Chapter 164 - HA 164

Chapter 926 - Aftermath 

The air in the office felt heavier once the others left. The faint click of the door closing behind Melanie and Grayson seemed to echo longer than it should have, leaving behind a silence thick with unspoken tension.

Ethan remained standing, his hands still clenched at his sides, his knuckles white from how tightly he had been gripping his own frustration. He hadn't moved. Hadn't spoken. But the anger simmering in his hazel eyes hadn't faded either.

Eleanor sighed and leaned back in her chair, pressing two fingers against her temple as if willing away an oncoming headache. It was only midday, and she had already handled two brawls, four disciplinary hearings, and now this mess. The academy was in chaos, students turning on each other, power struggles happening in every corner. And at the center of it all?

Ethan.

She dropped her hand and finally looked at him. He was still tense, but his breathing was steady—controlled, despite everything. That, at least, was a good sign.

Eleanor sighed. "You're not going to sit?"

Ethan shook his head stiffly. "I didn't do it."

It wasn't an argument. Just a fact. One spoken with quiet, unwavering certainty.

Eleanor's blue eyes studied him for a moment before she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. "I know."

Ethan's posture stiffened just slightly, but his expression remained unreadable.

She knew.

She had known the whole time.

But it didn't change a damn thing.

Eleanor exhaled slowly, watching his reaction. "You're angry."

Ethan scoffed softly, a sharp exhale through his nose. "Of course I'm angry," he muttered. "I got punished for something I didn't do."

She didn't argue. Because he was right.

Ethan clenched his jaw, his voice lowering. "If you knew I didn't do it, why didn't you stop it?"

Eleanor studied him carefully before she spoke. "Because that's how the world works."

The words landed like a blow, cold and absolute.

Ethan's jaw tensed. "That's bullshit."

Eleanor sighed. "No. It's reality."

She leaned forward slightly, her voice quieter but firm. "Ethan, do you honestly think this is the last time this will happen to you? That this was just about some classroom dispute?" Her gaze sharpened. "This isn't about what did or didn't happen. It's about power. Influence. And whether you like it or not, your name is starting to mean something."

Ethan frowned slightly, but he didn't interrupt.

Eleanor's voice remained steady, measured. "Your rank is rising. Fast. Faster than anyone expected. You're outperforming students older than you, making a name for yourself whether you intended to or not. And do you know what happens when people like you rise too quickly?"

Ethan's silence was answer enough.

She exhaled. "People start paying attention. People above you, people below you. And not all of them want to see you succeed."

Ethan finally moved, taking a slow step closer to the desk, his hands still clenched at his sides. "So what?" he muttered. "I'm just supposed to let them do this? Let them step on me?"

Eleanor's gaze didn't waver. "No. But you need to be smarter about it."

Ethan scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't see how staying quiet and taking the punishment helps me."

Eleanor's lips pressed into a thin line. "Because right now, they think they've won. Grayson, Melanie, all of them—they believe they just taught you a lesson. They believe you'll fall in line, that this was enough to break you down."

She tapped a finger against the desk, her blue eyes sharp. "But if you had fought back here? You would've lost more."

Ethan's teeth clenched, but he said nothing.

Eleanor leaned back slightly, folding her arms. "You're frustrated. I get that. But you need to stop thinking of every battle as a fight you can win just because you're right."

She let the words sink in before continuing. "This wasn't about justice, Ethan. This was a game. One they've been playing far longer than you have."

Ethan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His anger wasn't gone—not even close—but Eleanor could see it shifting. Becoming something more controlled, more focused.

That was what she needed.

She leaned forward again. "You're going to face this kind of thing again. Probably many more times. People are going to try to control you, to use your own strength and pride against you. And if you react the way they expect?" She tilted her head. "Then you let them dictate how this plays out."

Ethan's hazel eyes flickered, as if considering something.

Eleanor studied him for a long moment before she finally let out a breath and leaned back. "You have talent, Ethan. More than most. But raw talent isn't enough in this academy." Her voice softened, just slightly. "Learn the game. Or you'll keep losing."

Ethan remained silent for a long moment, staring at the desk.

Then, finally, he let out a slow exhale, his posture loosening just a fraction. "…Understood."

Eleanor watched Ethan carefully, noting the way his jaw remained tight, the way his shoulders stayed tense despite his controlled breathing. He had calmed, but only slightly—only just enough to keep himself from lashing out.

She knew that feeling. The anger of knowing you were right but being forced to accept defeat anyway. It was a hard lesson to swallow, but one he needed to understand if he was going to survive the academy's power struggles.

After a moment, she leaned back, arms crossing loosely over her chest. "You know what the disciplinary action includes, don't you?"

Ethan exhaled, nodding stiffly. "Suspension from combat activities. No access to training grounds." His tone was clipped, measured, but Eleanor caught the edge of frustration beneath it.

That was expected.

She let the silence hang for a moment, then—she smiled.

Ethan noticed immediately, his eyebrows twitching upward in faint confusion. "What?"

Eleanor tilted her head slightly. "You won't be able to train in the academy's facilities," she mused, tapping a finger against the desk, "but… that doesn't apply to mentorship."

Ethan frowned slightly, trying to process her words.

She met his gaze, her blue eyes gleaming with something knowing, something deliberate. "I'll inform Astron as well," she said smoothly. "From now on, you'll be training there."

Eleanor's gaze remained steady, watching Ethan's reaction with quiet amusement as realization dawned on him. He blinked once, then twice, his shoulders tensing ever so slightly.

She leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers lightly against the desk. "Additionally," she continued, her tone almost casual, "whenever my schedule allows it, I'll be joining your training sessions."

Ethan's breath hitched.

A cold sensation trickled down his spine, his instincts immediately screaming at him in warning. Not because of the words themselves—but because of the way she said them.

Eleanor White didn't just join training.

No, whenever she was present, the rules of reality seemed to bend in unnatural, terrifying ways. Gravity became a weapon, the air itself turned against them, and every second felt like an eternity of relentless survival. The training facility was already brutal, but with her overseeing it firsthand? That wasn't just training.

That was hell.

Ethan swallowed, his expression tightening. "You… will be joining us?"

Eleanor's lips curled slightly. "Whenever I can."

Ethan's body instinctively prepared for impact. He could already imagine the future—days where they would enter the facility, expecting to push through the usual grueling regimen, only to find Eleanor standing there, waiting.

Watching.

Judging.

Then, with the simplest motion—perhaps a flick of her wrist or a slight increase in mana—she would break them.

He had already experienced a taste of what Eleanor's personal training was like. Just recalling it was enough to send his muscles into phantom pain. Astron, for all his adaptability, wouldn't be spared either. No, if anything, Eleanor's words meant that their suffering would now be scheduled.

This wasn't mercy.

This was a death sentence.

Ethan exhaled sharply through his nose, forcing his expression to remain neutral. But Eleanor, ever perceptive, had already caught onto his discomfort. She tilted her head slightly, as if considering something, before speaking again.

"You seem troubled," she mused, her voice light but edged with something dangerous. "Is there a problem, Ethan?"

Ethan hesitated for half a second—half a second too long.

Eleanor's eyes gleamed.

He had walked right into it.

"…No, Professor," he muttered, already resigned to his fate.

She nodded approvingly, leaning back with a satisfied hum. "Good. Then I'll see you at training."

Ethan barely resisted the urge to sigh.

Astron, you better appreciate that we're in this together, he thought grimly. Because this was about to become the worst—no, most educational—period of their lives.

Chapter 927 - Aftermath (2)

Eleanor walked briskly through the academy halls, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floors as she made her way toward the Headmaster's office. The corridors were quieter than usual—most students were still in their designated areas, training or attending lectures—but the silence only served to amplify the thoughts swirling in her mind.

The call from the Headmaster had been expected, yet the timing of it was… suspicious.

She could already guess the subject.

The growing divide between the freshmen and sophomores had been simmering for some time now, but these recent spikes in aggression? They weren't natural.

This wasn't just a case of upperclassmen asserting dominance.

Someone was pulling the strings.

She knew it. The academy knew it. But no one could prove it—not yet.

Too Many Incidents. Too Many Patterns.

In the past three weeks, tensions had escalated rapidly.

Several fights had broken out, all conveniently in places where faculty intervention was delayed.

Three cadets had already been expelled—all of them sophomores.

Yet, even before today's case with Ethan, multiple disciplinary actions had been taken against both sides—but disproportionately against the first-years.

The academy wasn't turning a blind eye to it. They were taking action—but was it enough?

Eleanor exhaled slowly, adjusting the cuff of her uniform as she turned a corner.

