"It can't be… That's impossible…"
The words did not leave Clark's mind. While he already sat along with others, the unspeakable words remained lodged in his throat like a shard of bone. The number on the instrument still glowed.
[1000…]
It was quite high and perfect score. The crystal pillar used for measuring magical resonance emitted a steady and unwavering light. There was no fluctuation, instability, and backlash. The measurement was absolute.
Clark stared at Baston as if he were looking at something unnatural. He did not know how strong Baston truly was but he knew one thing. A poor boy should not surpass him. Clark had the best tutors money could
purchase. His family maintained contracts with veteran mages. His elemental
foundation had been built since childhood with rare supplements and guided cultivation.
Meanwhile, Baston had been living in underground dormitories and eating from leftover food trays. He had nothing and yet the crystal declared otherwise. A murmur was still heard around, spreading through the grand hall of Zeverius Academy. It was not admiration. It was disbelief. Quietly, it turned into something uglier. The nobles secretly began taking a comparison.
Several students who had just received scores in the five-hundred range suddenly felt their achievements turn hollow. A few noble heirs who had been proud of their six-hundred results looked away. Clark had
already humiliated a handful of participants just by questioning Baston's magic. Now, he found himself standing at the center of a greater humiliation. He couldn't possibly let this into his farce.
"I demand the instrument to be checked," he stood up again with his voice cut through the murmuring and the host's preach, "A score like that cannot be real."
The supervising staff frowned. He had anticipated this reaction. In truth, he had already recalibrated the device twice when the number first appeared. He had even replaced the measurement core before
allowing the result to display publicly. Still, the number did not change. It was still unbelievable yet protocol required transparency.
"Very well if you're still dissatisfied…"
Several assistants moved forward. Another instrument was brought in which was a secondary calibration array used only for disputes. Two senior experts from Zeverius Academy stepped in personally. The testing area was cleared. Baston was asked to repeat the measurement. This time, the process was slower and more deliberate.
Observers watched not only the instrument but Baston himself from his breathing, his stance, and his mana release pattern. The crystal pillar pulsed and the number rose.
[500… 501… 502… 503… 504…]
The numbers stopped. The hall fell silent once again. They were not shocked and loud but just feel unbelievable for a second time.
"We have examined the instruments," the supervising expert announced calmly, "No irregularities have been found. The result remains unchanged."
He turned toward Clark, "Do you have further objections?"
Clark's jaw tightened. He could not accuse the academy of manipulation. Not here, not in Zeverius Academy. This was not Prius Academy where political pressure from nobles could distort decisions. Zeverius Academy stood above most noble houses in authority. They trained royal instructors and
they supplied battle mages to national armies. Clark's family name meant little within these walls. He shifted his focus.
"If instruments can be deceived," he said slowly, "Then combat cannot."
He looked directly at Baston, "I demand a duel."
The tension shifted. It was not explosive but cold. The noble boy started to become restless.
"This is a meeting," one of the experts said firmly, "Not a tournament."
Clark did not look at the expert.
He stared at Baston, "Are you afraid?"
Baston met his gaze without expression.
"You can say anything you wish," Baston replied evenly, "But words will not provoke me."
A few students exchanged glances and Clark smirked.
"So, you admit it…"
"No…" Baston said softly, "You are just afraid of the fact."
The word settled like a blade placed gently on a table.
"You cannot accept what you have seen, so you search for a stage where you can control the outcome."
Clark's fist clenched, "YOU!"
"That is enough."
The supervising expert's voice carried authority, "This event follows rules. Any further escalation will result in disciplinary
action."
Clark swallowed the rest of his anger but the humiliation did not disappear. It changed form, becoming calculation. The meeting resumed but no one was truly listening. Every gaze drifted toward Baston. The boy who had entered the hall unnoticed yesterday now carried invisible weight in every conversation. Whispers began moving across academy groups like invisible threads.
"Prius Academy…"
"A poor student…"
"Full score…"
"How?"
The meeting session ended earlier than scheduled. Officially, it was due to time constraints. Unofficially, no one had the focus to continue academic exchanges. As the hall dispersed, Baston found himself
surrounded. Students approached under the banner of knowledge exchange but their eyes did not carry curiosity. They carried assessment.
