Chapter 881 - Integrating into
The air in the locker room was heavy with silence.
The once-tense battlefield had been replaced by the dull hum of flickering lights, the quiet rustling of cadets changing, and the occasional clang of metal lockers being shut. The simulation was over. They had won.
And yet, Asher still couldn't wrap his head around it.
He sat on one of the benches, running a towel through his hair as his gaze flicked toward Astron. The guy was as unreadable as ever, calmly unstrapping his equipment, moving like he hadn't just walked into hell and come back with a trophy.
And that—that was the problem.
Asher hadn't stopped thinking about it since the second the notification hit his ears. How?
He needed answers.
Caden, sitting on the bench across from him, was still processing everything himself, shaking his head as he muttered, "I swear, if I have to fight Rebecca again anytime soon, I might just sit that one out."
Asher ignored him. His focus was on Astron.
And before he even realized it, the words left his mouth.
"How did you get it?"
Astron, mid-motion, glanced at him. "Get what?"
"The artifact." Asher's voice was sharp, clipped. "We learned that Julia was there."
For the first time, Caden looked up. He hadn't asked, hadn't pried—but hearing Asher say it aloud made it real.
That was the question. That was what had been bugging all of them.
They all knew the pecking order. And Julia Middleton was at the top.
Astron wasn't supposed to beat her.
And yet—he did.
Asher exhaled sharply, leaning back against the locker. His muscles were still tense, his heartbeat not quite settled from the fight. But it wasn't from exhaustion. It was from frustration.
Because no matter how many times he replayed it in his head, none of this made sense.
Astron was already an enigma. That much, Asher had begrudgingly accepted. But this? This was different.
'First, he devises a quick plan that's just enough to make things work. Then, in the middle of it, he decides to act on his own and completely bypasses my senses?'
That was what bothered him the most. Asher prided himself on reading people, on being able to anticipate movements, strategies, shifts in behavior. It was how he survived. How he thrived.
And yet, he hadn't sensed Astron moving at all.
By the time he had realized Astron was gone, it was already too late.
Asher stole a glance at Caden, and—judging by his expression—he was thinking the same thing.
Because Astron wasn't just faster than them.
He was operating on a completely different level.
Asher narrowed his eyes, voice flat. "So? What happened?"
Astron finished unstrapping the last of his equipment, then glanced up, seemingly unfazed. "The objective of the exercise was clear from the start."
His voice was even, calm—as if this was obvious.
Asher didn't say anything, waiting for him to continue.
Astron didn't beat around the bush.
"I didn't beat Julia in a fight," he said. "I just took the artifact and ran."
Silence.
Caden blinked, his towel halfway to his face.
Asher stared at him, expression unreadable.
Then, he let out a sharp breath—almost a laugh.
'That's it? That's his answer? He just ran?'
He sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees, studying Astron more carefully now.
"You ran," Asher repeated, his voice laced with skepticism.
Astron nodded once.
"And she just—let you?"
That's what made zero sense.
Julia Middleton wasn't just one of the strongest in their class—she was one of the strongest cadets in the entire academy.
Asher had always thought of Irina Emberheart as the untouchable one. The kind of monster you could only pray to be on the same side as.
But Julia?
Julia was different.
She wasn't just powerful—she was relentless.
She didn't just win—she crushed.
There was a reason why the Middleton family sat at the top. It wasn't just because of their swordsmanship. Their talent as Awakened was borderline unfair.
And yet, Astron sat there, calmly saying he ran.
'How the hell do you run away from someone like Julia?'
Caden finally spoke up, shaking his head. "Nah, see, that's the part that doesn't make sense. You didn't just run. You got away."
Asher's gaze didn't waver. "He's right. If it was that easy, everyone would just run away from her. And yet, no one does."
They had seen her in fights. Julia didn't let people run.
She was fast. Too fast.
Her raw stats were ridiculous, second only to Viktor. Physically, there was no one else close to her.
So how?
How did Astron manage it?
Astron didn't seem the least bit surprised by their reactions. He simply finished adjusting his sleeves, his expression calm, detached.
Then, as if he were explaining something as mundane as weather conditions, he said—
"That's her weakness."
Asher's eyes narrowed. "Weakness?"
Astron nodded. "Those who know they are strong tend to get overconfident."
His tone wasn't mocking, nor was it condescending. It was just fact.
"People like Julia achieve things early that others spend a lifetime chasing. Strength, skill, recognition. They're used to being ahead of everyone else. And once they get there, they have to find things that are fun."
Asher blinked, processing the words.
Fun?
Astron continued, his voice steady. "And for people like that… fun usually means playing around with opponents they think are weaker than them."
Caden let out a short breath, shaking his head. "Tch. That's messed up."
"Not really," Astron replied. "It's just how they are. If every fight feels like a guaranteed win, then why not entertain themselves?"
The way he said it made it sound so… obvious.
And the worst part?
He wasn't wrong.
Asher had seen it before. Fighters who were too strong, too untouchable, too ahead of the curve. They got bored.
It wasn't just Julia. It was Irina, Viktor, some of the prodigies from other academies.
The moment they knew they could win, the moment they felt there was no danger, they would start toying with their prey.
They'd prolong fights just to feel something. They'd hold back, let their opponents struggle, make them believe they had a chance—only to crush them at the last second.
Julia had done the same thing.
It wasn't that Astron had overpowered her.
She had let him run—because she thought she had time.
Because she thought it didn't matter.
But it did.
Astron's gaze flickered toward them, sharp and unwavering.
"In this industry, a single slip can cost one's life."
His voice was calm, but there was something colder beneath the surface.