The freshmen are being pushed into a corner.

And what happens when people are pushed too far?

They start fighting back.

That's what someone wanted. Not discipline. Not control. They wanted a full-blown confrontation.

Someone was deliberately provoking this conflict.

And if it wasn't stopped soon, it wouldn't be just fights in the hallways.

It would be something worse.

Ethan Hartley: A Naïve Fool, or a Future Problem?

Despite the bigger picture, her thoughts kept drifting back to one person.

Ethan.

Naïve. Frustratingly naïve.

Strong, yes. But naïve.

He was getting stronger too quickly, and he was doing it without realizing what that meant. He was the kind of person who thought that being right was enough to win. That strength alone could change the outcome.

That kind of thinking?

It was dangerous.

Eleanor had seen too many cadets like him before. The ones who rose too fast, too young, too unprepared for the political and strategic games that came with power. Some of them survived. Some of them even thrived.

But most?

They burned out.

Or worse.

She sighed through her nose, rolling her shoulders slightly to ease the tension creeping into them.

Ethan was strong. There was no denying it. His physical potential alone put him on track to be an elite-level Hunter, and his instincts—while undisciplined—showed raw promise.

But if he didn't learn how to navigate the battlefield outside of combat?

He'd end up like so many others before him.

And Eleanor?

She didn't have the patience for wasted potential.

*****

Eleanor pushed open the heavy doors of the meeting room, stepping inside with purpose. The large chamber, typically used for strategic discussions among faculty, was already filled with the murmurs of gathered professors and instructors. The long, rectangular table at the center was lined with neatly stacked files—student profiles, incident reports, and records of disciplinary actions taken over the past month.

The Headmaster sat at the head of the table, his sharp eyes scanning the room as he waited for silence. The tension was palpable. This meeting had been called with urgency, and everyone knew why.

Eleanor quickly took her seat, eyes flicking across the room. Some professors looked concerned. Others looked frustrated. A few looked outright defiant.

The door shut with a soft thud behind her, signaling the beginning of the meeting.

Jonathan leaned forward, folding his hands over the table. His voice, when he spoke, was low but carried the unmistakable weight of authority.

"We have a problem," he stated plainly. "One that can no longer be ignored."

He tapped a finger against the nearest file—one labeled with Ethan Hartley's name—before sweeping his gaze across the room.

"In the past month, we have seen an increasing divide between our first-year and second-year cadets. At first, we dismissed it as routine tensions between classes, but after the last three weeks, that theory no longer holds." His voice hardened. "Someone is provoking this."

Several murmurs of agreement rose among the faculty, but others remained silent, their expressions guarded.

Jonathan continued. "We've taken disciplinary actions. We've attempted to contain the aggression. Yet, the incidents are not only continuing but escalating. Three sophomores have already been expelled, yet the tensions remain."

He glanced at Eleanor, nodding slightly for her to add to the discussion.

Eleanor straightened, speaking with the same level of calm authority. "What we're seeing now is no longer just fights. It's a deliberate attempt to force a larger conflict. The first-years are being pushed into a corner, and if this continues, retaliation will become inevitable." She let the weight of her words settle before adding, "And when that happens, it won't be in some hallway scuffle. It will be something worse."

The room fell into silence, professors exchanging glances of concern.

Jonathan's fingers drummed against the desk, his tone turning sharper. "Effective immediately, academy surveillance will be increased."

A murmur of discontent rippled through the professors, but before anyone could interrupt, Jonathan continued, his voice unwavering.

"We cannot afford to let this spiral further. We will be implementing increased monitoring of student interactions, including dormitory perimeters and common areas. Any unauthorized group gatherings will be flagged for review. Additional faculty will be assigned to high-risk locations."

At that, several professors finally voiced their opposition.

"This level of surveillance is excessive," Professor Hale, a seasoned instructor known for his strong ties with noble families, argued. "We are not a military compound, Headmaster. We are an academy. The students come here to grow, not to be treated like potential criminals."

Another professor, a middle-aged woman with short auburn hair, spoke next. "Many of the families already feel that we are overreaching with our authority. If we impose this level of control, it will only deepen their distrust. Some of them could take action against the academy."

Jonathan's gaze turned sharp, but before he could speak, another voice chimed in—one he had been expecting.

Amelia.

His daughter, standing near the back of the room, arms crossed. Her tone was firm but laced with irritation.

"Father, I understand that the situation is serious. But you're pushing too far. The students need structure, not suffocation. If we do this, we risk turning the academy into a prison. That's not going to fix the real problem—it will only make things worse."

A few murmurs of agreement echoed around the room.

Jonathan exhaled, his patience wearing thin. He leaned forward, his gaze cold and unyielding.

"You are all mistaken," he said, his voice like steel. "The real problem is that we have let things spiral too far. We have allowed hesitation, concern for perception, and outside influences to dictate how we run this academy."

He stood, hands pressing against the table. The sheer weight of his presence silenced the entire room.

"I will not let this escalate any further." His voice was calm, but it carried the unmistakable force of a Venerate—one of the Federation's strongest.

His next words sent a wave of shock through the room.

"Club activities are suspended indefinitely."

The reaction was immediate.

"Suspended?" Professor Hale shot up from his chair, eyes wide with disbelief. "Headmaster, that's absurd! The clubs are a vital part of the academy's structure!"

"They are also one of the few places where students gather unsupervised. And in this current climate, that is an unnecessary risk," Jonathan countered, his voice unwavering.

"This is going too far!" Another professor objected. "Club activities keep the students engaged, they foster teamwork and camaraderie—if we take that away, what do you think will happen? They will resent us."

"They already resent each other," Jonathan shot back coldly. "And that resentment is being manipulated. Someone is fanning the flames of this divide, and until we uncover who and why, I will not allow the academy to provide them more opportunities."

A voice of protest rose once more—this time from Amelia.

"This is not the way to handle this, Father." She stepped forward, her frustration evident. "By shutting down the clubs, you're taking away one of the only things keeping the students grounded. If you strip them of their sense of normalcy, you're going to push them further apart."

Jonathan's gaze met his daughter's—steely, unrelenting. "And if I do nothing, we risk more than a few disgruntled students."

The room remained tense, filled with unreadable expressions. Jonathan had made his decision, and they all knew it. The discussion was over.

After a long silence, Eleanor finally spoke. "Headmaster… if we're doing this, then we need to prepare for backlash. From the students. From the families. Even from the guilds."

Jonathan exhaled, nodding slowly. "I know." His voice was quieter now, but no less firm. "But we cannot afford to be complacent."

He turned toward the rest of the room, his gaze sweeping over the gathered faculty.

"We do not serve the guilds." His voice was clear, unwavering. "We do not serve the families. We do not serve the government."

He straightened, his presence filling the room like an unshakable force.

"We serve the academy. And we will do what must be done to protect it."

Silence followed.

One by one, the professors gave reluctant nods. Some still looked dissatisfied. Some outright frustrated. But none dared to challenge him further.

Amelia, standing near the back, clenched her fists but said nothing. She knew better than to fight him on this now. But the battle between them was not over.

Eleanor sighed inwardly. This was going to get worse before it got better.

Jonathan took one last look at the room before finally giving his final command.

"Dismissed."

Chapter 928 - Aftermath (3)

Ethan walked along the dimly lit pathways of the academy, his hands tucked into his pockets, his mind churning with frustration. The cold night air did little to cool the burning in his chest.

A reprimand and a suspension.

That was the outcome.

That was what they decided after everything.

He clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into fists in his pockets. His body still ached, his ribs sore despite the healing, but the real pain wasn't physical. It was the fact that Melanie had gotten away with it. Again.

The way she had smiled. The way Grayson had protected her so effortlessly.

They had already decided the outcome before he even stepped into that office.

Ethan exhaled slowly, forcing his breath to steady.

'They want me to take this loss. They expect me to just move on like it never happened.'

But he wasn't going to forget.

No.

He would remember every second of this.

His smartwatch vibrated.

Ethan blinked, his thoughts briefly interrupted as he pulled it up. A call.

Julia.

Frowning, he answered. "Yeah?"

The second the call connected, Julia's voice came through urgently.

"Ethan, something happened."

His spine straightened immediately. "What?"

"It's Lilia," Julia said, her voice sharp. "She was attacked."

Ethan's eyes narrowed.

Attacked?

"When?" His voice dropped, low and controlled.

"Tonight," Julia responded quickly. "I just got word from her. She was found outside the training grounds—injured. She's in the infirmary now, but—"

Ethan was already turning, already moving.

"Who did it?"