"Your magical foundation is impressive," one noble girl said with a practiced smile, "You should visit my estate. My father appreciates
talented individuals."
"I would like to spar privately sometime," a merchant heir offered, "Purely educational purposes, of course."
"You must consider transferring," a teacher from Zeverius Academy suggested politely, "With proper guidance, your growth could be
extraordinary."
Baston smiled lightly. He responded without committing, without agreeing, and without promising. Inside, he observed. The shift in
attitude was fascinating. Yesterday, he had been invisible. Today, he was an investment opportunity. They did not see the fat boy named Baston. They saw potential future power.
Eventually, he excused himself and retreated to his assigned room. Not only he was troubled by the flock of nobles, but also regarding the trembling inside his bag. Once alone, he closed the door quietly. He opened the old book. The last page shimmered faintly.
"Make a memorable impression at the meeting event…"
Baston leaned back against the wall. Clark had done half the work for him. Without opposition, attention would have been minimal. The last conflict created spotlight and the potlight created performance. Still,
something unsettled him. Clark's personality did not align with retreat. The noble boy was not the type to swallow humiliation quietly which meant tomorrow would not be simple.
*****
The following day, the meeting resumed. Clark was calm, too calm which was very suspicious. He did not glare and did not provoke. He only listened and that made Baston uneasy. Midway through the session, a student from another academy raised his hand.
"Regarding the explosion incident that occurred recently, I believe Baston's rapid rise is suspicious."
The room shifted. Regarding the word of explosion, it alone was enough to stir tension.
Another student added, "It is strange. A poor student suddenly surpassing everyone after such an incident."
A third voice joined in, hesitant at first, "Prius Academy had no casualties but other academies did."
The atmosphere began to tilt. The conversation was no longer about talent. It was about coincidence and eventually, Clark finally spoke.
"I conducted a small investigation," he said smoothly, "Prius Academy suffered minimal damage. Convenient, isn't it?"
Many eyes turned and Baston remained silent. Clark soon continued.
"And during the explosion, Baston was present near the site…"
"Is that true?" someone whispered.
"Wasn't he seen there?"
"Yes… He was with Alicia…"
The name shifted attention. Alicia stood slowly to explain about the matter.
"It was coincidence," she said firmly, "I discovered irregular mana flow and attempted to report it. The explosion occurred before I could."
Her posture was straight and her tone was controlled. Clark nodded lightly.
"Yes… And Baston happened to be there as well."
The implication hung unspoken. Another student leaned forward.
"Are you suggesting he was involved?"
Clark did not smile. He did not need to.
"I am suggesting," he said carefully, "That we should not ignore anomalies."
The room felt smaller. Suspicion spreads faster than admiration especially among nobles who raised to guard their lineage.
"If he orchestrated something…" someone muttered.
"What if he was a spy?"
"I heard the dark wizard was involved…"
The word dark wizard caused a subtle tremor. The explosion incident was still under investigation. Official statements had been limited and such limited information created fertile ground for imagination.
Baston watched the shift. Clark was not attacking directly. He was planting seeds. His plan was brilliant. If Baston defended aggressively, he would appear desperate. If he remained silent, suspicion would grow. Clark took one more step.
"I propose temporary detention," he said calmly, "For everyone's safety."
The suggestion was outrageous yet not entirely unreasonable under noble paranoia. The teachers exchanged glances. They could not officially detain a student from another academy without evidence but they also could not dismiss concerns recklessly.
Alicia's hand tightened at her side. She knew the truth. Baston had blocked the explosion. If she revealed that, questions would only
deepen. Why could he block it?How? With what authority? Her silence was protection but silence also fed suspicion. All eyes turned toward Baston. He then finally spoke.
"You investigated me?"
Clark nodded, "Of course…"
"Then allow me to ask," Baston said calmly, "Who placed the magic circle responsible for the explosion?"
Clark hesitated, "That information is incomplete."
"Is it?"
Baston tilted his head slightly, "There has already been an official statement identifying a suspect tied to dark wizard's movements."
A few students blinked. Some clearly had not followed the full report. Clark's jaw stiffened.
