The knight’s golden armor gleamed like sunlight, even in the shadowed mouth of the cave. His breath fogged the air as he raised his gleaming blade, eyes locked on the monstrous silhouette coiled deep within the dark.

The dragon opened one glowing crimson eye.

The knight didn’t flinch.

With a roar that cracked stone, the beast lunged. Flame and claws and fury. The knight ducked under its jaws, slashing across its flank in a blur of motion. Sparks and blood hit the cave walls. The dragon howled.

“I will not yield!” the knight bellowed, driving his sword into the dragon’s chest with a final, brutal thrust.

The beast collapsed, twitching. Smoke curled from its nostrils.

Silence.

The knight stood over the corpse, panting, victorious.

But then… a chill swept through the cave. The shadows deepened. The flames from the dragon’s dying breath flickered and died.

A voice, deep and cold, echoed off the stone:

“You may defeat beasts, men, and monsters. But you cannot defeat me.”

From the darkness, cloaked in black and wreathed in silent mist, stepped the Grimm Reaper. A skull beneath a hood. A scythe of bone and shadow.

The knight raised his sword again, trembling.

He never stood a chance.

A single swing. A shatter of light.

GAME OVER.

Miles Traverse sighed.

His thumb tapped the cracked screen of his phone as his armored avatar crumpled into pixels. A “Retry?” prompt blinked cheerfully up at him while math equations blurred in the background of reality.

He was slouched in the back row of class, one leg bouncing, purple eyes glazed over behind yellow-tinted glasses. Red hair stuck out in flicks that refused to be tamed.

“Miles,” hissed his friend Toby, poking him with a pencil. “Dude. Dude. She’s coming.”

Miles barely looked up. “It’s fine. I’ve got like—”

“Mr. Traverse.”

He flinched.

His teacher stood over him, arms folded, her expression a mix of exhaustion and righteous fury.

“Is there a dragon on your desk?”

Miles tried to swipe his screen off, but she was already snatching the phone from his hands.

“I’ll hold onto this until after class,” she said sharply. “Maybe you can survive twenty minutes without fighting mythical beasts.”

The class snickered.

Miles sighed again, deeper this time, and leaned back in his seat.

As soon as she turned her back, he reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out… another phone.

Toby facepalmed. “You brought a backup?”

“You don’t climb into a dungeon without a spare sword,” Miles whispered, grinning.

“Or a spare brain, apparently.”

They both snorted.

At the front, Miss Keyes continued lecturing, writing equations on the board with the determined energy of someone who wanted to make math interesting.

“Mathematics,” she said, “isn’t just numbers. It’s the framework of the universe. A tool for solving any problem—if you understand how to use it.”

Miles leaned back again, balancing his chair on two legs.

“She always makes it sound like math can cure heartbreak or slay dragons,” he muttered.

“Maybe it can,” Toby whispered. “Quadratic functions are pretty scary.”

After class, as the others filed out, Miss Keyes stopped Miles at the door.

“I know you’re smart,” she said quietly. “But you’re always somewhere else.”

Miles offered a shrug and a crooked smile. “I’m just… multitasking. My brain’s like a browser with forty tabs open and no idea where the music’s coming from.”

She didn’t laugh.

“Miles.” Her tone softened. “One day, you’re going to face something you can’t dodge. You’ll need to slow down. Pay attention. Learn.”

He didn’t answer. Just gave a small nod and walked off, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket where his second phone buzzed with a new notification.

“Retry?”

The hallway buzzed with noise—laughing, shouting, lockers slamming. A chaotic, teenage orchestra.

Miles leaned against his locker, half-listening to Toby and a couple of other boys reenact their teacher’s “math is the framework of the universe” monologue in dramatic Shakespearean accents.

“—and lo!” Toby declared, pointing a protractor like a sword. “I doth divide this quadratic by the holy value of x! For the fate of all hinges on… long division!”

Miles snorted. “You’re gonna get detention for insulting algebra.”

“Worth it.”

He was about to make a comeback when—

“Miles!”

Hazel came jogging down the corridor, weaving between students like a girl on a mission. She had straight brown hair tucked behind her ears and bright green eyes full of intensity. Like most of them, she wore the stiff navy blazer and red-striped tie of their British school’s uniform—but Hazel had added little flower pins along her tie, pastel pink and daisy white.

“Hey,” she said, slightly breathless. “You would not believe the debate in our class. It was about women’s rights and historical systems of oppression and how—”

Miles nodded. “Mhm.”

“—we were comparing witch trials to modern media treatment of women, and it got so heated—”

“Makes sense, yeah,” Miles said, eyes drifting over her shoulder.

“—and Mr. Davies said something kind of outdated so Imogen basically roasted him on the spot—”

“Totally. Brutal.”

Hazel paused. “…Miles?”

His eyes were glazed over again, purple and unfocused behind those yellow-tinted glasses. He gave her a lazy grin, not entirely aware she’d stopped talking.

She sighed, deflating a little. “You’re not even listening, are you?”

“I am! You said… trials and, uh, women. And… history?”

She crossed her arms, pinning him with a look.

Toby coughed into his hand behind them. “Incoming boss battle.”

Hazel ignored him. “It’s just—this stuff matters to me, Miles.”

“I know, I know. I’m just—my brain’s tired. Miss Keyes stole one of my phones. A national tragedy.”

Hazel rolled her eyes. “You had a spare.”

“Yeah, but now I’m one down. What if I get stuck in another boss fight? Who’s gonna slay the undead maths dragon?”

“You could try paying attention to real problems instead.”

There was a flicker in her tone that made Miles stand a little straighter—but before he could say anything, the bell rang.

Hazel turned, her ponytail swinging. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah. Totally.”

She walked off, and Miles watched her go, guilt pricking at the edges of his smirk. Something about her had felt… off. Different. Or maybe it was him.

“Mate,” Toby said, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “You’re cruising for a breakup. Or a pop quiz.”

Miles exhaled, tapping his temple. “Nah. I’ve got this. I’m unbeatable.”

From deep in his pocket, his phone buzzed again.

“Retry?”