Julia let out a slow breath. "We don't know yet. There were no witnesses, and she wasn't able to get a clear look at her attackers."

Ethan's jaw clenched. No witnesses? That was too convenient.

His mind was still processing when Julia's tone shifted.

"Ethan," she said, her voice serious now. "I need to know what happened with you today."

Ethan inhaled sharply, debating whether or not to get into it right now. But then, as he thought about it—

He realized something.

This wasn't unrelated.

He exhaled. "They set me up."

A pause. Then, Julia's voice came through, sharp.

"Explain."

Ethan quickly ran her through what had happened—the baiting, the illusion, the fight, the rigged disciplinary hearing.

By the time he finished, the silence on the other end of the call was tense.

Then, Julia cursed.

"That's it," she said, her voice now carrying pure determination. "We're calling a meeting. Now."

Ethan barely had time to respond before the call ended.

*****

The room they had chosen was an old study hall—one that was rarely used this late at night. The soft glow of the lanterns lining the walls cast long shadows across the wooden desks, their presence doing little to warm the chill that hung in the air.

Julia was already there when Ethan arrived, leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, her expression set in grim determination. Lucas and Carl were seated at the nearest table, their usual relaxed postures replaced by tense alertness. Irina stood near the window, her back straight, golden eyes watching the campus grounds below as if expecting trouble to appear at any moment.

And then there was Lilia.

Ethan's gaze flickered to her immediately. She sat on the edge of one of the desks, her usual easygoing smirk absent. Instead, her face was tight with exhaustion, and though she tried to hide it, Ethan could see the stiffness in her movements—the subtle tension in her shoulders, the way she held herself just a little too carefully.

Bruises lined the side of her neck, faint but visible. There was a cut on her arm, already treated but still fresh enough that she was careful not to move it too much.

His jaw clenched.

Lilia noticed his stare and rolled her eyes. "Relax, Mountain Boy," she said, voice lighter than it should have been. "I'm not dead yet."

"You look like hell," Ethan said bluntly.

"Right back at you," Lilia shot back, giving him a once-over.

Ethan ignored the remark, stepping fully into the room. His ribs still ached, but he forced himself not to favor them. It was nothing compared to the weight pressing against his mind.

Julia pushed off the wall. "Alright. Let's not waste time." Her sharp gaze swept over them. "We need to figure out what the hell is going on."

Lucas leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Let's start with what we know." His voice was calm, measured, but there was an edge beneath it. "Lilia was attacked tonight, right after Ethan got suspended for a fight that was clearly set up. Too much of a coincidence."

Ethan exhaled slowly, his mind already piecing things together. "It's not a coincidence," he said. "They're connected."

Carl frowned. "You sure?"

Ethan gave him a look. "Come on. We're not that stupid."

Lilia sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Whoever jumped me wasn't trying to kill me. They were just making a point."

The tension in the study hall thickened as Lilia's words settled over the group. Ethan leaned against one of the desks, his arms crossed tightly as his sharp gaze remained fixed on her.

Julia exhaled, tilting her head slightly. "Alright, let's start from the beginning. Tell us exactly what happened."

Lilia rolled her shoulders, wincing slightly at the stiffness still lingering in her muscles. "I was training at the archery grounds when I sensed some people approaching. At first, I ignored it—students come and go there all the time. But then the door to my section opened, and before I knew it, I was dodging a mana strike."

Irina frowned, stepping away from the window. "A direct ambush? In a public training space?"

Lilia let out a dry chuckle. "That's the thing—it wasn't public at the time. The security cameras were 'coincidentally' under maintenance."

Lucas and Carl exchanged a glance.

Julia narrowed her eyes. "So they planned this."

Lilia nodded. "It was a setup. Four of them—all seniors, all skilled. They didn't come to test me or pick a fight. They came to make a statement."

Carl frowned. "Did you recognize them?"

Lilia's expression darkened slightly. "Yeah. Two of them were from Olympus Vanguard—Renald Voss and Elara Nox."

"From your guild? Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"…."

Julia's brow furrowed. "This wasn't just some internal guild squabble, then. Someone orchestrated this."

Lilia smirked, but there was no humor in it. "Oh, I know exactly who."

The room stilled.

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

Lilia leaned back slightly, her crimson eyes cold.

"Selene."

A pause. Then—

"Selene? Your sister?" Carl asked, blinking.

Lilia nodded. "Yeah."

Lucas frowned. "Since when is she involved in this?"

Lilia exhaled, rubbing her temple. "She's been watching. She showed up at the Archery Club recently, acting like it was just to 'observe.' But after tonight, it's obvious—she's not just watching. She's interfering."

The weight of Lilia's words settled over the room like a lead curtain. No one spoke immediately, but the unspoken tension between them was clear.

They had all been keeping tabs on Olympus Vanguard's internal shifts. The guild was constantly shifting, aligning itself based on power, strategy, and influence

But this?

Selene had crossed a line.

"She really doesn't hold back, does she?" Lucas muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Carl scoffed. "We knew she was making moves behind the scenes, but sending four trained seniors after Lilia? That's more than just maneuvering for power. That's a warning."

Irina's golden eyes darkened. "She's setting the board her way. Trying to remove a piece before it can become a threat."

Ethan's fingers curled slightly against the desk, his expression unreadable. "Then we should—"

"No."

Lilia's voice cut through the rising tension, sharp and deliberate.

They all turned to her.

Julia frowned. "What do you mean, no?"

Lilia exhaled, sitting up straighter despite the lingering soreness in her body. "We don't have proof."

Carl blinked. "Lilia, you were beaten. How much more proof do you need?"

Lilia shook her head. "Selene's not sloppy. If we try to bring this up now, without evidence, do you know what'll happen?"

Lucas let out a frustrated sigh. "She'll act like she had nothing to do with it."

"Worse," Lilia corrected, her tone bitter. "She'll make it look like I'm trying to put dirt on her. That I'm just being paranoid, bitter over a loss, stirring up trouble where there isn't any."

A silence stretched between them.

Carl let out a breath. "You're right."

Lilia leaned forward, her crimson gaze unwavering.

Lilia leaned forward, her crimson gaze unwavering. "Aside from that," she continued, her voice even but carrying weight, "I already informed Father."

A hush fell over the room.

Ethan's eyes narrowed slightly. Julia straightened. Even Carl and Lucas, who had been fuming moments ago, paused at her words.

"Wait," Irina spoke first, tilting her head. "You told your father?"

Lilia nodded. "Of course. It doesn't matter if there's no direct proof. This attack wasn't small. It wasn't just a brawl between students. It was a calculated ambush. Father isn't the kind of person to ignore something like that."

Lucas exhaled. "So, even if we can't pin this on Selene directly…"

Lilia smirked faintly. "Someone is still going to get punished."

Julia crossed her arms, considering. "If your father gets involved, things might escalate quickly."

Lilia's gaze darkened. "That's the point."

Ethan finally spoke, his voice quieter than before but still sharp. "And what exactly do you expect to happen now?"

Lilia exhaled, glancing toward the window, the campus bathed in the soft glow of night. She already knew.

"I assume," she said, her voice calm but certain, "that we'll be seeing some drastic changes very soon."

Chapter 929 - Aftermath (4)

The room settled into a tense silence, the weight of Lilia's words still hanging over them. Ethan leaned against the desk, arms crossed, his mind working through everything that had just been laid out. The attack on Lilia wasn't random. It was calculated, deliberate.

And now, with her father involved, things were about to escalate.

Julia was the first to break the silence. She turned toward Ethan, arms still crossed, but her sharp blue eyes flickered with something curious.

"Alright, we've got Lilia's situation covered for now," she said, tilting her head slightly. "Now tell us what happened to you."

Ethan exhaled slowly. He had been expecting this.

"It was a setup," he said simply.

Julia narrowed her eyes. "Explain."

Ethan ran a hand through his hair, pushing back the lingering frustration as he recalled everything from earlier. "It started after I left Jane's dorm. Senior student—Melanie—was waiting for me. She baited me into reacting, used an illusion, then had two sophomores jump me. When the academy stepped in, they had already recorded a cropped version of the fight that made it look like I attacked first."

The room went still.

Lucas frowned. "Melanie?"

Carl crossed his arms. "Don't know her."

Irina's golden eyes narrowed slightly. "I've heard the name in passing, but she's not someone who stands out. What's her deal?"

Ethan clenched his jaw. "She's been behind Jane's bullying for a while. Today, she made it clear that she hates her. And, apparently, she hates me too."

Julia frowned. "Because of Jane?"

"Because I don't play into their stupid hierarchy." Ethan scoffed. "Apparently, that pisses her off."