"My informants…"
"Are either incompetent," Baston said softly, "Or selective…"
A ripple of tension passed through the room. Just by the words, it seemed there was another version of the story. The participants who had expected the meeting to turn dull suddenly felt their attention sharpened. What had begun as an academic exchange was slowly transforming into something else, an inquiry without authority or a trial without a judge.
The supervising teachers exchanged brief glances. They had not intended for the explosion incident to resurface in a public forum. The matter was still under controlled investigation. The official notice released
to the academies had been intentionally vague. It confirmed the involvement of an external dark wizard element but withheld operational details.
Yet now, pieces were being dragged into the open by students. It were dangerous pieces. Clark's eyes narrowed slightly. He had
expected Baston to deny, perhaps to panic, and perhaps to retreat into defensive logic. Instead, Baston redirected the conversation toward verified information and facts. That was troublesome.
"You speak confidently," Clark said, his tone measured, "Almost as if you had access to internal reports."
The implication was subtle but deliberate. A murmur stirred again. How would a poor student obtain detailed updates about a dark wizard investigation? Even nobles received only summarized briefings through family
channels. Baston did not respond immediately. He allowed the question to
breathe.
Then he answered, "Public information is not internal information. The arrest notice was circulated yesterday evening to all
participating academies. Perhaps, your informants are slower than you believe."
A faint wave of suppressed laughter rippled from one side of the hall before quickly dying down. Clark's expression hardened. The balance was shifting again but something else was shifting too. It was doubt. Not only
toward Baston but toward Clark.
Because if Clark truly investigated thoroughly, how did he miss something officially released? The teachers began paying closer attention. This was no longer merely a quarrel between nobles and commoners. It was becoming a contest of credibility. Clark inhaled slowly, recalibrating.
"Even if an external dark wizard was responsible," he said, "That does not eliminate the possibility of internal assistance."
There it was, a clever pivot. He was no longer accusing Baston of planting the magic circle. He was suggesting collaboration. He placed
him as a spy or a conduit. Someone positioned to minimize damage while
preserving secrecy. The idea was elegant. It allowed Clark to remain cautious rather than aggressive and cautious nobles were harder to refute. Several students nodded slowly.
"Yes… That could explain the low casualties…"
"If he reduced damage intentionally…"
"To maintain cover…"
Alicia felt the shift and frowned faintly. This was no longer reckless jealousy. This was calculated narrative construction. Someone
had advised Clark or Clark himself had thought far more carefully than usual.
Baston sensed it as well. The current tone did not match Clark's temperament from yesterday. This was structured and more layered which meant the accusation itself might be part of something larger.
"You speak of assistance," Baston said evenly, "Then let us examine the proximity."
His gaze moved across the room deliberately, "Many students were present within that corridor before the explosion. Why isolate only me?"
No one answered immediately because that question was uncomfortable.
Clark replied, "Because your growth correlates with the timing."
"Correlation…" Baston repeated calmly, "Is not causation."
A teacher subtly straightened at that phrasing. The conversation was drifting into logical territory rather than emotional
accusation. And logic, once introduced, was difficult to silence.
Baston continued, "If rapid improvement equals suspicion, then perhaps we should examine everyone whose elemental stability spiked after the incident."
That was not a threat. It was an expansion of scope and scope frightened people. Several noble heirs stiffened instinctively. They did
not want scrutiny. Clark realized the danger of escalation. He needed the narrative to be contained and focused. But before he could respond, one of the senior experts finally intervened.
"This discussion…" the expert said slowly, "Is approaching investigative territory. We will not conduct a public tribunal based on
conjecture."
The authority in his voice did not fully erase suspicion but it halted momentum. Still, something lingered in the air. It was a subtle
fracture. Students were no longer divided simply into those who admired Baston and those who doubted him. They were divided into those who felt uneasy. Because if Clark's accusation held even a fragment of truth then the meeting itself might not be safe. And if Baston's logic held correctly, then someone had attempted to manipulate the narrative. Both possibilities were unsettling.
Baston remained standing, calm, and unrushed. But internally, a thin thread of caution tightened. Clark's attack was too
organized. The timing was too convenient. The explosion, the score, and the accusation. It felt less like spontaneous jealousy and more like a test. Not of strength but of reaction.