"And those who are arrogant?" His fingers traced the edge of his wristband. "They're often the first ones to learn that."
He exhaled. "But they don't get a second chance."
Silence.
Neither Asher nor Caden spoke.
Because what could they even say to that?
Astron stood up, stretching slightly before rolling his shoulders back.
But then just as he was already at the door when he paused.
His fingers rested against the metal frame, but instead of stepping out, he turned his head slightly, his sharp purple gaze flickering back toward them.
His expression remained unreadable, but his next words carried a weight that settled heavily in the air.
"And remember. Slips like this also include choosing the wrong side."
Then, he walked out.
The door clicked shut.
Silence.
Asher didn't move. Neither did Caden.
Because they both knew exactly who those words were meant for.
It wasn't for Caden.
It was for him.
A sharp, subtle reminder. A message disguised as an offhand comment.
Asher exhaled through his nose, his jaw clenching slightly.
'Tch.'
It wasn't like he hadn't thought about it before. About where he stood. About the decisions he had made back in the first semester.
But having it thrown back at him like that?
He rubbed his thumb against his knuckles, forcing himself to stay relaxed.
Caden let out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. "Man… That guy sure knows how to leave a room, huh?"
Asher didn't answer immediately. His mind was still turning, still processing.
Because as much as he hated to admit it—Astron had a point.
Slips could be fatal.
And he had made one before.
Now, the only question was—what to do?
It was something that he needed to figure out, and figuring things like these were often hardest.
Chapter 882 - Integrating Into (2)
Julia stepped out of the locker room, rolling her shoulders as she stretched, the faint hum of her voice echoing lightly down the hallway.
She was grinning.
Despite the fact that she had just lost in the exercise, despite the fact that Astron had slipped through her fingers, and despite the fact that she had to hear Damian and Rebecca talk her ear off about it—she was still smiling.
Why?
Because, honestly? She didn't care.
Grades had never mattered to her. Never once in her life had she given a damn about test scores, ranking evaluations, or whatever metric the academy used to sort people into neat little categories.
She knew exactly why she wasn't in the top ten, despite probably being stronger than half the people up there. Her theoretical scores were trash. They had always been trash, and they were going to stay trash.
One slip-up in practical rankings? Whatever. It wasn't like she was gunning for valedictorian or anything.
So, she hummed, tapping her fingers lightly against her thigh as she walked.
But then—
Something felt off.
Julia's blue eyes flicked sideways, noticing a distinct pressure in the air.
Right behind her, Irina was walking with a deadly aura radiating from her entire being.
Not literally, but she might as well have been.
Irina's golden eyes burned, frustration rolling off her in waves as she stormed down the hallway.
She wasn't stomping—Irina Emberheart did not stomp.
But her pace was quick, sharp, every step radiating barely-contained fury.
The passing cadets must have sensed it because they all instinctively moved out of her way, avoiding eye contact like their lives depended on it.
Julia, on the other hand?
She grinned.
This was funny.
"Hey," she said, casual as ever.
Irina didn't respond.
Julia's grin widened as she tilted her head, watching the way people actively fled from Irina's path like she was some kind of vengeful storm goddess about to incinerate the entire academy.
"Hey," she tried again, this time stepping into Irina's path and forcing her to acknowledge her.
Irina's eyes snapped toward her.
Julia raised an eyebrow.
Yep. That was definitely murder in her gaze.
And considering Irina normally looked half-murderous on a good day, that meant someone was about to die.
Julia folded her arms. "Alright. Why are you glaring at everyone like they just personally insulted your ancestors?"
Irina exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair before muttering—
"Ask it to that bastard."
Julia blinked.
Then her smirk widened.
"Ooooh," she drawled, far too entertained. "Who's that bastard? Astron?"
Irina's glare sharpened even further.
"No." She said the word like it was a curse. "It's your twin."
Julia immediately straightened, interest piqued. "Hmm? What happened?"
Irina's fingers twitched, her flames threatening to spark back to life.
And Julia had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
Oh, this was going to be good.
Irina exhaled sharply, hard, like she was actively restraining herself from setting something on fire.
"That guy," she said, her voice clipped and brimming with heat, "just ran off after getting the artifact."
Julia blinked, then tilted her head. "Huh. That sounds like Lucas."
Irina's eye twitched. "That sounds like Lucas?" she repeated, incredulous. "That's all you have to say?"
Julia shrugged, completely unbothered. "I mean, yeah. You've met him, right?"
Irina stopped walking just to glare at her harder.
Julia whistled. "Oh, wow. You're actually about to explode."
"I'm about to do a lot worse than that," Irina snapped. "I held that damn wing alone. I burned through two teams. I did everything right. And then your damn brother comes out of nowhere, takes the artifact, smirks, and runs off like it's a joke."
Julia tried—really, really tried—not to laugh.
Julia bit her lip, her shoulders trembling as she tried—really, really tried—not to burst into laughter.
Because this? This was hilarious.
The irony was almost too much.
What Astron had just done to her, Lucas had just done to Irina.
Both of them had been played. Both of them.
And while Julia could take the loss in stride, Irina was absolutely fuming.
Julia pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to keep her amusement contained, but it was getting harder by the second.
Irina noticed.
"Why are you laughing?" she snapped, golden eyes blazing.
That did it.
Julia let out a full-blown laugh, throwing her head back. "Oh, man—this is too good!"
Irina's glare somehow got even sharper. "Explain. Now."
Still grinning, Julia wiped a nonexistent tear from her eye. "Oh, Irina. You're mad, huh? Yeah, I get it. I really, really get it."
Irina narrowed her eyes. "That wasn't an explanation."
Julia smirked. "Fine. Lemme tell you what just happened to me."
