "You know this guy?"
"No." Wads went back to eating.
Keiya, unimpressed, took another slow bite of her pastry.
Christoff's lip quivered. He leaned forward, growling, "How dare you ignore me…" His hand shook, his arrogance cracking further with every passing second.
Then he slammed his finger toward Wads again. "I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!"
The cafeteria froze. Heads turned. Murmurs spread like wildfire.
"Who is that guy?"
"He's a first-year, right?"
"Wait—did he just challenge a sophomore?"
Christoff, basking in the attention, puffed out his chest. His smugness returned in full force. "Well? Do you dare accept, or will you crawl away like the coward you are?"
Wads frowned—not because of the shouting, not because of the challenge—but because he knew this would waste his time. He was about to decline… but then he remembered his blade practice. Testing it out wouldn't hurt. He tilted his head, tapping his spoon against his tray, considering.
"…Alright."
The cafeteria erupted in whispers. Christoff's grin widened, arrogance blooming like a disease across his face. He barked a laugh. "Tomorrow morning at the East Wing! Don't you dare run, commoner!"
With a dramatic swirl of his cape, he strode away, his two lackeys scrambling after him. Students immediately began whispering, the cafeteria abuzz with speculation.
Keiya exhaled heavily, setting her pastry down. "…Another idiot with an ego problem."
Klyden finally pulled the spoon out of his mouth and snorted with laughter. "Pfft—commoner? Oh man, Wads, you've got a fan club now. I bet he practiced that line in the mirror like, ten times."
"Probably," Wads muttered, sipping from his drink.
Keiya shook her head and went back to eating. "If he dies, it's his fault."
Klyden leaned back dramatically, still chuckling. "Tomorrow's gonna be so good. Front row seats, Keiya. Don't forget to bring snacks."
Wads sighed, already regretting agreeing.
...
The word spread like wildfire. By nightfall, nearly every corner of the academy had already heard whispers of the duel.
Christoff Ophelic vs. A mysterious sophomore.
At first, most thought it was a joke, but when confirmations kept circling, anticipation grew.
On the western yard bench, Reiyell tilted her head up from her book. A passing group of students murmured Christoff's name alongside "sophomore." Her brow twitched. She smirked faintly, unable to hold back a quiet chuckle.
That's Wads, no doubt about it.
Shaking her head, she returned to reading, though the corner of her lips refused to relax.
At another side of the yard, Euphelia Lestriges sat elegantly on a bench, posture poised, her braid resting neatly against her shoulder. Being from one of the most notable families of the West—ranked third in standing—her very presence always drew a certain hush of respect.
Her friend Julia leaned close, cleaning her nails with a file while speaking offhandedly.
"Euphie, you heard? Christoff challenged a sophomore at the cafeteria earlier."
Euphelia's head turned fully at that. "Who?" she asked, voice calm, but her stomach already sinking with a bad premonition.
"I didn't catch the name. But appearance?" Julia hummed in thought. "Black hair, rectangular glasses. Oh—and a small stud on his left ear."
Euphelia's lips parted slightly, her brows furrowing as a memory stabbed into her mind. The brief encounter from the other day. Her heart sank.
That dumb Christoff.
"Do you know his name?" she pressed.
Julia shrugged. "No. But they said he's quiet. Are you going to watch the duel tomorrow?"
Before Euphelia could answer, a voice—bright, energetic—burst behind them.
"Sorry to interrupt! But who's fighting who tomorrow?"
Both girls turned. Euphelia blinked at the sight: a girl with heterochromia eyes—one a vivid red, the other a striking green—and silver-pale hair tied into a braid. She was radiant, alive with a kind of effortless charm. Euphelia caught herself staring. She's… beautiful.
"Oh, Liora!" Julia greeted warmly. "Our friend Christoff Ophelic is fighting with a sophomore tomorrow. Do you perhaps know someone with dark hair, rectangular glasses, and a stud earring?"
Liora's eyes widened before she chuckled. "Wads?"
Julia and Euphelia blinked in unison. "Wads?"
"Ah—Wyxro," Liora corrected smoothly. "Yes, that must be who you're talking about."
"I see," Julia said, intrigued.
Liora tilted her head. "When will this duel take place?"
"At the East Wing yard," Julia supplied.
A sly smile touched Liora's lips. "Perfect. Thanks." With a playful wave, she spun on her heel and left, her braid swaying as she went.
Euphelia exhaled, her chest tight. For reasons she didn't fully understand, discomfort crawled through her veins. Her temples throbbed faintly as she pressed her fingers there.
Before she could sort out the unease, another familiar face appeared—Kimi, one of their more straightforward friends.
"Ah, Kimi!" Julia perked up. "Do you know someone named Wyxro? He's a sophomore."
Kimi crouched down in front of them, chin resting on her hand, expression curious. "You mean Wyxro Waxzi? Yeah, why?"
"Christoff will be fighting him," Julia said casually.
Kimi blinked, then snorted. "That arrogant idiot?" She laughed under her breath, shaking her head.
Euphelia leaned forward. "Is Wyxro strong?"
Kimi glanced at her, then nodded without hesitation. "Yeah. He's currently in the top ten rankings of the sophomore batch." She smirked. "But I think Christoff can handle him. He is blessed with a deity power, after all."
Euphelia stiffened at that. Top ten? That meant Wyxro wasn't just some quiet nobody—he was formidable. And yet… Christoff's power was nothing to underestimate either.
Kimi laughed again. "Relax, Euphie. Wyxro's only a Yukereo. Christoff should win this."
But Euphelia didn't relax. If anything, her unease only grew. She wasn't sure who she should be more worried about—her arrogant friend who didn't know what hornet's nest he'd kicked, or the mysterious sophomore with those unreadable eyes.
And yet, deep down, she realized her worry leaned more toward Wyxro.
Because she knew exactly how devastating Christoff's power could be.