Lucas let out a low whistle. "So, let me get this straight. A senior baited you, started a fight, and then had evidence ready before the academy even showed up?"

"Yeah," Ethan muttered, the anger simmering beneath his voice. "And when we got to Eleanor's office, Grayson stepped in and shut everything down before I had a chance to fight back."

That got a reaction.

Lilia's crimson eyes sharpened. "Grayson?"

Ethan frowned, his frustration momentarily shifting to something more focused. "Grayson?" he repeated, his voice edged with curiosity. "What about him?"

Lilia let out a small, dry chuckle. The kind that wasn't out of amusement, but out of realization.

"What?" Julia narrowed her eyes. "What's so funny?"

The smirk on Lilia's lips wasn't one of humor. It was one of understanding. The final piece of the puzzle clicking into place.

"You guys really don't see it?" she mused, stretching slightly despite the stiffness in her limbs.

Carl crossed his arms. "If you've got something, say it."

Lilia exhaled, tilting her head. "Well, I guess I'm the only one here who actually bothered to look into the academy's faculty and their connections."

Ethan's gaze sharpened. "What do you mean?"

Lilia turned, resting her hands behind her on the desk, her crimson eyes gleaming. "Professor Grayson is affiliated with the Vargras family."

Silence.

Then, Lucas muttered, "Shit."

Julia's expression darkened instantly. "You're serious?"

Lilia nodded. "Dead serious. When I was looking into the backgrounds of certain people here, I came across his name. Didn't think much of it at first—lots of professors have political ties—but now?" She clicked her tongue. "Now it makes sense."

Ethan's grip on the edge of the desk tightened. His mind was already piecing things together, but with Vargras now in the equation, the situation had just escalated from an isolated academy dispute to something much, much bigger.

The Vargras family.

A name that carried weight—or at least, it used to.

Once, they had been a major force within the Central's Pentagon Alliance, a political powerhouse with influence spanning guilds, economic sectors, and military divisions. But that changed when the Pentagon Alliance ruled them out.

Stripped from their position.

Removed from Central's core governing forces.

And the one family that had played a key role in replacing them?

The Hartley family.

Ethan exhaled sharply, his mind racing.

"This just keeps getting worse," Julia muttered, rubbing her forehead.

Carl frowned, crossing his arms. "Vargras got kicked out of Central. They were humiliated. Of course, they've been angry about it. But what does that have to do with this?"

Lilia smirked faintly, but there was no amusement in her eyes. "Everything."

Lucas' gaze flicked between them, sharp with understanding. "If Grayson's tied to them, then he's not just protecting Melanie. He's protecting their interests."

Ethan's jaw clenched. "And if he's involved, then that means they have a senior backing them."

A silence stretched through the room.

Then, Lilia sighed, shaking her head. "You guys really haven't been paying attention, huh?"

Julia narrowed her eyes. "Lilia—"

"There's someone from Vargras in the academy."

The weight of her words settled instantly.

Ethan stiffened, his hazel eyes narrowing.

Carl frowned. "Who?"

Lilia tapped her fingers against the desk. "A senior. Leontius Vargras."

Ethan exhaled, recognition flashing through his mind.

Leontius.

A name that wasn't unfamiliar.

A top-ranking senior. Known for his ruthlessness in combat and his meticulous control over people. He wasn't loud. He wasn't flashy. But those who knew of him understood one thing.

He didn't waste time with people who had no use to him.

And if Melanie was working under him…

Ethan's gaze darkened.

"There's a high chance those seniors who set me up were working under him," he muttered.

Lucas let out a quiet curse. "So this wasn't just about Jane. Or about Melanie's personal grudges."

Julia's fists clenched. "They're making moves."

Carl's expression remained unreadable, but there was a sharp look in his eyes. "And if they're targeting you specifically, Ethan, then it's not just about the academy's internal politics."

Ethan exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening slightly against the desk. His mind churned, threading together too many pieces at once.

This wasn't just the academy's usual power plays.

His family—the Hartleys—were already in conflict outside these walls.

The Philips family.

A rival force, one that had been pushing against Hartley dominance in the past few months. Political maneuvering, resource struggles, open hostility in some cases. His father had been handling it, but the pressure was building.

And now, here at the academy?

The Vargras family—a family that had already lost its position in the Pentagon Alliance—was moving against him.

Ethan's hazel eyes darkened.

'This isn't just about the academy. This is bigger.'

What if the pressure outside was connected to what was happening here?

What if his family's enemies were starting to extend their reach?

A sharp wave of frustration settled in his chest.

If that was the case, then this was even worse than he thought.

Because right now?

He couldn't do anything about it.

He wasn't in a position to move.

Leontius Vargras wasn't some random bully. He was a senior. A top-ranked student, someone with influence, someone who had already embedded himself into the academy's structure.

If Ethan just went after him directly, he'd be the one to suffer for it.

His fists clenched.

That didn't mean he'd let it go.

But for now, he had to be smart.

He let out a breath, shaking his head slightly. "We can't act recklessly."

Lilia nodded, her expression calmer now, but still firm. "I know."

Julia, who had been gripping her arms tightly, exhaled sharply. "So, what? We just let this sit? We let them keep pulling strings while we wait?"

Ethan sighed. "We don't have a choice right now. Going after Leontius or Melanie directly isn't an option. Not unless we want to get shut down again."

Carl, who had been silent for a moment, finally spoke. "So we wait?"

Ethan glanced at him. "For now," he admitted.

There was a heavy pause.

Then, Lilia pushed herself off the desk, rolling her shoulders despite the soreness still lingering in her body. "Alright," she said. "We keep our heads down for now. Gather information. See how they move."

The group fell into a momentary silence. The tension was still thick in the air, but the decision had been made.

No reckless moves.

No direct attacks.

Not yet.

But when the time was right?

They wouldn't sit back.

Ethan pushed off the desk. "Alright. We'll leave it at that for now. Go get some rest."

The others nodded, and one by one, they started to disperse.

Lilia was the first to leave, shaking her head slightly but saying nothing as she stepped out. Lucas followed, his hands in his pockets, his thoughts clearly still racing.

Carl walked past Ethan, giving him a simple nod before heading out as well.

Julia lingered for a second, her blue eyes scanning Ethan's face. "Don't let them get to you," she muttered.

Ethan scoffed lightly. "Too late for that."

Chapter 930 - Aftermath (5)

Irina sat on a bench near the academy's training field, arms crossed, her golden eyes locked on the dimly lit pathways ahead. The night air was cool, crisp against her skin, but the restlessness inside her burned hotter than any chill could touch.

She was waiting.

Astron would be here soon.

But until then, her thoughts refused to stay still.

Ethan's words from earlier kept replaying in her head.

Leontius Vargras.

Melanie.

Grayson.

The Hawkins.

The Frostbornes.

Everything was spinning out of control.

And no matter how much she thought about it, no matter how many angles she tried to piece together, she couldn't find a clear way forward.

The Vargras family was moving.

The Hawkins family was already involved.

And now, the Frostbornes had aligned with them.

Irina clicked her tongue, frustration building in her chest.

What the hell was their endgame?

How far did this go?

She knew academy politics could get messy, but this wasn't just about power struggles between students anymore. This wasn't just about rivalries or influence—this had the makings of something much bigger.

The Vargras family had already lost their position in Central's Pentagon Alliance.

So why were they trying to make a move now?

Irina gritted her teeth.

Ethan's family—the Hartleys— had been dealing with pressure outside the academy for months now. Could it really be connected?

Was the academy becoming an extension of that fight?

Her fingers tapped against her gauntlet absentmindedly, small flickers of embers dancing along the metal surface.

She hated this feeling.

Irina exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing at the empty path ahead.

Something was brewing.

Something big.

And it wasn't good.

She could feel it creeping beneath the surface, the way things were shifting—subtle, but undeniable. The academy was always full of power plays and backroom deals, but this was different. It was bleeding beyond simple politics, stretching its roots into something bigger, deeper, more dangerous.

And she hated it.

She hated how it was disrupting everything.

For the first time in a while, she had actually been… content.

She had spent time with Astron, settled into a rhythm that felt right. No schemes, no manipulations, no constantly watching her back for the next move. Just… normalcy.

Now?

Now that peace was threatened.

It was annoying.

She clicked her tongue, scowling at nothing in particular.

Just as she was about to shift her thoughts, something covered her eyes.

Warm hands. Firm, steady.

She didn't move.

Normally, she would have reacted immediately, breaking free on instinct—because who the hell would dare to sneak up on her?

But this…

This was different.

Because there was only one person who could slip past her senses like this.