She crossed her arms, leaning in slightly, her blue eyes gleaming with mischief. "I had Astron cornered."
"Astron? He was your opponent?"
"Yep. And, I had him dead to rights. The guy was on the ropes, and all I had to do was finish it."
Irina's expression shifted slightly—mild interest creeping in past the frustration.
"And?"
Julia sighed dramatically. "And? Oh, well, he distracted me with some daggers, blew me up with a damn sphere, snatched the artifact right in front of my face, and jumped out the window."
Silence.
Irina blinked.
For a second, Irina just stared at her.
Julia, still grinning like she'd just won the lottery, tilted her head. "What? Processing?"
Irina blinked once. Then—a smile. Small, barely there, but unmistakably real.
Julia noticed immediately. "Wait, wait—was that a smile? Holy hell, did Astron actually break through the Emberheart Rage Barrier?"
Irina rolled her eyes, but she didn't bother wiping the smirk off her face. Because, honestly?
It was kind of funny.
Astron was just like that. No matter where, no matter who—it was always the same.
Calculating and partially deceptive.
And the fact that Julia—of all people—had just been completely played the exact same way Irina had been?
It helped.
Julia huffed. "Don't even try to deny it—you like hearing this."
Irina shrugged, but the smirk lingered. "Maybe. You're usually annoying when you're winning. Seeing you get outplayed? Feels nice."
Julia put a hand to her heart, feigning deep betrayal. "Wow. Is that really how you see me? Your dear classmate, your best—"
"Don't push it," Irina interrupted flatly.
Julia snorted. "Alright, alright. But you can't even pretend you didn't enjoy that."
Irina didn't respond immediately. Instead, her fingers curled slightly, just a small, instinctive motion as she thought about it more.
Astron had beaten Julia.
And yeah, Julia was her rival. A rival in the sense that they were both strong, both proud, and both had wanted Astron on their teams.
And even though Irina was fully aware that there had never been anything remotely romantic between them—
She still didn't like it.
She didn't like Julia looking at him like that. Didn't like that Julia had gotten to test recruit him before she had. Didn't like that, for even a moment.
But now?
Now Julia had lost.
And that?
That made everything better.
Irina stretched her arms behind her head, satisfied. "So, Astron bested you, huh?"
Julia groaned. "I just told you he blew me up and jumped out a window. Try to keep up."
"I heard," Irina said, golden eyes glinting. "I just like repeating it."
Julia glared. "I take back every nice thing I ever thought about you."
Irina shrugged. "You had nice thoughts about me?"
Julia sighed, muttering, "Yeah, I must've been sleep-deprived."
They had only walked a few more steps when Julia suddenly turned to her with a smirk.
"Hey, have you gotten out of Silver yet?"
Irina flinched.
Chapter 883 - Integrating Into (3)
"Hey, have you gotten out of Silver yet?"
Irina stiffened.
Julia noticed instantly.
Her smirk widened. "Oh my god."
Irina's fingers twitched, her flames sparking at her fingertips. She had tried. She had really tried.
And she should have ranked up already. She was better than this.
But no.
Because every single game had been filled with inters.
Teammates running it down.
Supports wandering off to jungle instead of protecting her.
People AFKing at the worst possible moment.
Absolute brainless morons ruining her matches.
And worst of all—
Julia knew.
"Puahahaha!" Julia burst out laughing, doubling over. "You're still in Silver?! Oh, this is too good—"
FWOOOSH!
A blast of fire shot straight at her.
Julia yelped, barely dodging as a scorch mark sizzled on the ground where she had just been standing.
"Whoa—hey!" she laughed, still grinning. "That's not my fault!"
Irina huffed, crossing her arms. "It is your fault for bringing it up."
Julia wiped fake tears from her eyes, still cackling. "No, no—this is amazing. Irina Emberheart, top combat cadet, future heir to the Emberheart family... still hardstuck Silver!"
Irina glared daggers at her, flames coiling around her fingertips.
Julia took a step back. "Alright, alright, I'll stop—before you actually set me on fire."
Irina let out a sharp breath, shaking off the pure frustration that was bubbling up inside her.
But then—
A thought clicked.
'Right?'
She was in a bad mood. Furious, irritated, on edge.
But that didn't mean she had to waste it.
Julia was still grinning like she had just won something. But Irina wasn't losing again today.
Her golden eyes gleamed as an idea formed.
A way to use this sour mood for something productive.
She smirked, stretching her arms.
Julia's grin faltered, her sharp blue eyes narrowing.
"Wait a second," she said, crossing her arms. "Why are you smiling?"
Irina rolled her shoulders, golden eyes practically glowing with something dangerous. "What? Can't I be in a good mood?"
Julia scoffed. "No. Absolutely not. You were just ready to explode a minute ago, and now you're smirking? That's suspicious."
Irina exhaled through her nose, a lazy smirk still lingering at the corner of her lips.
"I just got an idea."
Julia stared. "…Okay. I hate that. What kind of idea?"
Irina tilted her head, clearly enjoying this. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
Julia blinked. Then, slowly, she leaned in, her gaze piercing.
"You're plotting something," she accused. "You never let things go, and now you've decided to be calm?"
Irina shrugged. "Maybe I just realized I can use this mood for something."
Julia hated this.
Because Irina being pissed? Normal. Expected.
Irina being calm and scheming?
That meant someone—**probably Julia herself—**was about to suffer.
Julia was about to push further when the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Both girls turned, their conversation momentarily interrupted as more cadets exited the locker rooms.
From one side, Ethan and Carl walked out, still mid-conversation.
