Theo looked at Faith, a lazy, provocative smirk playing on his lips. "I'm in," he said, shifting his weight. "But tell me can you even last a minute against me without your ice powers to hide behind?"
Faith's grip tightened on her spear. She leveled the tip at Theo's throat, her eyes flashing with cold fire. "Worry about your own skin, Grant."
Theo raised his longsword, settling into a fluid, relaxed stance. Without another word, the air between them exploded into action.
Across the arena, Evy turned back to Aren, her expression becoming uncharacteristically serious. "Alright, Aren. Give me your best shot. Punch me."
Aren blinked, taken aback. He looked at her small frame she was still smiling, seemingly completely unguarded. "Are you serious? I don't want to hurt you."
"Oh, stop overthinking and just do it!" Evy huffed, her impatience showing.
Aren hesitated, then took a clumsy step forward and threw a tentative punch toward her shoulder. Evy didn't even flinch. With a grace that bordered on supernatural, she slipped to the side, letting his fist whistle through empty air. Before he could recover, she swept her leg in a low, lightning-fast arc.
Aren's feet went out from under him, and he hit the floor with a heavy thud. He looked up, his face burning with frustration, only to find Evy looming over him, giggling.
"Honestly, Aren, you don't even know how to throw a basic punch," she teased.
Aren pushed himself up, dusting off his uniform. "Yeah, yeah, hilarious. Are you actually going to help me, or should I go find Theo?"
Evy paused, her playful eyes suddenly turning sharp and analytical. "Fine. Let's get serious. I'll teach you the mechanics of a true strike."
Aren frowned. "Mechanics? It's just a punch. How complicated can it be?"
Before Evy could answer, the heavy tread of Mr. Stephen sounded behind them. "A simple punch is the most difficult thing in the world to master," the instructor said, his shadow looming over them. "It is not merely an extension of the arm.
A true strike begins at the soles of your feet and travels through the coil of your hips. Without a perfect stance, your power has no foundation."
Aren listened intently. He had realized by now that every word out of the 'Hell's Butcher's' mouth was worth its weight in gold.
"Let me show you," Evy said. She dropped into a low, coiled stance and drove her fist forward in a blur of perfect efficiency. Aren watched the movement, trying to mimic the way she rotated her torso and shifted her weight.
I have to be careful, Aren thought, his brow furrowed in concentration. If I let even a fraction of Varkas's strength slip through, I'll destroy the equipment... or worse. He began practicing, focusing entirely on suppressing his internal power while perfecting the external form.
On the other side of the hall, a literal storm was brewing. Theo and Faith were no longer just sparring; they were a blur of clashing steel and wood. The other students had stopped their own drills just to watch the spectacle.
Faith swung her spear in a wide, punishing arc, but Theo caught the blow on the flat of his blade, his feet rooted to the floor.
"Struggling already?" Faith taunted, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
Theo laughed, his eyes bright with adrenaline. "I actually find it much easier when you aren't trying to turn the floor into an ice rink."
Faith snarled and pulled back, delivering a stinging kick to Theo's ribs. The impact was loud enough to echo, but Theo didn't even wince. It was as if his body had simply absorbed the kinetic energy, neutralizing the strike entirely.
"Physical attacks don't work well on me, Faith," Theo said with a sarcastic wink. He lunged forward, swinging his sword with a speed that forced Faith to scramble backward, narrowly avoiding the dull practice edge.
"If you continue like this," Mr. Stephen's voice cut through the air like a blade, "one of you will survive a war, while the other will win battles. But neither of you will be a master."
Theo and Faith froze, glaring at one another with enough vitriol to ignite the air. They lowered their weapons as Mr. Stephen moved past them, correcting the forms of other students with a terrifyingly keen eye.
In the corner, Aren continued his drills. Evy had summoned a clone of herself to act as a target while she stood back, scribbling furiously in her pocket notepad.
What on earth is she writing so seriously? Aren wondered, glancing at her every few minutes. He eventually pushed the curiosity aside and focused on the clone. While the clone struck with full force, Aren did the opposite he fought a silent war with himself, trying to keep his strength as dampened as possible.
Finally, the bell rang.
"Return your weapons to the racks," Stephen commanded.
Theo, drenched in sweat, looked at Faith. "You're lucky the clock ran out."
"Don't worry," Faith replied, her voice a low hiss. "Tomorrow, I won't give you the chance to speak at all."
Evy dismissed her clone and turned to Aren with a wink. "Keep practicing that 'control,' Aren. You're getting better." Without another word, she slipped away into the crowd.
Meanwhile In the Student President's office, Manu was hunched over a tablet, reviewing encrypted data. A sharp knock at the door broke his concentration.
"Come in, Archer."
Archer stepped into the room, looking like a man walking toward the gallows. He walked up to the mahogany desk and placed five small, sterile test tubes in front of Manu.
"President... I have the samples you requested," Archer said, his voice trembling.
Manu picked up the tubes, held them to the light, and frowned. "There are only five here, Archer. The list clearly had six names."
Archer lowered his head, his hands shaking at his sides. "I... I had to purchase specialized extraction tools so no one would suspect me. They cost a fortune in units, and I ran out of currency before I could get the last two."
(Since the Great War, the world had moved to 'Units' a singular digital currency.)
Manu was silent for a moment, then he began to laugh. It was a soft, melodious sound that chilled Archer to the bone. Suddenly, with a flick of Manu's finger, Archer's head was slammed violently into the desk by an invisible weight.
"The state of your finances is not my concern, Archer," Manu whispered, his voice dripping with sudden, jagged malice. "I want the remaining samples by tomorrow evening. Do not test my patience again."
The invisible pressure vanished. Archer gasped for air, his forehead bruised from the impact. "I... I understand. I'll have them by tomorrow," he stammered, backed out of the room without looking up.
Manu watched him go, then turned his attention back to the blood samples. His eyes glinted with a dark, private ambition.
Night fell over the Academy. Most students were safely tucked away in their dorms, and the silver corridors were patrolled by humming inspection bots.
A shadow moved through the darkness, navigating the security patterns with practiced ease. This person moved like a ghost, slipping through blind spots and sensor gaps as if they had memorized the entire security grid.
The figure reached a secluded, overgrown corner of the campus. Reaching into a pocket, she pulled out a small, square device and placed it on the ground. When she pressed a button, a faint red light began to pulse.
"I've done as you asked," the shadow whispered, the light catching the sharp features of her face. It was Evy. "Aren Vox is no ordinary student. He is hiding something far greater than we anticipated."