She sighed. "What are you doing?"

A familiar voice answered, calm and unreadable. "Isn't this what other people do?"

She blinked.

"…What?"

Astron didn't move his hands. "The game where people cover someone's eyes and guess who it is."

Irina scoffed, but there was a small twitch of amusement at the corner of her lips. "Astron. You're the only person who could do this. Who else would it be?"

He paused, as if actually thinking about it.

Then, after a second, he lowered his hands. "I see."

Irina rolled her eyes, but the tension in her chest eased just slightly.

Leave it to him to pull something so random in the middle of all this.

Irina exhaled, crossing her arms as she turned to face Astron properly. His calm presence was grounding, a quiet contrast to the storm of thoughts that had been circling in her head all day. For a moment, she just watched him, the dim glow of the lanterns catching the edges of his sharp features. Then, she finally asked,

"Did you hear what happened today?"

Astron didn't react immediately. He simply studied her, his unreadable purple eyes holding a quiet calculation before he finally spoke. "The spiked conflicts between sophomores and seniors?"

Irina clicked her tongue. "Yes. But that's not all."

She took a slow breath, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the weight of what she was about to say. Then, she told him everything.

Ethan's suspension. How Melanie had set him up, baited him into a fight, only for the entire thing to be twisted into making him look like the aggressor. How Grayson had stepped in—not just as a professor, but as someone clearly protecting specific interests, shutting down any chance for Ethan to defend himself.

And then Lilia.

The ambush. The fact that four seniors had attacked her under suspiciously convenient circumstances. The lack of security footage, the complete absence of witnesses. The way they didn't seem to want to beat her as much as send a message.

She watched Astron's expression carefully as she spoke, but, as expected, he didn't react much—at least, not outwardly. He simply listened, absorbing every detail, his posture still and composed. But she knew him.

And she could tell that behind that unshaken exterior, he was piecing everything together just as quickly as she had.

When she finished, she let out a slow exhale, running a hand through her hair. "It's all connected, Astron. First Hawkins. Now Vargras. And the Frostbornes? They've aligned themselves with them. This isn't just some random series of events—this is a move."

She leaned forward slightly, her golden eyes burning with frustration. "And I don't like not knowing what their endgame is."

The silence between them stretched, but it wasn't empty. It was calculated, measured, a pause filled with thoughts Astron was working through at his own pace. Then, finally, he spoke.

"You've already considered the possibility that this extends beyond the academy."

It wasn't a question.

Irina let out a sharp breath. "Of course I have. Ethan's family—the Hartleys—have been facing pressure outside the academy for months now. And Vargras? They lost their place in Central's Pentagon Alliance. They've been lying low ever since. But now?" She shook her head, her gaze dark. "Now they're acting. And the timing is too perfect to be a coincidence."

Irina let out a sharp exhale, tapping her fingers against her arm as she mulled over everything. She was pacing now, unable to sit still, the weight of the situation pressing into her mind like a puzzle missing too many pieces.

Finally, she stopped and turned to Astron, eyes searching his face. "What should I do?"

Astron was silent for a moment, his gaze steady and unreadable as always. She knew he wasn't the type to rush his words. When he spoke, it was because he had already thought things through, dissected the situation from angles she hadn't even considered yet.

"It is indeed not a coincidence," he said finally.

Irina narrowed her eyes. "You're sure."

"I am."

A flicker of frustration flashed through her. That confirmed it, then. This wasn't just paranoia—something was happening. And yet, knowing that didn't make her feel any better.

"Then—" she started, her mind already racing for the next step.

"But," Astron cut her off, his voice as steady as ever, "there is not much you can do, Irina."

She hated that answer.

Irina clicked her tongue, crossing her arms. "What do you mean there's not much I can do? We already know something is moving behind the scenes. Shouldn't we—"

"Move without understanding what we're moving toward?" Astron interjected smoothly. "That would be a mistake."

Irina scowled. She knew he was right. She hated that he was right.

"But sitting here and waiting isn't an option either," she argued.

"No, it isn't," Astron agreed. "Which is why, for now, focus on getting stronger."

Irina's fingers curled into fists. "That again?"

Astron watched her carefully, his gaze sharp yet calm, as if he already knew what she was thinking. Then, with his usual quiet precision, he spoke.

"You have already pinpointed some names, haven't you?"

Irina stilled for half a second, though she masked it well.

Of course, he would figure that out.

She rolled her shoulders, tilting her head slightly, feigning indifference. "Lilia did. She has already traced some of the ones involved."

Astron nodded, as if this was expected. "Then why are you hesitating?"

Irina scoffed, running a hand through her hair. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because the one pulling the strings is a senior? Maybe because we can't just clash with him outright?"

Astron simply looked at her, his expression unreadable.

"See. That is why," he said, his voice even.

Irina exhaled sharply. She hated how easily he cut through things, how he always had the right answer even when she didn't want to hear it.

Still, she said nothing, letting the weight of his words settle over her.

Astron continued, "I am sure tomorrow, things will change again already."

Irina narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"This place is an academy," Astron said smoothly. "And it is protected by the strongest humans. Therefore, they will not just watch everything unfold."

Irina tapped her fingers against her arm, considering. He had a point.

The academy wasn't just a battlefield for student politics. It was a prestigious institution, watched over by powerful figures—ones who wouldn't allow things to spiral completely out of control.

But the real question was: who would step in first?

Would it be the faculty?

Would it be the families pulling strings from behind the scenes?

Or would it be someone they hadn't accounted for yet?

Either way, Astron was right.

Chapter 931 - No title 

Irina let out a slow breath, feeling the tension that had been weighing her down since her conversation with Ethan finally ease.

It wasn't that everything was solved. It wasn't that the situation was suddenly less complicated. But somehow, after talking with Astron, after hearing his steady, unshaken perspective, she felt…

Refreshed.

Like her mind wasn't trapped in the endless cycle of frustration and uncertainty that had been annoying her all day.

She stretched her arms above her head, then—on impulse—stood up and started jumping in place, the sudden burst of movement shaking off the last remnants of that heavy, suffocating feeling.

Her lips curled into a grin as she turned to him.

"Ahhh, that feels better," she said, exhaling dramatically. Then, with an easy, genuine smile, she looked at him and said, "Thanks, Astron."

Astron simply nodded, accepting the gratitude without much reaction, but that was just how he was. He wouldn't say anything unnecessary. He didn't need to.

Still smiling, Irina leaned against him slightly, resting her weight against his side. It wasn't much, just a small shift, a quiet acknowledgment that she appreciated him being here.

"In things like this," she said, voice carrying just a trace of teasing, "you're quite manly."

Astron's mouth twitched at that.

Irina grinned, because oh, she saw that.

"You don't have to react," she mused, nudging him slightly. "But I saw that."

Astron exhaled slowly, as if already regretting letting that moment slip.

"…Your word choice is questionable," he said flatly.

Irina just laughed. "Hah! Just take the compliment, InfernoKnight."

Astron sighed, rubbing his temple. "Only this once."

"We'll see about that," she smirked, still leaning on him just a little longer than necessary.

*****

The classroom was already filled with chatter and speculation by the time Eleanor entered.

The air was thick with unease.

The news had already spread—though no official announcement had been made yet, the rumors of the headmaster's decision to suspend club activities and increase surveillance had reached the students.

Everyone expected Eleanor to clarify the situation.

What they didn't know was just how bad it was going to get.

As soon as Eleanor stepped into the room, the murmur of conversation immediately died.

Her sharp gaze swept over the cadets as she walked toward the podium. She said nothing at first.

That alone was enough to build tension.

Julia, ever one to break the silence, muttered under her breath, "Well, that's never a good sign."

Ethan gave her a look. "Shut up."

Eleanor set her tablet down on the desk, standing tall as she finally addressed the class.

"Listen carefully."

Her voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"This will not be a normal lecture."

The cadets straightened instinctively.

"There are new policies that have been enacted as of this morning." She didn't soften her words. "These changes will affect everyone in this academy."

She tapped on her tablet, sending a notification to every cadet's device.

A list of new regulations appeared on their screens.

Club activities are officially suspended indefinitely.

2. Increased surveillance will be enforced throughout the academy, including dormitory perimeters and common areas.

3. Unauthorized group gatherings of five or more will be flagged for review.

4. Additional faculty oversight will be assigned to monitor high-risk locations.

5. Disciplinary actions will be stricter for all cadets involved in altercations.

A wave of stunned silence fell over the class as they read the words on their screens.

Then—

The room erupted.

"Wait—WHAT?!"

"They're actually shutting down the clubs?!"