From the other, Lilia, Sylvie, Jasmine, and Layla emerged together, their expressions shifting the moment they spotted Irina and Julia.
"Yo," Ethan greeted, nodding toward them. "You guys still here?"
His hazel eyes flickered with mild curiosity, as if trying to gauge what exactly they had been discussing.
Julia, still wary of Irina's newfound calmness, waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, you know, just talking about important things."
Carl, as usual, remained silent beside Ethan, his expression unreadable. He barely even acknowledged their presence, simply standing there like an immovable wall of quiet indifference.
Lilia, standing a little off to the side, had her usual composed air about her. Her long green hair cascaded over one shoulder, catching the soft hallway lighting just right, complementing her effortlessly cool beauty. Her sharp red eyes surveyed the scene with a detached sort of awareness, but she didn't comment, simply watching as if she had already analyzed everything of importance.
From the corner of her eye, Sylvie was watching her. Just briefly. Just enough that no one would notice—except, of course, for Jasmine, who always noticed.
"Yo," Jasmine greeted, waving a hand toward both Ethan and Lilia. Her green eyes swept toward Irina next, her usual grin in place. "You guys sticking around or what?"
Irina crossed her arms. "We were just finishing up."
"Good timing, then," Jasmine said with a casual shrug. "We're heading out. Gonna grab something to eat."
Layla stretched her arms over her head before glancing between the group. "Yeah, no point standing around here forever."
Sylvie, still standing slightly behind Jasmine, finally shifted. Her gaze flickered toward Irina, then back toward Lilia—just a quick glance, but one filled with quiet observation. It was as if she was trying to compare something—though even she wasn't sure what.
Irina, for her part, had caught the look. She said nothing, her golden eyes glinting slightly, but the small smirk that crept onto her lips suggested she had definitely noticed.
Lilia, however, seemed unaffected, still standing there with an air of effortless coolness. If she had noticed Sylvie's glance, she gave no indication of it.
Jasmine waved a hand again, stepping back. "Alright, we're off. See you guys later."
Sylvie hesitated for half a second before following after her, while Layla fell in line beside her without question. As they walked away, Sylvie's gaze flickered once more—first at Irina, then at Lilia.
As the others disappeared down the hallway, Irina leaned back against the lockers, crossing her arms. A knowing glint flickered in her golden eyes as she arched an eyebrow.
"You guys were in the same training session?"
Ethan, who had been watching the departing group for a moment longer, nodded. "Yeah."
Carl remained silent beside him, his usual quiet presence unwavering.
Irina tilted her head slightly. "And? How'd that go?"
Ethan let out a short breath, shaking his head. "The teams were unbalanced as hell."
Irina raised an eyebrow. "That bad?"
"Lilia and Carl were on the same team."
Julia, who had been listening, let out a sharp laugh. "Wait, what?" She turned fully toward them, looking between Ethan and Carl as if expecting them to be joking. "Lilia and Carl? Together? Who the hell set that up?"
Ethan huffed a quiet laugh, still clearly annoyed. "No clue. But yeah, it was me, Layla, and Sylvie against them."
"Sylvie was in yours?" Irina repeated, a flicker of curiosity crossing her face.
"Yep. Sylvie, that girl Layla, and me were a team," Ethan confirmed. "And apparently, Lilia, Carl, and Jasmine were on defending."
"Wow," Julia deadpanned, nodding as if she had just come to a serious realization. "That is really unbalanced."
Ethan let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah. Tell me about it."
Carl, still silent, simply nodded once in agreement.
Irina smirked. "So let me guess—you lost?"
Ethan exhaled through his nose, glancing away. "Yeah."
Julia snickered. "Man, that's rough."
"Even with Sylvie?"
Irina raised an eyebrow, genuine curiosity flickering across her face. Unlike Julia, who was just poking fun, she actually wanted to know.
Ethan immediately picked up on it.
Irina already knew about Sylvie's talents. She had scouted her early on, after all.
"Indeed," Ethan admitted with a small exhale. "Even with Sylvie."
Irina's eyes remained steady on him, waiting. Expecting more.
Ethan ran a hand through his hair, still feeling the weight of the match. "Though I must admit," he continued, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful, "I could feel why you went for her immediately when we were picking teams back then."
Irina smirked slightly but didn't say anything.
"Her enchantments are really something," Ethan went on. "Her barriers, her support spells—her control over them is ridiculously precise. Even when I wasn't paying attention, she was adjusting her magic to fit my movements. And her cleansing ability?" He let out a dry chuckle. "That was beyond anything I expected."
Irina hummed in acknowledgment but then muttered under her breath, almost too quiet to catch.
"Well, you haven't even seen her 'talent' yet…"
After all, Irina herself knew the real talent of Sylvie.
Chapter 884 - Integrating Into (4)
The faint hum of mana still lingered in the air as Sylvie stepped into the locker room, the cool artificial lighting casting a soft glow against the sleek metallic walls. The locker room had been reserved specifically for the girls.
The simulation had ended. Their match was over.
And yet, the adrenaline hadn't fully left Sylvie's body.
She took a slow breath, flexing her fingers as if trying to dispel the lingering tension in her limbs. The mana she had burned through during the fight still left a faint ache behind, a reminder of just how much she had exerted herself.
Across the room, Layla sat on one of the benches, unstrapping her boots with a casual ease that suggested she wasn't bothered by the outcome. The moment she noticed Sylvie walking toward her locker, she smirked.
"I think we did really good, considering the cards we were given," Layla said, her voice carrying an easy confidence as she pulled off one boot and set it aside.
Sylvie paused for a moment before nodding. "Yeah," she agreed. "We really did."
And she meant it.
