Chapter 16
The creature's roar shook the farmhouse walls as it stepped out of the shadows—taller than a man, its outline rippling like smoke trying to hold a shape. Two burning eyes locked onto the three of them.
"Level Two," Mark muttered, shoulders squaring. "Fast, stronger than the usual trash. Stay behind me, Ethan."
Before Mark could move, William slid a step forward, one hand on his sword hilt.
"Let me take this one," he said, voice calm but carrying weight. "I've been itching for a proper field test."
Mark's eyes stayed on the ghost for a long breath, jaw tight. He was the senior hunter here—the one who usually called the shots—and Ethan caught the flicker of calculation in his face. Finally, Mark gave a short nod.
"Fine. But don't play around."
"Wouldn't dream of it," William said, though the corner of his mouth hinted otherwise.
William had already stepped forward, one hand resting lazily on the hilt of his sword as though he'd been waiting for a worthy distraction. The wind caught his dark coat, making him look like the only thing standing between the farmhouse and the ghost.
The creature lowered its head and hissed, its eyes two molten pits in the dark. It lunged again—but this time, it didn't reach Mark or Ethan.
A streak of silver light flashed; William was there, blade raised just enough to let the beast's claws glance off it. The impact cracked like a gunshot. The ghost reeled back, shaking its wounded paw, smoke hissing out where the blade had kissed it.
"Not bad," William murmured, almost sounding bored. "Let's see what you've got."
Ethan stared. There was no panic, no wasted motion—just an easy grace that made it clear William wasn't fighting to survive. He was… measuring the thing.
Mark, noticing Ethan's look, said quietly, "He's testing it. Don't blink."
The Ghost roared and charged again. William pivoted, slashing across its chest in a clean arc. A faint, sizzling glow trailed after the strike before fading. The ghost staggered, then sprang forward harder, maddened now.
Ethan's fingers clenched at his sides. "He's barely trying. Is that—normal?"
"Normal for him." Mark's eyes didn't leave the fight. "There are two people you shouldn't bother comparing yourself to at Arcanis. He's one of them."
The beast swung a massive claw; William ducked under it like water slipping past a rock, striking twice more before retreating a few steps. The air hummed where the blade had passed.
Then William's tone shifted—still light, but edged with resolve. "Alright. Playtime's over."
He drew a slow breath, feet settling into a wider stance. The night around him seemed to tighten. Faint sigils shimmered along his sword's edge, pulsing once as though catching the moonlight.
"Light Magic…" His voice was almost casual. "…Charging Flash."
Nothing obvious happened.
Ethan frowned. "Did he just—"
The ghost convulsed. Five thin lines of white fire burst open across its chest and shoulders, as if they'd been waiting under the skin for permission to ignite. For a heartbeat the creature stood frozen—then its entire upper body erupted in a blast of searing light. The shockwave rattled the rotting fence posts around the field.
When the flare died down, the beast lay in a heap of dissipating smoke, its body already breaking apart into black ash.
William flicked his blade once, sending the last sparks scattering. "That's that," he said, as though he'd just swatted an annoying insect.
Ethan exhaled shakily. "Sure. No big deal. Just carved it up like a five-course meal."
William sheathed his sword with a faint smirk. "Guess Zoltan isn't the only one who gets to take solo missions."
Mark stepped forward, scanning the farmhouse and surrounding field with a practiced eye. "Clear. No residual energy left."
William glanced back at them. "Good. Means we can wrap up early. Casino later?" The teasing lilt in his voice earned him a disapproving look from Mark.
Ethan shook his head in disbelief. "Priorities."
Mark only sighed and moved to scan the farmhouse for lingering traces of ghost energy. "Clear," he said at last.
The three started down the gravel road toward their waiting ride, the farmhouse shrinking behind them in the dusk. Crickets filled the silence.
Ethan finally asked the question gnawing at him. "So… what's with those two? William and Zoltan. They act like rivals who've been at each other's throats for years."
Mark's gaze stayed on the road ahead. "Last year, what started as an ordinary spar between them… got heated. Escalated into a real battle."
Ethan frowned. "William won, right?"
For the first time that night, Mark's expression shifted—something almost wary in his eyes. He looked away.
"Barely."
The word hit harder than Ethan expected. He opened his mouth to press, but headlights crested the hill ahead. William caught up to them, smirking about beating traffic, and the moment slipped away as the van rolled to a stop in front of them.
A week slipped by after the farmhouse mission, the memory of William's dazzling white slashes still lingering in Ethan's mind.
Unfortunately, the only things dazzling him now were the sunlight bouncing off the classroom windows and the endless chalk-scribbles of rune equations.
He slouched in his seat, chin propped on one hand. "You'd think by now I'd be used to this," he muttered.
Across the aisle, Luna didn't look up from her notes. "You'll survive it."
"Survive what? The part where they expect us to memorize runic sequences and learn how to save the world? That's two jobs for the price of one tuition."
Luna's lips curved, though her eyes stayed on the page. "I don't really question it. We do what we have to."
Ethan sighed as the instructor droned on about spectral ley-points. He traced an idle doodle on the edge of his parchment. Fighting ghosts I can handle.Homework? Unfair.
When the bell finally released them, Luna stood, brushing chalk dust from her sleeve. "Come on. If you dawdle, you'll miss sparring day."
"Sparring day," Ethan echoed, deadpan. "Because nothing says 'study break' like getting punched in the face."
The training courts stretched wide under a mild afternoon sun, rings of sparring students scattered from one end to the other. First-years faced each other in cautious bursts of magic; older years traded heavier blows that cracked against rune-reinforced tiles.
It was noisy—shouts of encouragement, bursts of light, the occasional groan of someone hitting the mat too hard.
Ethan stood with his usual crew at the edge of a sparring ring, arms folded as he watched two classmates stumble through a clumsy exchange of shield charms. "Feels less like a battlefield, more like gym class," he said.
"Gym class where you can get set on fire," Luna replied, tying her hair back before stepping aside to give others space.
Not far from them, a lone figure cut through one opponent after another as though he were bored of the whole ordeal. Sebastian, a second-year in the Top Seven, fought with a loose, almost lazy grace—dodging attacks without breaking a sweat, countering with casual blocks.
A first-year boy collapsed at Sebastian's feet, coughing from the last hit. Sebastian looked down at him with a sigh.
"Is that really all you've got? This is getting depressing."
He turned away, already calling for the next challenger. His tone carried loud enough for nearby students to hear:
"Honestly, I expected at least one of you to give me a reason to try. But you're all just background characters."
A ripple of laughter and embarrassed murmurs ran through the watching crowd.
Ethan felt his jaw tighten. Beside him, Luna muttered, "Ignore him. He's trying to rile everyone up."
Freddie kept at his own drills with single-minded focus, not sparing Sebastian a glance. "Waste of energy," he said under his breath.
But Sage… Sage's eyes sharpened at the taunt.
She stepped forward, brushing the dust off her palms. "If you're so bored, why don't you fight someone worth your time?"
Sebastian's brow lifted in mild surprise as he turned to face her. "Worth my time? You're just another supporting character I'll have to put in their place."
A few students nearby sucked in sharp breaths; the tension crackled immediately.
Ethan blinked. "She's really challenging a Top Seven?"
Luna sighed, already regretting it. "She's really challenging a Top Seven."
Sebastian's smirk deepened as he stepped into the center ring, tilting his head. "Alright then. Show me you're different."
Sage squared up, shoulders loose but her expression set with quiet resolve.
The crowd circled tighter around them, sensing a fight that might actually be worth watching.