The bell rang. Sergeant Luther gathered his projector and dismissed the class with a final warning about the upcoming test. The elite class students packed their notes and filed out of the classroom, tired but hungry.
"I need food," Brenden announced. "My brain is fried from all those Vexxi and Syllvans."
"You barely wrote two pages of notes," Oliver said.
"Two pages is a lot for me."
Arthur walked at the front of the group, the Pirstein book tucked under his arm. Damian and Magnum were discussing something about the coalition's tactics. Warden and Vor followed behind, while Noah and Oliver flanked the sides.
They entered the cafeteria.
The moment they stepped through the doors, the atmosphere shifted.
The cafeteria was massive — rows of long metal tables where hundreds of cadets sat eating, talking, laughing. But as the elite class walked toward the food counters, the noise didn't stop. It changed.
Conversations lowered. Heads turned. Eyes followed them.
Arthur noticed. He always noticed.
"Keep walking," he said quietly.
They moved through the cafeteria like a blade through water. The crowd parted for them — not out of respect, but out of something else. Fear. Resentment. Maybe both.
At a table near the left wall, a group of Section A students watched them pass.
"There they go," one of them muttered. "The teacher's pets."
"Eight people got their own building, their own teachers, their own med bay," another said. "While the rest of us share bunks and eat cold food."
"I heard their dorm has heated floors."
"Heated floors? My dorm doesn't even have hot water."
A girl with sharp features and a noble house crest on her uniform — the Vancroft family crest, a silver hawk — leaned back in her chair. "My father donated three million credits to this academy. And they gave the best facilities to a bunch of orphans and commoners."
"Two of them are from the Green family," someone pointed out.
"The Greens are minor nobles," the Vancroft girl sneered. "Barely nobility. And the Storm boy? His own family doesn't want him. He's a fire user in a wind family. An embarrassment."
---
At another table, a group of Section B cadets were less subtle.
"Look at Reinhart," a boy with a bruised jaw said. He was one of the hundred who had been beaten in the brawl. His arm was still in a sling. "Walking around like he owns the place."
"His father was a legend," another boy replied. "But Arthur's just riding the name. Without that name, he'd be nothing."
"I heard the Storm kid is a reject from his own family."
"I heard the Nexalus kid's entire family got wiped out because they were too weak."
"And the Blade kid? Level three trash in the elite class. What a joke."
They laughed. But it was a nervous laugh. Even while mocking, they kept their voices low enough not to carry too far.
---
Near the center of the cafeteria, a table of Section C students watched with a different kind of gaze.
"I don't get it," a younger cadet said. "Why does everyone hate them?"
An older cadet — a second-year who had stayed back for remedial training — answered without looking up from his food. "Because they're better than us. And everyone knows it."
"That's a reason to respect them, not hate them."
"Respect and hate are closer than you think. When someone has what you want, it's easier to tear them down than to lift yourself up." He took a bite. "That's human nature, kid."
---
At the food counter, Arthur and his group loaded their trays.
"Don't react," Arthur said quietly.
"We can hear them," Vor muttered. His knuckles were white around his tray.
"I know," Arthur said. "That's the point. They want a reaction. Don't give it to them."
"They're talking about our families," Damian said. His voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp. "About your father. About Vor's family."
"Let them talk."
Brenden grabbed three sandwiches and a carton of milk. "I don't care what they say about me. My family already says worse at every family gathering." He tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"It's not right," Warden said.
"No," Arthur agreed. "It's not. But we already beat a hundred of them into the med bay. If we do it again, Nathan won't let us off so easily."
"So we just take it?" Vor asked.
Arthur turned to face them. His expression was calm, but there was something cold beneath it. "We take it for now. But every name, every insult, every person who looks at us like we don't belong here — remember them. One day, we won't be cadets anymore. One day, we'll have power. And on that day..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
---
They found an empty table near the back. As they sat down, the whispers continued.
"That's Magnum Windbreaker. He gave himself his own last name. How pathetic."
"I heard Oliver and Noah only got in because their family pulled strings."
"The Grey kid lost his parents and his sister. Whole family is cursed."
"Reinhart thinks he's special because of his father. Wait till he faces real soldiers."
"Vor Nexalus — more like Vor Nobody."
---
Arthur sat with his back straight, eating calmly. But his ears caught every word.
Brenden devoured his sandwiches, pretending not to care. But his chewing was a little too aggressive.
Warden stared at his food, jaw tight.
Magnum and Damian exchanged a glance but said nothing.
Oliver and Noah sat shoulder to shoulder, silent and steady.
Vor pushed his food around his tray, not eating. Damian nudged him. "Eat," he said quietly. "Don't let them see you affected."
"I'm not affected," Vor said. But his voice cracked slightly.
---
At the noble table, the Vancroft girl stood up. She was tall, with dark hair pulled back tightly and the silver hawk crest gleaming on her chest. Her name was Celestia Vancroft, and she was ranked ninth among the first-year recruits — the highest rank outside the elite class.
She walked past their table slowly, deliberately.
"Enjoy your special treatment while it lasts," she said, not looking directly at them. "The Azure Dragon Competition is in eight months. There are no special classes there. No private buildings. Just you and your fists." She paused. "And when you lose, everyone will see that you were never special. Just lucky."
She continued walking.
Arthur took a sip of water. "She's wrong," he said.
"About what?" Brenden asked.
"We weren't lucky." He set his cup down. "We survived Captain Leo at seventeen power. We beat a hundred cadets with our bare hands. We're not lucky. We're dangerous. And she knows it. That's why she's scared."
The group was silent for a moment.
Then Brenden grinned. "Dangerous. I like that."
"Me too," Warden said.
Vor finally took a bite of his food.
Damian allowed himself a small smile. "So what do we do now?"
Arthur leaned back. "We eat. We train. We study. And in eight months, at the Azure Dragon Competition, we remind everyone why they were scared in the first place."
He raised his cup.
"To the Lions."
One by one, the others raised their cups.
"To the Lions."
---
At the far end of the cafeteria, Captain Leo stood in the shadows of the serving area, arms crossed. He had heard everything — the whispers, the insults, Arthur's speech.
General Nathan appeared beside him. "You're not going to intervene?"
"No."
"They're bullying your students."
Leo watched the elite table. Watched them raise their cups together. "That's not bullying. That's forging."
"Forging what?"
Leo turned and walked away. "Soldiers."
---
End of Chapter