They hadn't won, but looking back, their performance had been solid. The odds had been ridiculously stacked against them—Carl's sheer dominance, Lilia's unrelenting precision, Jasmine's unexpected interference. Despite that, they had lasted longer than they had any right to.
Layla stretched her arms over her head, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Seriously, though. That match-up was insane. I mean, Carl and Lilia? Who the hell put that together?"
Sylvie chuckled softly as she placed her bag in her locker. "Right? It felt so unbalanced."
Layla snorted. "More like straight-up unfair. But honestly, I think we held our ground better than expected."
Sylvie nodded, leaning against the cool metal of her locker. "Yeah. And I think I did pretty well too." She exhaled, glancing at her hands. "I stood my ground against Carl Braveheart."
Layla looked at her, eyebrows rising slightly before a wide grin stretched across her face. "You did!" she exclaimed, leaning forward. "And that's not something just anyone can say. That guy's a monster."
Sylvie chuckled, shaking her head. "He's huge. Blocking his attacks felt like trying to stop a moving wall."
Layla let out a laugh before kicking off the rest of her gear, rolling her shoulders as she relaxed into the bench. "That's because he is a wall." She smirked. "Actually, fun fact—I'm under the same mentor as him."
Sylvie blinked, surprised. "Wait, really?"
Layla nodded. "Yeah. Makes sense, doesn't it? He's a tank, I'm a tank. There aren't many high-ranked tank mentors, so we ended up training under the same one."
Sylvie tilted her head slightly. "That does make sense."
Layla stretched her arms over her head before lowering them with a thoughtful hum. "Since I've trained under the same mentor, I've seen Carl fight up close more than once. And trust me—what we faced in that match? That wasn't even him going all out."
Sylvie exhaled slowly. "I figured as much. Even when I was giving it everything, I could tell he wasn't fully pushing himself."
Layla nodded, leaning forward slightly as she began explaining. "Carl's not just big. He's got an insane level of endurance. His physical durability is off the charts, and his mana reinforcement is absurd." She made a slight motion with her hand. "You saw how I tanked hits and held the line, right?"
Sylvie nodded.
"Well, Carl does that ten times over." Layla scoffed. "I've seen him take direct mana-enhanced strikes from top-ranking cadets and barely flinch."
Sylvie frowned slightly, recalling their battle. "Yeah. I remember attacking him, but he barely reacted. Even when I tried to enhance my strikes, it was like… I wasn't even making a dent."
Layla snorted. "Because you weren't. His entire style is built around making it so nothing can move him. But the scariest part?" She smirked slightly, shaking her head. "It's not his defense."
Sylvie looked at her questioningly. "It's not?"
"Nope." Layla leaned back, her expression slightly more serious. "It's his counterattacks."
Sylvie thought back to their fight, replaying moments in her mind. She had noticed that whenever Carl struck back, the force was overwhelming. It wasn't just brute strength—it was calculated. Every move he made had weight behind it, and when he finally went on the offensive, it was devastating.
Layla continued, "Carl doesn't waste energy attacking when he doesn't have to. He absorbs hits, waits for the right opening, and then—bam." She clapped her hands together. "He strikes back with everything he's been holding in reserve."
Sylvie exhaled, shaking her head in disbelief. "That's terrifying."
Layla grinned. "Oh, it absolutely is. But hey—you held your own against that. Not many people can say that."
Sylvie smiled slightly, feeling a mix of pride and exhaustion settle in. "Yeah… I guess I did."
Just as Sylvie was beginning to fully process Layla's words, the locker room door swung open with a soft click. Both girls instinctively turned toward the entrance, their conversation momentarily put on pause.
Jasmine strolled in first, her usual easygoing demeanor intact as she adjusted the collar of her academy-issued jacket. "Well, that was an absolute mess," she declared, running a hand through her hair. "I still can't believe they threw us into that kind of match-up."
Behind her, a quieter presence followed. Lilia entered with her usual composed grace, her long green hair sleek and perfectly in place despite the high-intensity battle they had just come out of. Unlike Jasmine, whose expression was openly expressive, Lilia's features remained neutral—calm, unreadable, yet undeniably sharp.
Layla smirked as she leaned back against the bench. "Speaking of overpowered opponents…"
Jasmine let out a laugh. "Yeah, yeah. I know you had to deal with Carl, but we had to deal with you and Ethan tearing through people."
Sylvie, however, wasn't looking at Jasmine anymore.
Her green eyes had flickered toward Lilia—just for a second.
Lilia, as if noticing, glanced back at her.
It was brief, almost nothing, but there was something about that split-second of eye contact that sent an inexplicable sensation through Sylvie's chest.
She wasn't sure what it was.
Lilia, for her part, merely nodded slightly in greeting, before turning back toward Jasmine.
"Your team did well," she said evenly, her voice smooth and measured. "Considering what you were up against."
Layla scoffed. "Wow, thanks. That means so much, coming from the person who obliterated half the arena."
Jasmine grinned, nudging Lilia playfully. "She means that as a compliment, by the way."
Lilia simply tilted her head slightly. "I assumed."
Sylvie blinked, clearing her throat. "Uh—yeah. We did what we could."
Jasmine plopped down onto the bench next to Layla, stretching her arms. "Whew. That was fun, though. Stressful, but fun. I need like, five sandwiches after that."
Layla snorted. "Only five? Weak."
Lilia, meanwhile, began undoing the straps of her gloves with precise movements, seemingly unbothered by the conversation. But even as Sylvie tried to focus on anything else, her eyes kept flickering toward her—toward the effortless way she moved, the way she carried herself.
And for some reason, she found herself stealing another glance.
At almost the exact same moment—
Lilia looked at her again.