"This is insane—how are we supposed to—"

"Surveillance? Are they serious?"

Julia, not one to hold back her opinions, immediately slammed her hands onto her desk. "You've gotta be kidding me. They're treating us like prisoners now?"

Ethan, though less outwardly vocal, frowned deeply, his hazel eyes scanning the list again, as if hoping he had read it wrong. "They really went through with it…"

Lilia sighed, rubbing her temples. "I knew the tensions were bad, but I didn't think they'd go this far."

Irina, who had been silent until now, finally spoke—her tone calm, but laced with quiet frustration.

"Who decided this?"

Eleanor met her gaze without hesitation. "The Headmaster."

That sent another ripple of unease through the cadets.

They had all expected some kind of action to be taken after the escalating tensions between first-years and sophomores—but this?

This was far beyond what they had imagined.

Eleanor allowed the noise for a moment before raising her hand slightly.

The room fell silent again, though the tension was still palpable.

She exhaled slowly, before continuing.

"I know many of you are displeased by this decision. That does not change the fact that it has been made."

Her words were final.

But before the cadets could complain again, she added something unexpected.

"However."

That one word made them pause.

Eleanor's eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze sharper.

"This is not a punishment. It is a containment strategy. Whether you realize it or not, there is something pushing the first-year and sophomore divide further. The recent incidents have not been natural tensions—they have been deliberately provoked."

The class fell deathly quiet.

"You believe someone is orchestrating this."

Eleanor's expression did not change.

"I do not believe. I know."

The weight of her words sent chills down the spines of several cadets.

"That's insane. Why would anyone want to make the students turn on each other?"

Eleanor did not answer immediately.

Instead, she let the silence hang for a moment.

Then, she spoke, her tone deliberate.

"That is what we intend to find out."

The gravity of the situation sank in.

The cadets exchanged glances—some confused, some worried, some angry.

This wasn't just about discipline or new rules.

This was about something deeper.

Something manipulating the academy from within.

Eleanor let her words settle before continuing.

"Regardless of how you feel about these changes, they are in place for your own protection. The academy is not taking chances with this matter."

She glanced toward the class once more.

"Any further violations of conduct will result in immediate disciplinary action. If you are caught instigating conflict, there will be no leniency."

Eleanor stood straight, scanning the room one final time.

"You may voice your frustrations amongst yourselves," she said. "But do not waste my time with complaints. This decision is final."

A tense silence settled over the room.

The bell rang.

The class remained quiet as the students processed everything.

Finally, Eleanor spoke once more.

"Dismissed."

The atmosphere in the room was thick with unspoken tension.

They had all expected the academy to take action, but this?

The new policies weren't just restrictions—they were a warning. A message to every cadet that the academy wasn't going to allow this situation to spiral out of control. And yet, the unshakable feeling lingered in the air—this wasn't about discipline. This was about control.

Ethan leaned against the wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His ribs still ached from the earlier fight, but the pain wasn't what occupied his thoughts. Across from him, Julia sat on the edge of the table, her brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.

Lucas and Carl were seated next to each other, their expressions serious, though Lucas kept stealing glances at Lilia. She looked worse up close—pale, the bruises on her arms more visible under the dim lighting of the study room they had secured.

Irina stood by the door, her golden gaze sharp as ever, watching everyone.

No one spoke for a long moment.

Then—Julia broke the silence.

"Well, this is some next-level bullshit."

No one argued.

Julia sighed, rolling her shoulders as she leaned further against the desk. "You know, I'd love to join in the collective outrage, but honestly? This doesn't really hit me that hard."

Lucas glanced at her, eyebrows raising. "Really? No complaints? That's a first."

Julia waved a hand dismissively. "Most of the clubs were already a mess. The travel club was already on thin ice since last time. I barely had time for anything else. So, as far as I'm concerned, this whole club ban? Meh."

Lilia snorted. "You say that like you weren't the one crashing half the clubs for the snacks."

Julia grinned. "And? Just because I dined at different tables doesn't mean I was invested in the menu."

"Still," Carl muttered, rubbing his chin, "this whole situation isn't just about clubs. It's about control. The surveillance, the monitoring, the whole 'no unauthorized gatherings' thing—it's more than just containment. It's a leash."

"Exactly." Irina's golden eyes sharpened. "And the worst part? This isn't just a temporary measure. If they're going this far, it means they expect things to get worse."

Ethan, who had been silent throughout the conversation, finally spoke, his voice quieter than usual. "Yeah… worse."

Julia turned to him, catching the weight behind those words. She studied his expression—more withdrawn than usual, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Unlike her, the club suspension did affect him.

"You're thinking about the spear club," she said, not making it a question.

Ethan let out a slow breath, his grip tightening slightly. "I was looking forward to the interclub tournament. I trained for it. But now? Guess that doesn't matter anymore."

"Puhahaha…..must suck for you."

"Julia…"

"What? Mad?"

Chapter 932 - No title (2)

Ethan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "No, not mad," he muttered, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

Julia raised an eyebrow. "Oh? No sarcastic comeback? No dramatic sigh of despair? You feeling okay, Mountain Boy?"

Ethan let out a soft chuckle, finally unfolding his arms. "I mean, yeah, it sucks. But if the academy is cracking down this hard, it means they're taking things seriously. And that's… not exactly a bad thing."

Lucas glanced at him, tilting his head. "You're actually fine with this?"

Ethan pushed off the wall, rolling his shoulders. "Fine? Not really. But think about it—if clubs are out, then they're gonna push us harder in training instead. No more distractions, no more splitting focus between clubs and coursework." He crossed his arms again, this time with a slight smirk. "I wouldn't be surprised if they ramp up combat drills. Hell, maybe they'll even throw in a field training exercise."

Carl hummed in thought, nodding. "That actually makes sense. They need to keep us engaged, and without club activities, they're probably going to enforce more hands-on training."

Irina's gaze flickered with interest. "A field exercise wouldn't be a bad idea," she mused. "If they're serious about making us stronger, then they won't let us sit idle."

"True," Lilia added, though she groaned dramatically. "But that means more early morning drills, more evaluations, more ways for Eleanor to terrify us…"

Julia snorted. "Please. You thrive under pressure."

Lilia wiggled her fingers in mock horror. "Not that kind of pressure."

Ethan's smirk didn't fade. The disappointment of losing the tournament was still there, but something about the shift in academy policies left him… satisfied. If this was the academy's way of taking back control, then fine. It just meant they were stepping into a new phase.

One where things would be tougher. More grueling.

And if that was the case?

Then good.

Because Ethan was more than ready.

****

The sophomore classroom was already buzzing with agitation when Maya stepped inside. Conversations were heated, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface as cadets vented to one another about the newly enacted restrictions.

She had expected this.

The tension between the years had been rising for weeks, but now, with the academy's heavy-handed response, it was suffocating.

And she wasn't happy about it either.

Her expression remained composed as she took her seat, but inwardly, irritation curled beneath her skin like smoldering embers.

This was going to be a waste of time.

The professor entered, and the noise only grew louder.

"Alright," the instructor called out, setting a tablet down on the podium. "Settle down."

The class did not settle down.

"Professor, is this for real?!" one of the cadets near the front demanded, gripping the edge of his desk.

"Shutting down clubs is ridiculous," another snapped.

"You're treating us like criminals! We weren't the ones starting fights—"

"Then why are we the ones being punished?!"

Maya exhaled slowly through her nose as the protests swelled.

She wasn't going to argue on principle like the others, but she was irritated.

Because this meant that the History and Arts Club—the one place where she had a guaranteed, uninterrupted space with him—was gone.

The professor didn't raise his voice, but his next words cut through the chaos with sharp authority.

"Quiet."

The students grudgingly lowered their voices, but the tension still lingered, thick and oppressive.

Maya crossed her arms, her fingers tapping lightly against her sleeve as she listened.

"The new regulations are not open for negotiation," the professor said. "These decisions were made by the headmaster himself. If you have complaints, you can file an official appeal. But I warn you now—it won't change anything."

A murmur of discontent swept through the class.

Maya's lips pressed into a thin line.

"What a joke."

The voice in her head slithered into her thoughts, laced with contempt.

"They're acting like this is some strategic decision, but it's not. It's desperation. They don't know how to control the chaos, so they're tightening the leash on everyone."

Maya's nails lightly scraped against her sleeve.

She agreed.

Even without her other self voicing it, she had already come to that conclusion.

But that didn't change the reality of the situation.

She wouldn't be able to meet with Astron freely anymore.

And given how the divide between first-years and sophomores had escalated, approaching him outside of regulated areas would be difficult.

