After the final duels, the updated ranks were posted.
I'd climbed from being a complete unknown to Rank 20… and now, I stood as the second-ranked student.
The rise felt surreal—like I'd sprinted up a staircase I hadn't realized I was climbing—but it also felt earned. Every scar, every near-defeat, had led here.
We were told we'd be changing dorms again. Today was ours to pack and rest; by tomorrow morning, we'd move.
As I left the stadium, I sent a message to Lina. She replied quickly, asking me to meet her at the library.
On my way there, I ran into Miles, Douglas, and Liam. Miles grinned wide when he saw me, throwing an arm over my shoulder.
"Rank two! Man, you're ridiculous. Did you bribe the instructors or something?"
"Guess I just worked harder than you," I said, smirking.
Liam chuckled and clapped me on the back—gently, thankfully. "Don't let it get to your head, Laurel."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"We're heading to dinner to celebrate," Miles offered. "Come join us?"
I hesitated for a moment, then smiled. "Thanks, but I already made plans."
They nodded in understanding, and we went our separate ways.
At the library, I found my way to the assistants' room. Inside, I froze.
A bowl of fruit, a plate of sandwiches, a pitcher of juice, and even chips with dip were neatly arranged across the table. It wasn't extravagant, but it felt personal.
Lina was unpacking a few plates from a small basket. I stepped forward to help, and once we finished setting the table, I asked,
"So… what did you think of my last match?"
She glanced up, her bangs still veiling her eyes as always. "You did well," she said simply. "But your final move? It was reckless. Effective—but reckless. Just because healers are around doesn't mean you can risk your own body like that."
Her tone wasn't harsh—more like an older sister who cared enough to scold. It reminded me of my mother: quiet disappointment that hit harder than shouting ever could.
I looked down, then nodded. "You're right. I'll do better next time—to win without breaking myself first."
She leaned back, her expression softening. "Your dagger work is impressive. Especially your transitions between Veiled Stride and melee. But eventually, you'll face someone who can't be caught off guard. You'll need a style that works head-on."
"I'll keep that in mind," I said. "Any recommendations?"
"I'll look into it. Most offensive arts aren't designed for dagger users—but there might be something buried in the archives."
"Thanks," I said, smiling. "You always seem to know where to look."
Her lips curved faintly. "Occupational hazard."
We ate together in comfortable silence for a while. The sandwiches were rich and well-seasoned, and the juice was perfectly chilled.
"This is really good," I said, impressed.
"Not bad for a humble library picnic," she replied.
The conversation drifted toward electives.
"I started blacksmithing," she mentioned between bites. "It's… harder than I thought."
"I'd probably melt the table before the metal," I admitted.
A quiet laugh escaped her. "So, no blacksmithing practice as a bonding activity, then?"
"Not unless you like fire hazards," I said.
Her smile lingered longer this time, small but genuine.
After a pause, I found myself asking, "Hey… can I ask you something?"
She tilted her head slightly. "Go ahead."
"Why do you always keep your bangs over your eyes? Doesn't it get in the way?"
Her hand brushed lightly against her fringe. "Not really. I can see just fine with them," she said. "There wouldn't be much difference without them—but I suppose I just like my hair this way."
"I see," I said quietly. "Still… I'd like to see your eyes someday."
She hesitated, then met my gaze through the soft veil of hair. "One day, maybe."
For a fleeting second, I caught a hint of grey beneath the shadow—mist-grey, a strange, almost ethereal hue that seemed to swallow light rather than reflect it. On Earth, it would've looked unnatural, but here on Astra, such quirks were often the mark of awakened bloodlines.
She looked away first, setting down her cup. "By the way… why didn't you challenge Raul Desmond? You had the chance."
I leaned back, exhaling. "Partly because of the spear. The same one he used to pierce me and Liam."
Her brows lifted slightly.
"But mostly," I continued, "after watching his match with Nadia, I wasn't sure he could match that level of control. He's strong, but skill… that's something else entirely. Facing him then wouldn't have proven anything."
"That's a practical answer," she said softly. "Still… I think you would've won."
"Maybe," I replied. "But I'd rather be sure next time."
We finished our meal with quiet conversation that felt… easy. The kind of silence that didn't need to be filled.
When it was time to leave, we packed up the basket and walked back toward the dorms. At the entrance, she paused.
"Don't overtrain tonight," she said gently. "You've earned some rest."
"I'll try," I said with a faint smile.
As she turned away, her hair swayed just enough for me to glimpse that faint mist-grey again—beautiful in a way that words couldn't quite catch.
Back in my room, packing didn't take long. I didn't own much. Within an hour, everything was sealed and ready.
Tomorrow, I'd move to the Ivy Dorms.
Another step forward.
For now, I let the quiet settle in—and allowed myself a rare moment of peace.