“Took you long enough.”

“...Ms. Zistara? Why are you here?”

“I'm keeping my promise to Rose.”

“Right...”

Jenyx casually took a seat beside her. 

"...I'm sorry. About earlier..." While the two sat in silence, Ria spoke. Jenyx turned to her as she continued.

"I should not have taken out my anger on you like that. You're just as much a victim as she is. No, you're actually worse off."

Jenyx looked at her in silence for a while. Ria figured she was right. He probably wasn't expecting an apology, as evidenced by his mild surprise in the form of his slightly open mouth. Still, she knew she had to. As a noble, her earlier actions were nothing short of disgraceful, especially when one considers the fact that she was a part of the family known to be the guardians of their kingdom. She had shamed her family, the sworn protector of their kingdom and its citizens through her actions.

"...Thank you, but... I deserved it."

Ria looked at him, her surprise was apparent. Jenyx smiled as he noticed.

"All this time, I've only been a burden to Rose. You hold her dearly in your heart like I do, perhaps more. That's why... I can understand your anger."

"Still, that doesn't mean what I did was right." Ria replied.

"Perhaps so, but I bear you no ill-will all the same. Right now, I'm just thankful."

"Thankful?"

"Yes. For your help."

("What is he talking about?") Ria couldn't understand him. Most people wouldn't normally be thankful to the people who sought to harm them. Was he simply being careful with his words after learning her identity? 

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I was just…”

Ria noticed herself staring at him for no apparent reason. There was an inexplicable feeling that gnawed at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t exactly determine what it was. Earlier, when she had him by the throat, the atmosphere around him suddenly changed. He even seemed to be moving, despite Ria using her ability on him. But that was impossible. Her eyes must have been playing tricks on her. Still, there was no denying that she felt uneasy around him. He was like a completely different person. It was neither irritation, nor resentment. Whatever it was, made her wary of him, despite the fact that he didn’t possess any powers or abilities whatsoever. Such an odd sensation was a first for Ria.

“...Did something happen to you?”

Jenyx’s eyes slowly shifted towards her. A wave of anxiety awashed her heart as she met his gaze, but she stood her ground. Her pride as an outstanding mage would never allow her to shrink in the presence of an inferior.

“I was a little… lost. But I found the way.”

“What…?”

“And now for the next match, we have Besmit Sweith from Class B and Trey Lofit from Class D! Please give them a round of applause!!”

As the two were talking, the next match-up was suddenly announced, setting the crowd into a frenzy.

“Oh, the next match is underway. Please, don’t mind me and enjoy the competition.”

His voice sounded as gentle as could be, and his words were nothing short of kind. If someone else were seated beside him and he uttered the same words, they would no doubt feel more relaxed knowing they were with a rather amiable person. Yet, to Ria, she could only feel the hidden coldness that lay beneath his every word.

**

“Oi, oi, oi. Are they seriously matching me against this pissant?”

Besmit entered the stage, frowning upon laying eyes on his supposed opponent. The participants of the event were allowed to wear whatever they found comfortable or fitting. Because of this, most of the students, whether noble or commoners, use the event to their advantage as it was not simply for entertainment. It was also a chance for students to showcase their talent to the spectators; a chance to appeal to the influential and wealthy. Usually, participants wear clothing which allows them freedom of movement and a mark representing their families somewhere to make it easier for people to remember them. Trey wore a white long-sleeved shirt under a blue cloak, engraved with a gold vistergan crest at the back; the typical attire provided to the participants out of courtesy. To Besmit, it was blatantly clear that he was just a nobody who happened to get lucky. An oblivious buffoon who needs to be taught a lesson and put in his place. As for Besmit, he wore a black, sleeveless shirt with an exposed midriff. The shirt fitted his somewhat toned body and flame-like designs adorned the edges near his right arm. His family’s crest, a silver smoke pipe which symbolized their most prized craft, was tattooed on his right forearm.

“Listen, I know it’s just an exhibition match, but I’m not known for my self-control, so you better quit while you’re still in one piece, alright?”

Besmit stopped just short of Trey, looking down on him as his towering figure eclipsed Trey’s body. In response, Trey met his gaze, acting indifferently despite the obvious attempts at intimidation by his opponent. 

“That’s enough! You two! Back away from one another, now!”

The referee butted in between the two, lightly pushing them away from one another. Besmit clicked his tongue at Trey as he went further back. 