Sylvie tensed.
And then, with that same unreadable expression, Lilia simply looked away, as if nothing had happened.
As the girls began changing, the locker room filled with the casual rustling of fabric and the occasional clink of metal as armor pieces were set aside. The atmosphere was relaxed, the tension from the battle fading into a quiet ease.
Jasmine, as expected, was the most talkative, chatting animatedly with Layla as they swapped stories from the fight. "Okay, but seriously—the moment I saw Carl charging toward you guys, I knew it was over," Jasmine said, grinning as she pulled off her jacket. "I mean, we were dealing with our own problems, but that? That was just brutal."
Layla laughed, shaking her head as she unbuckled her gear. "Brutal is an understatement. You should've seen Sylvie. She actually went at him head-on."
Jasmine turned, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. "No way. You squared up with Carl?"
Sylvie barely registered their conversation.
Her eyes were elsewhere.
She hadn't meant to stare. But as Lilia, with her usual quiet grace, unfastened her academy-issued uniform, Sylvie found herself frozen in place.
The smooth, effortless motion of Lilia pulling off her jacket revealed the pale, flawless skin underneath, the soft glow of the locker room's artificial lighting casting subtle highlights along her collarbone and shoulders.
She looked like something unreal.
Sylvie had seen beautiful girls before—Irina, with her fiery, striking presence. Julia, with her bold, sharp-edged charm. Senior Maya, exuding confidence and charisma.
But this was different.
This wasn't just beauty.
This was perfection.
Lilia's jade-green hair cascaded down her back, its silky strands gleaming as they draped effortlessly over her delicate frame. The contrast of her dark green locks against her pale, near-translucent skin was mesmerizing, almost ethereal.
Like a fairy.
Like a doll.
Sylvie swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the warmth creeping up her neck.
She forced herself to look away.
But it was harder than she expected.
Lilia, as always, seemed utterly unaware of the effect she had on people. She moved with an unbothered elegance, finishing unfastening her top and folding it neatly before reaching for her fresh set of clothes.
Sylvie exhaled slowly, hoping that no one noticed the way she had hesitated just now.
Chapter 885 - Integrating Into (5)
"Well, you haven't even seen her 'talent' yet…"
Ethan's head tilted slightly. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," Irina replied smoothly, that familiar smirk creeping back onto her lips.
But Ethan knew she had said something.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, but Irina had already moved on, leaning against the lockers like she wasn't hiding anything at all.
"But it's good that you understood her value," she said lazily. "Though you're a bit late."
Ethan scoffed. "Yeah, yeah." He crossed his arms, glancing away. "Maybe."
Julia, who had been quiet for longer than usual, finally rolled her eyes. "Alright, you two stop talking like you're scheming something. It's annoying."
Irina just smirked. "What? Can't I be in a good mood?"
"Absolutely not." Julia deadpanned.
Lilia, who had remained silent through the exchange, finally spoke.
"She's efficient," she said, her voice even, but thoughtful.
Irina turned her gaze toward her, golden eyes gleaming with interest. "Sylvie?"
Lilia nodded, tilting her head slightly as if running through her thoughts before voicing them. "I had been curious for a while," she admitted, crossing her arms. "You picked her early. And you're never careless about the people you choose."
Irina smirked slightly at that but didn't interrupt.
Lilia continued, her crimson gaze sharp. "I didn't see it at first. I've seen support casters before—ones who reinforce, ones who heal, ones who shield. And I've fought against them." She exhaled softly, tapping her fingers against her arm. "But Sylvie is different."
Ethan, who had been listening quietly, shifted slightly, eyes flicking toward her. "How so?"
Lilia met Ethan's gaze, expression neutral but firm. "It's hard to explain."
She left it at that, but inwardly, her thoughts spiraled.
'No. It's not just hard to explain. It doesn't make sense.'
The reason Sylvie had caught her attention wasn't just because of her skills as an enchanter. It wasn't because she was adaptable, or because she had refined techniques that were clearly polished beyond her rank.
It was something deeper.
Something fundamental.
Lilia's fingers twitched slightly, resisting the urge to tap against her arm again.
'The way she controls mana… it feels familiar.'
Lilia had never been a mage. She had never been someone who cast elaborate spells or wielded overwhelming destructive magic. That wasn't her field.
And yet, when it came to understanding mana—how it moved, how it flowed, how it could be manipulated beyond the standard applications—she had always been ahead of the curve.
It was one of the reasons why she had excelled in archery despite her family having no history with it. The way she wove mana into her arrows, the way she shaped it around her shots, the way she could bend the very laws that other archers adhered to… That wasn't something she had been taught.
It was something she understood.
Instinctually.
As if mana itself made sense to her in a way it didn't to others.
Not even Irina, who was a born mage, had that kind of relationship with mana. Irina's spellcasting was refined, her mastery of fire psions was undeniable—but her approach to magic was still methodical, structured. It had rules. It followed a path.
Lilia had never felt bound by those paths.
And now, standing here, she realized that Sylvie… Sylvie was the first person who made her feel like she wasn't alone in that.
The way Sylvie's enchantments had shifted—not just adapted, but flowed, weaving themselves seamlessly into the battlefield, almost like an extension of her will. It was too fluid. Too natural.
'She's not just adjusting her spells. She's shaping them as she casts. Like she's not even thinking about it—it just happens.'
And that…
That was something that only Lilia did.
Her crimson eyes flickered slightly as she kept her expression composed, giving away nothing.
'That's why I noticed it. That's why it felt strange. Because it was too close to the way I control mana.'
She didn't like that feeling.