It was frustrating.

"What are you going to do about it?" her other self whispered, voice smooth but taunting. "Sit here like the rest of them and accept it?"

Maya remained silent.

But her fingers curled slightly into her sleeves.

The professor continued, oblivious to her thoughts. "Surveillance is being expanded across all dormitories and common areas. Group gatherings will be restricted to monitored locations. Any altercations between cadets will result in immediate disciplinary action."

Maya's jaw tightened.

"Tch."

A sharp noise of distaste echoed in her mind.

"They're boxing you in."

She knew.

"So much for 'control.' Now you'll be monitored like a caged animal. How does it feel?"

Maya exhaled sharply through her nose.

"You're awfully chatty today," she murmured internally.

"I don't like being restrained." A pause. Then, softer—more venomous. "And I don't like being kept away from him."

Maya exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the classroom, the murmured complaints of her classmates barely registering in her ears.

"I don't like being restrained."

Her other self's voice had softened, but there was something simmering beneath it—something deeper, more unsettling.

And yet, Maya wasn't repelled by it anymore.

Recently, they had been… understanding each other more.

She still disagreed with her, still fought for control when needed, but there was no longer that suffocating resistance that made her feel like she was drowning in a battle against herself.

It was different now.

The edges of their thoughts had started to blend.

Sometimes, Maya wasn't even sure who was responding first.

And that—that brought her to a different question.

Did I really like him, or was it because of her?

The thought struck her as she stared at the screen of her tablet, her fingers still curled into her sleeves.

Astron.

Whenever he crossed her mind, it was always with an intensity that felt unlike anything else in her life. The weight of his presence, the way his gaze lingered—how it both infuriated her and made her crave more.

Was that her?

Or was that her other self?

Maya's jaw clenched slightly.

The emotions she felt toward him—were they hers alone?

Or was she simply following the pull of something deeper, something not entirely her own?

"You're overthinking again," her other self murmured.

Maya didn't respond, but she could feel the knowing smirk in the back of her mind.

"It doesn't matter, does it?"

Maya shut her eyes for a brief second. "It should."

A soft laugh, dark and indulgent. "Then tell me—does it feel any different?"

Maya hesitated.

Did it?

Her fingers flexed.

Whether it was her feelings or her other self's…

In the end, the weight in her chest remained the same.

The same pull. The same unbearable need to see him, to be near him.

To confirm something—whether it was her own emotions or something else entirely.

But more than anything—

Her gaze flickered downward, then up again.

The redness in her vision was acting up.

Her irises pulsed faintly with that crimson hue, fading in and out as her thoughts spiraled.

Her breath shallowed.

Her other self sighed, "We need to see him soon."

Maya swallowed. "I know."

Because if this kept up…

If this hunger continued to coil inside her, pressing against the edges of her control—

She wasn't sure how much longer she could hold it back.

Chapter 933 - No title (3)

Maya sat at the edge of her bed, fingers tapping rhythmically against her thigh as she stared at her communicator. The dormitory was quiet—far too quiet. The usual bustle of cadets moving through the halls, the faint murmurs of conversations, and even the distant hum of the academy's activity had been swallowed by the newly imposed restrictions.

Everything felt suffocating.

She hated feeling boxed in.

Her crimson-tinted gaze flickered toward the window. Beyond it, the academy sprawled under the artificial night sky, the glow of security drones patrolling the perimeters a constant reminder that movement was being watched.

"You don't have much of a choice."

Her other self's voice was steady, calm in its certainty. "If you want to see him, it has to be here."

Maya exhaled through her nose. "I know."

It was a risk. Under normal circumstances, she would have arranged to meet him in neutral spaces—the training grounds, the secluded areas of the academy where eyes weren't constantly prying.

But those options were gone now.

The increased surveillance had made things complicated.

And she didn't have the luxury of waiting.

Her fingers hovered over the communicator before she finally pressed the call button.

It rang twice before he answered.

"…Senior?"

His voice was calm, as always, but there was a slight edge to it—curiosity, perhaps?

"We need to talk," she said, her tone direct, leaving no room for negotiation.

A brief pause.

"Now?"

"Yes."

She leaned back slightly, her fingers tightening around the device. "Come to my dormitory. It's the only place that isn't crawling with surveillance right now."

Another pause.

Then—

"Understood."

Maya didn't bother saying anything else. She ended the call, her grip loosening as she set the device down.

She exhaled, rolling her shoulders before standing.

Her hands twitched slightly at her sides, a telltale sign of her restlessness.

The redness in her vision hadn't faded.

And she had a feeling it wouldn't—not until he arrived.

"You feel it too, don't you?"

Her other self's voice was smooth, curling around her thoughts like silk. "The anticipation. The way your body reacts before your mind even processes it."

Maya didn't answer.

But she felt it.

A slow, creeping hunger that had nothing to do with food.

"He'll be here soon."

She turned toward the door, her crimson-tinged gaze sharpening.

"Yeah," she murmured.

And she wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not.

A soft knock echoed through the quiet dormitory.

Maya inhaled slowly, steadying herself before moving to the door.

Her fingers curled around the handle, and for a split second, she hesitated.

Then, she opened it.

Astron stood there, as composed as ever. His violet eyes, sharp and unyielding, met hers without hesitation. He didn't look the least bit concerned about being summoned so suddenly—if anything, he seemed mildly expectant.

"Senior."

His tone was polite, neutral.

But Maya…

Maya's breath hitched—so quietly, so imperceptibly that even she barely noticed it.

Had he always looked like this?

Of course, she had always been aware of his presence—how could she not be? But now, after some time apart, after the tensions in the academy had shifted, after everything… she found herself looking at him with fresh eyes.

The sharp contours of his face, the quiet confidence in his posture, the way his uniform fit against his frame.

He looks good.

Her fingers twitched at her side.

"He looks more than good."

Her other self purred in her mind, the voice curling through her thoughts with something dangerously close to satisfaction.

"Doesn't it make you want to sink your teeth into him?"

Maya stiffened.

She forced the thought away, suppressing the sudden spike of heat curling at the base of her spine.

No.

She wouldn't let that part of her take over—not now.

She forced herself to exhale, stepping slightly to the side. "Come in."

Astron didn't hesitate. He stepped inside, his movements deliberate as he glanced around her dormitory with a quick, assessing gaze. The first-ranked sophomore's living quarters were far more spacious than the standard dorms—private, quiet, and untouched by the academy's increased surveillance.

Safe.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Maya turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. She needed something—anything—to keep herself restrained.

Astron's eyes flickered to her briefly before settling, waiting.

He was waiting for her to speak.

Waiting for her to explain why she had called him here so suddenly.

Maya's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary.

The crimson in her eyes pulsed faintly.

She swallowed.

"I want him."

Her other self's voice was soft, indulgent, pressing into the edges of her restraint.

"You do too."

Maya clenched her jaw.

She knew Astron didn't want that.

She knew she had to control herself.

Maya turned away before she could linger on him any longer, striding toward the small lacquered table near the window. The dormitory's lighting was dim, casting a soft, golden glow over the polished wood and the carefully arranged tea set she had prepared beforehand.

"You must be thirsty," she said, reaching for the porcelain teapot. Her fingers moved with precision, pouring the dark amber liquid into a pair of matching cups. The scent of steeped herbs and faint traces of honey wafted into the air, filling the space between them.

Astron remained silent, watching as she set the cup in front of him. He didn't reach for it immediately.

Instead, his violet gaze flickered briefly over the arrangement—the simple plate of nut biscuits, the warm tea—before returning to her. There was no shift in his expression, but Maya knew he was assessing the situation as he always did.

"Sit," she said, more of an instruction than an invitation.

Astron complied, lowering himself onto the chair opposite hers with his usual composed grace. He picked up the tea, inhaling the steam lightly before taking a measured sip. His lips barely moved, but Maya caught the subtle way his posture relaxed just the slightest degree.

She took a seat as well, crossing her legs as she picked up her own cup. The warmth seeped into her palms, grounding her, but it did little to cool the restless energy simmering beneath her skin.

A moment of silence passed between them—tense, unspoken.

Then, Maya exhaled and finally asked, "How have things been for you?"

Astron glanced at her over the rim of his cup. "Unchanged."

Her fingers drummed lightly against the table. "Really?"

He placed the cup down, his expression unreadable. "I wasn't targeted this time. I was studying in my room."

Maya's gaze sharpened. There was something too precise about the way he said that.

Maya's fingers drummed lightly against the table, her gaze steady on Astron, though the irritation curling beneath her skin was harder to ignore now. His answer—It was a possibility—lingered in the air, cool and composed, just like him.