“Huuuu… Haaaaah…”

After being separated, Trey breathed in and then out. After repeating the process a few times, he opened his eyes. The air felt fresh and a slight breeze carrying the scent of the recently cut grass surrounding the stage found its way to him. He then cast his gaze upon the stands. Trey’s eyes lit up as he spotted Jenyx watching from above. He grinned at him and waved. Though Jenyx noticed, he merely tilted his head to the left, urging Trey to focus on his fight. 

“Pretty bold of you to look away from me. I guess you really are looking for a beating, huh?”

Trey's eyes shifted back, only to see his opponent scowl further in displeasure. Perhaps being ignored made him spiteful. But then again, he seemed to already be annoyed from the start. Regardless, it mattered very little to Trey. 

"Take your positions!"

Trey adjusted his stance at the same time as the referee yelled. Eyeing the wooden sword he held near his hip, Trey let out a sigh. Before the match, the lady that called for him informed him that he couldn't use personal items or weapons in the match as it might have unexpected consequences. Though he tried to protest, the lady refused to give in and took his weapon for safekeeping. Afterwards, she gave him a worn-out wooden sword from the storage room before leaving.

("How annoying…")

Recalling that someone else's hands were clasping his treasured sword perturbed him. However, he could not let that distract him. Trey started breathing in the same manner as earlier, assuming a stance where both hands carried the sword beside his head with the blade pointed at his foe. All that was left was the signal.

"Begin!"

!!

A blur. That was the best way to describe how his opponent had momentarily disappeared before his eyes.  A blunt, terrible pain sicced Besmit’s leg as his line of sight suddenly bent. An unknown force had broken his balance, bringing his large stature down to the pavement. Before he could even take a breath to process what just happened, the dull edge of a wooden sword appeared, inches away from his face. Beyond the sword, he could feel a cold, watchful gaze upon him as the shadows coated his collapsed being. For a brief moment, the entire stadium was held breathless, unable to believe the sequence of events despite having witnessed it firsthand.

“Well, aren’t ya going to announce it?”

Besmit, who was still in shock, pondered helplessly upon what his words meant. However, his thought process was immediately broken as the referee, who stood a few feet away from them spoke.

“A-ah, yes.”

Albeit still somewhat confused, the referee hastily stood between the two and raised his left hand. 

“Winner, Trey Lofit!”

Seconds later, the lady announcer followed suit and made it official, so to speak, riling the crowd into a frenzy yet again. As the winner was announced, Trey drew the sword back and silently headed for the waiting room. No words, no acknowledgment for the crowd, he didn't even bother to look back. In his mind, there was nothing more important than retrieving his sword. 

**

"What incredible speed."

Ria stared fixedly at the student who destroyed his opponent in a matter of seconds. Even after the match had ended, his vigilance and seriousness remained. She often heard from the knights in her home that a true warrior sought neither fame, nor glory, but simply the proving of their might. Ria respected that. Though young, he may perhaps be one of those rare, few people who sought the path of a true warrior. 

“He’s from Class D?”

Although Besmit was indeed underestimating his opponent, he was by no means an easy person to catch off-guard. Aside from the fact that his name was quite prominent in the institution, he was once a classmate of theirs. However, due to his arrogance and attitude, he was punished by the institution which led to him being placed in Class B. Leaving that matter aside, he had the skills to back up his claims. Granted he wasn’t at the level of Ria or Rose, he did quite well for himself in Class A. Clearly demonstrating that he was worthy of being with the most talented. To see him lose to an unnamed student from a lower section was something Ria found surprising.

“I figured he was skilled, but I never expected this.” 

Jenyx, who was watching the match beside Ria, spoke his thoughts.

“You know him?”

“We’re acquainted, yes.” 

“I see. What do you mean you 'never expected this'?"

“He demonstrated his skill during the exam, but this is something else. Had he always performed as such, then I presume his name would have been more well-known in the academy.”

“That’s true...”

“Looks like he truly is aiming to become a spellknight."

Ria figured as much. As a mage, the main focus of her studies in both the academy and at home was the understanding of mana and magic. However, she wasn’t entirely clueless when it came to swordsmanship. After all, a few of her relatives were a part of the Spellknights division.  Being essentially the guardians of the kingdom, it was only natural that their family occupied various positions in the military. Whenever her relatives visited, she would watch as they trained in the open space. Oftentimes, the knights of her family were requested to be their sparring partners, to which the knights were much happy to oblige. As her interest grew, she began watching them, and in time, interacted with them as they trained. As a result, she learned about the ways of the sword, and grew closer to the knights of her family and to her relatives in the process.

“What was his name again?”

“Lofit, Trey Lofit.”

“Lofit? Isn’t that–”

“Hm? Did ya call me?”

Out of nowhere, the very topic of their discussion suddenly appeared behind them.