Lilia took pride in her abilities, in the way she had carved out her own place through talent and instinct. If there was one thing she owned, it was her natural grasp of mana, her ability to take what others needed years to master and make it hers with nothing but understanding.
Lilia's thoughts sharpened, her mind sifting through the details with a methodical precision.
'It's similar, but… different.'
That was what unsettled her the most.
She had fought against countless mages, had seen all types of mana users—those who wielded it through rigid formulas, those who shaped it through willpower, those who refined it through years of discipline.
None of them had ever made her feel like this.
Because while Sylvie's control reminded Lilia of herself, something about it felt off.
An unease settled in her chest, subtle but undeniable.
Her fingers flexed slightly as she recalled the moment mid-battle when Sylvie had conjured a barrier against her arrows. Lilia had felt the energy, traced its flow, tested the way it had been structured.
Her approach had been simple—she had moved, weaving around it, adjusting her shots mid-flight, bending her mana to slip through any gaps in its formation.
And yet…
'It didn't work.'
No matter how precisely she adjusted, no matter how naturally she shaped her own energy, she hadn't been able to bypass it completely.
That shouldn't have been possible.
Lilia's talent—what made her different—wasn't just her skill in archery or her reflexes. It was her ability to manipulate mana as if it were an extension of herself, to flow around obstacles rather than confront them head-on.
And yet, against Sylvie's barrier, her weaving had been blocked.
Not because she lacked the skill. Not because she had miscalculated.
But because something about Sylvie's mana didn't respond the way it should have.
It was like trying to move through water only to find it solidifying around her, refusing to bend, refusing to let her slip through.
That wasn't how barriers were supposed to work.
That wasn't how mana was supposed to react.
Lilia had been forced to overpower it, pushing more energy into her next shot to break through rather than bypass.
And that bugged her.
Because it meant that Sylvie's mana wasn't just instinctually controlled.
It was something else entirely.
'What are you?'
A sharp snap of fingers near her face yanked Lilia from her thoughts. She blinked once, her focus returning to the present as Julia waved a hand in front of her with an exaggerated sigh.
"Hello? Lilia? You still in there?" Julia drawled, tilting her head. "You spaced out for a second."
Lilia exhaled softly, regaining her composure. "I was just thinking."
"Yeah, I noticed." Julia rolled her eyes, then leaned in slightly. "So? What's the deal? You looked like you were deep in thought. You gonna elaborate or what?"
Lilia tapped her fingers against her arm again, this time intentionally. She wasn't the type to explain herself unless she found it necessary, but Julia was persistent. And, truth be told, even she didn't mind voicing what was already circling in her mind.
"She's talented," Lilia said simply.
Julia raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, no kidding. You said that already."
Lilia's crimson eyes flickered slightly, narrowing just a fraction. "No. I mean, she's really talented. In a way I wasn't expecting."
That caught Irina's attention again, her golden gaze sharpening with quiet interest.
Lilia continued, shifting her stance. "I have good mana control. That's something I've always known. Even though I'm not a mage, I've always been able to manipulate mana in ways that others struggle with. It's the reason I excel at archery—not just because I practice, but because I can shape my shots beyond what normal archers can do."
Ethan, who had been silent up until now, nodded slightly, as if that much was obvious.
"But Sylvie…" Lilia hesitated for just a moment before continuing, "…I wasn't expecting that kind of talent from a healer."
Irina smirked slightly, but she didn't say anything. She didn't have to.
Lilia turned to look at Ethan then, something unreadable flickering behind her gaze. "She even used [Cleansing]."
The reaction was immediate.
Chapter 886 - Integrating Into (6)
"She even used [Cleansing]."
The reaction was immediate.
Both Irina and Julia's eyebrows rose in unison, but Julia was the first to speak.
"Wait, what?"
Irina remained silent, her smirk fading into something more thoughtful.
Julia, on the other hand, looked genuinely surprised. "She really used [Cleansing]? Not just a partial purification, but an actual full state removal?"
"Yep," Ethan confirmed, crossing his arms. "She got rid of Carl's [Gravity Command] like it was nothing. I was getting pulled straight into his range, and the next second? Gone. I could move again."
Julia let out a low whistle. "Hah. That's… kind of insane, actually." She turned to Irina, her expression shifting slightly. "You knew she could do that?"
Irina's smirk returned, but this time, there was a glint in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "I had my suspicions."
Lilia didn't react outwardly, but inwardly, her mind was still working.
'[Cleansing].'
That was an advanced ability. Not just something any healer could use—it required not just mana efficiency, but precise control over the nature of magical interference.
Ethan exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I was surprised too, to be honest. Even though we still lost, if not for Sylvie, we wouldn't have had a chance at all."
Irina hummed at that, her golden eyes glinting with thought. "So you do get it."
Ethan scoffed lightly. "I'm not that dense."
Carl, who had remained silent through most of the conversation, finally spoke.
"Your plan was crude."
Ethan turned toward him, blinking. "Well, yeah… That's right." He let out a dry chuckle, not bothering to argue. "Not exactly my best work."
Carl simply nodded, his tone flat. "You focused too much on speed and adaptation, but you didn't account for control. You had no defined role allocation, and your fallback was reactive rather than structured."
Ethan crossed his arms, processing that. He wasn't offended—it was just… true.
Carl was from a military family. The Bravehearts had served in high-level strategic operations for years, with his brother and father both actively deployed. Ethan had heard before that Carl himself participated in missions occasionally—though his rank wasn't particularly high, the experience alone put him on another level when it came to structured combat.
Carl continued, his tone as unreadable as ever. "You relied too much on your brute force."
Ethan let that sink in.
He wasn't wrong.