She inhaled slowly, trying to suppress the flicker of frustration burning beneath her ribs.

"He knew."

The voice in her mind curled around her thoughts, smooth and insidious. "He watched everything unfold from the sidelines, waiting, calculating. And what did you do?"

Maya exhaled sharply, forcing herself to take another sip of tea. The warmth didn't settle her, not when her mind was already tangled in too many conflicting emotions.

Maya sighed, setting her cup down with a quiet clink against the lacquered table.

She didn't speak immediately.

Instead, she stared at the dark amber liquid, watching as the ripples stilled into silence.

Astron didn't press her. He never did. He simply waited, sipping his tea, his gaze unreadable.

The room felt too quiet, too still.

And yet, her thoughts were anything but.

She had tried.

She had tried to control this mess.

To keep the Sophomore-Freshmen conflict from spiraling into chaos.

But it hadn't worked.

Even with her influence, even with how many people respected her, listened to her—they didn't listen to her this time.

The words echoed in her mind, the frustration clawing at her insides.

"Maya, it's different this time."

"You don't understand—they went too far."

"We can't just let them walk over us."

No matter what she said, no matter how she tried to push for control, the response had been the same.

It was always the same.

Maya closed her eyes briefly before exhaling another slow breath, her fingers curling slightly against her lap.

"They ignored you."

Her other self's voice was quiet, almost amused, yet there was an underlying sharpness to it.

"And you thought they wouldn't, didn't you? You thought they respected you enough to listen. But in the end… they're just following their emotions. And look where that's gotten them."

Maya didn't respond.

Because she knew it was true.

The freshmen had pushed too far. That was undeniable. But she had hoped—hoped that the sophomores wouldn't react the way they did.

That they wouldn't make things worse.

And yet, here they were.

Surveillance. Suspended clubs. Isolation.

It wasn't just about discipline anymore. The academy was tightening its grip, trying to smother the flames before they burned out of control.

And Maya?

She hated it.

She hated being restrained.

She hated that her words hadn't been enough.

And most of all—

She hated that she understood why they had ignored her.

Astron watched her carefully, the dim light casting sharp shadows over his features.

"You're frustrated."

Chapter 934 - No title (4)

"You're frustrated."

It wasn't a question.

Maya let out a quiet, breathy laugh, low and humorless. "That obvious?"

Astron set his cup down. "You tried to de-escalate, and they refused to listen."

Maya's gaze flickered toward him. He wasn't asking.

He already knew.

Of course, he knew.

"You let them do what they wanted instead," she murmured, her voice quiet, unreadable.

Astron didn't look away. "It was inevitable."

Inevitable.

Maya's fingers twitched.

There it was again—his distance.

That way he always spoke, as if he was watching everything from above, as if he wasn't a part of it but merely an observer.

"He didn't stop it either."

Her other self's voice curled at the edges of her thoughts, dark and laced with something close to satisfaction.

"You know that, right? He didn't stop it. Just like you couldn't."

Maya exhaled sharply. "You don't sound concerned."

Astron held her gaze, his violet eyes steady, unwavering.

"There are some things that are hard to control," he said, his voice even, calm. "One needs to accept that."

Maya's fingers stilled against her sleeve.

She looked at him then, truly looked at him, searching for something behind those detached, knowing words.

A quiet scoff left her lips, but it lacked real bite. "But you should do your best to control such things," she murmured. "Isn't that what you've said to me before?"

Astron didn't blink. "It is."

A pause.

"But sometimes, control is not an option," he continued. "And you just need to coexist with that fact."

Maya felt something settle deep in her chest—something heavy, something uncomfortable.

Because she knew exactly what he was implying.

It wasn't about the Sophomore-Freshmen conflict.

It was about her.

Her other self.

She had been trying. She had been trying so hard. She had spoken with her, acknowledged her, even started understanding her in ways she never thought she would.

And yet—

There was still a part of her that was scared.

A part of her that still resisted, that still feared what might happen if she let go completely.

And her other self knew.

"Hah."

The voice slithered through her mind, dark and amused. "What a sharp one, isn't he?"

Maya didn't move, but she could feel her other self curling around her thoughts, watching with something dangerously close to satisfaction.

"He sees through you, just like that. How fascinating."

Maya exhaled, barely above a whisper. "You think so?"

Her other self hummed in thought. "It's a rare thing, for someone to understand the things you refuse to admit to yourself. And yet, there he is, saying it like it's just simple fact."

A small smirk.

"How infuriatingly insightful of him."

Maya resisted the urge to sigh, rubbing her temple lightly before speaking.

"So, what?" she murmured. "You're saying I should just… let go?"

Astron tilted his head slightly, his gaze still steady. "I'm saying that fighting something that is inherently a part of you is a battle you can't win."

Maya felt her breath still.

He didn't phrase it as a warning.

He phrased it as a truth.

One that she wasn't sure she was ready to accept yet.

But her other self?

She laughed.

"Oh, I want him so much."

Maya's breath hitched.

It was happening again.

That slow, creeping hunger surged through her veins, pressing against the walls of her restraint like an unrelenting tide. Her fingers trembled slightly, curling into the fabric of her uniform as she fought the urge to move—to act.

Her breathing turned shallow, uneven.

The air in the room felt heavier, thick with something unseen.

"This is what you are."

Her other self's voice whispered through her thoughts, smooth and indulgent.

"You can suppress it, you can deny it, you can try to pretend it's not real—but we both know the truth, don't we?"

Maya clenched her teeth, her body stiffening as her vision pulsed with red.

No.

Not now.

Not in front of him.

Her breath shuddered as she tried to steady herself, but her lips parted before she could stop them.

"Junior…"

The word slipped past her throat, barely above a whisper.

Astron, still seated across from her, barely moved—but his violet gaze sharpened, locking onto her with quiet precision.

"Senior."

He received her words, unwavering.

She forced herself to look at him, forced herself to meet his gaze even as her body protested, as the gnawing hunger curled through her chest, demanding release.

"When we started this," Astron said, his voice as calm as ever, "what did I tell you?"

Maya didn't answer immediately.

Her hands tightened against her lap, her breath uneven.

What did he say?

What were his words?

And then—

She remembered.

"I will be there for your secret."

Maya's vision flickered.

Astron hadn't just been speaking empty reassurances.

He had always known.

From the moment she first confided in him, from the moment she let him see even a fraction of what lurked beneath the surface, he had known that this moment would come.

He wasn't afraid.

And that terrified her more than anything.

Slowly, deliberately, Astron lifted his hand, palm open, fingers extended toward her.

"Let me talk to her."

Maya's breath caught in her throat.

She knew what he meant.

He wasn't asking for an explanation.

He wasn't demanding control.

He was offering something far more dangerous.

Access.

Maya stared at him, her fingers twitching at her sides.

Her other self stilled.

And then—

A slow, sultry laugh curled through Maya's mind.

A slow, sultry laugh curled through Maya's mind.

But beneath it—

Maya could feel it.

The tremor in her other self's voice.

The barely-contained, shuddering anticipation.

"Finally."

It was a whisper, yet it resonated through her bones, curling around her thoughts like smoke, thick and intoxicating.

"He finally sees me… finally."

Maya's breath stilled.

She could feel the shift.

Her other self—who had always spoken with confidence, with hunger, with twisted amusement—was trembling.

Not from fear.

But from something far more dangerous.

Raw, consuming obsession.

Maya's grip tightened on her lap as her heartbeat pounded against her ribs.

This was the moment her other self had been waiting for.

For so long, she had been ignored, buried beneath Maya's control, only allowed to whisper from the corners of her mind.

But now—

Astron had acknowledged her.

Had spoken to her.

Had reached out for her.

And that alone shattered the fragile balance Maya had been maintaining.

A sharp, breathy inhale.

Her vision flickered—red, deep and overwhelming, flooding her senses.

The hunger that had been simmering beneath her skin erupted, demanding.

Maya's body tensed violently, her nails digging into her palms as she fought it, fought her.

"Oh, you shouldn't fight me right now, Maya."

Her other self's voice was strained, yet filled with something utterly euphoric.

"This is my moment."

A sharp, aching pulse spread through Maya's chest, her control slipping—slipping too fast.

She squeezed her eyes shut. No. Not here. Not in front of him.

But it was too late.

Her breath hitched. Her fingers trembled.

And then—

Maya's lips moved.

But it wasn't her voice that spoke.

"Finally."

It was softer, breathier.

Different.

Astron's expression remained steady, but his violet eyes sharpened.

His extended hand remained firm, unwavering.

"You are here."