Carl had controlled the pace of the battle. Lilia had dictated the pressure. Ethan had reacted rather than dictated anything himself.
He frowned slightly, but not in frustration—just thought.
"Yeah," Ethan admitted, "I see what you mean."
Carl gave a short nod, as if that was the only response he had expected.
Irina smirked at the exchange but didn't interject. Julia, on the other hand, looked vaguely amused. "Man, Carl's the last person I'd expect to give actual feedback."
Carl didn't even glance at her. "It's basic strategy."
Julia rolled her eyes. "Right. Basic strategy from someone who's basically half-military."
Carl didn't deny it.
Ethan tapped his fingers against his arm, still letting the conversation sit in his mind.
Yeah. His approach had been too crude. He had treated the match like a combat test, when really, it was structured like a tactical mission.
And he had lost because of it.
He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "Alright. Noted."
Carl simply nodded again, and the conversation settled into a brief silence.
Irina, still watching Ethan with a sharp gaze, finally spoke. "So? You gonna keep relying on your instincts, or are you actually gonna start thinking when you fight?"
Ethan smirked, shaking his head. "You're enjoying this too much."
Irina just grinned. "A little."
Julia stretched her arms above her head, groaning. "Alright, enough battle analysis. I'm starving. Let's go eat."
Ethan, still mulling over Carl's critique, looked up and glanced around. "Where's Lucas? Are we not waiting for him?"
The moment the words left his mouth, he felt a shift in the air.
Irina's golden eyes sharpened as she snapped her gaze toward him, her entire posture stiffening. "That bastard won't be showing his face for a while."
Ethan blinked. "…Okay. That sounded personal."
Julia, who had perked up at the change in conversation, smirked as she practically vibrated with excitement. "Oh, it is. And trust me, it's hilarious."
Lilia, who had been silent up until now, glanced at Irina with a raised eyebrow. "I take it something happened."
"Oh, something definitely happened," Julia confirmed, already practically bouncing as she grabbed her things. "Come on, let's talk about this over food. I promise you, it's worth hearing."
Ethan, now very intrigued, glanced at Irina again. She looked genuinely irritated, which was a rare sight. Usually, Irina had a controlled kind of frustration—this, though? This was different.
He smirked. "Alright. Now I have to hear this."
Irina huffed, crossing her arms. "You'll regret it."
Julia only cackled. "Oh no, they'll love it."
And just like that, the group made their way out, the curiosity practically buzzing in the air.
Whatever Lucas had done, it was going to be good.
*******
The crisp evening air carried a gentle breeze, stirring the strands of Irina's hair as she stepped outside. The academy grounds stretched before her, illuminated by soft golden lights lining the pathways. With the spring semester settling in, the weather had grown pleasant, the sharp winter chill finally giving way to something far more comfortable.
She didn't rush.
Instead, she walked with a measured pace, letting her eyes wander over the students scattered across the open spaces. Some were grouped together, talking and laughing, their post-training exhaustion making their movements lazier. Others sat beneath the trees, flipping through notes or idly scrolling through their smartwatches, enjoying the cooler air before heading back inside.
Irina's gaze flicked toward a pair of first-years attempting to spar near one of the smaller training circles. Their stances were off, their attacks predictable—but their enthusiasm was obvious.
She exhaled, rolling her shoulders slightly.
Not that she particularly cared about any of this.
She was just waiting.
And everyone knew who she was waiting for.
Her fingers twitched slightly at the thought, but she quickly steadied herself, slipping both hands into her pockets as she continued walking.
She had a plan.
Oh, it wasn't a complicated plan. It wasn't even a particularly devious one.
But it was one she intended to follow through on.
Irina's pace slowed as she finally reached her destination.
Beneath the glow of the academy lights, near one of the quieter training areas, he stood.
Waiting.
His presence was as calm as ever—unshaken, unreadable, annoyingly composed.
"You are here."
The voice was even, steady, carrying no unnecessary emotion.
Irina's golden eyes flicked up, meeting the sharp, cool violet of his gaze.
"Astron."
He held her stare for a moment before offering a simple reply.
"I am."
Irina exhaled lightly, stepping up to his side.
"Have you been waiting for long?"
"Just came," Astron replied, voice neutral.
A slow smirk tugged at Irina's lips.
"Heh… Liar. You always come early."
Astron didn't deny it.
He didn't say anything at all.
Just held that same calm, unreadable expression—one that only made Irina more certain she was right.
She tilted her head slightly, studying him. "Then again… that's just like you, isn't it?"
Astron glanced at her, his gaze quiet, but still sharp. He didn't ask what she meant. He didn't have to.
Irina stretched her arms behind her head, letting the cool night air settle over her.
"So," she said, flicking a glance back toward him. "Are you ready?"
"For?"
Her smirk deepened. "You'll see."
Astron's sharp purple eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze steady as he observed Irina with a hint of suspicion. "What are you planning?" he asked, his voice even but laced with a quiet wariness.
Irina merely grinned, her fiery yellow eyes gleaming with amusement. "Just follow me. You'll see."
Astron didn't move right away. He studied her for a moment longer, as if trying to decipher the layers beneath her words. But Irina remained as confident and unreadable as ever, her smirk unwavering.
Finally, he exhaled softly, his posture relaxing by the smallest fraction. "Fine."
Satisfied, Irina turned on her heel, her hands slipping back into her pockets as she walked ahead. Astron, with his usual calm, fell into step beside her, his gaze flicking toward her every so often as they moved through the academy grounds.
The pathway stretched out before them, lit by the soft glow of the campus lamps. The quiet hum of distant conversations filled the air, but Irina paid them no mind. She was focused.
'He's following. Good.'