Aria turned her head slowly, dangerously, toward Elion. "You were worried about what?" she asked, her voice icy.
Elion felt sweat trickle down his spine.
Mira, sensing the hostile tension, leaned closer, much closer, her shoulder now fully touching his. "Thank you," she whispered.
Aria's eye twitched. Behind them, students were eating the scene up like popcorn.
One girl whispered loudly to her friend: "This is better than those romance novels my mom reads."
Another guy muttered: "Bro's living a death-flag harem dream." Elion wanted to die on the spot.
Mira straightened, brushing her hair back. "Anyway… I'm glad you're okay, Elion. That's all." She paused.
Then the faintest smile tugged at her lips. "And if William ever bothers you again… let me know. I'll deal with him."
Aria slammed her hands onto her desk and stood up so fast her chair screeched across the floor. "You will not deal with him," she snapped.
Mira lifted an eyebrow. "And why not?"
"Because," Aria said, stepping between them, "Elion doesn't need you protecting him."
A hush fell across the entire class.
Mira stood too, her eyes cool. "Really? Because he seemed perfectly fine being with me the last time I saw him."
Aria's face went red. "…You—!"
Elion jumped up between them before Aria lunged or Mira stabbed her with a hairpin.
"H-Hey, hey! No fighting! George is still in the hallway!"
Aria glared at Mira. Mira glared back.
The atmosphere crackled.
And Elion…stood trapped between them like a man standing on a tightrope over a pit of mana beasts.
"Why are you sitting so close to him?" Aria snapped under her breath.
Mira tilted her head slightly. "Why shouldn't I? We're classmates, aren't we?"
"You were never interested in him before."
Mira smiled faintly. "People change."
Aria looked ready to leap across Elion's desk and start a war.
William, sitting stiffly two rows down, watched the entire scene with a fiery glare.
His jaw clenched.
His fingers dug into his desk.
Every time Mira glanced Elion's way, his expression darkened.
Every time Aria leaned closer to Elion, his eye twitched.
Mira, sensing William's gaze, glanced at him, then casually leaned even closer to Elion.
Aria almost exploded.
Okay. This was war now.
Elion was about to intervene again when a loud commotion erupted near the classroom doors.
Students parted like water, whispers turning into gasps.
Elion's heart jumped into his throat when he saw the unmistakable raven-black hair.
Celeste.
She stepped into the lecture hall with the calm, heavy presence of someone who didn't need to threaten anyone.
Her boots clicked crisply on the floor as the sea of students instinctively made way for her.
The temperature of the room seemed to drop.
William visibly paled.
The humiliation he had delivered to him still lingered like a fresh bruise, and Celeste's appearance made him remember the scenes vividly.
Celeste reached the podium and lifted a hand in a lazy gesture.
Her crimson eyes settled on the two boys. "William Dawncrest. Elion Nova." Her voice left no room for argument. "Get up. With me. Now."
The class held its breath.
Elion turned to Mira and Aria with an apologetic half-smile. "Sorry, ladies. We'll… talk later."
Aria frowned but nodded stiffly.
Mira looked mildly disappointed, then shot Aria a little smirk.
He could only hope that they wouldn't tear each other apart while he was away.
Elion hurried down the stairs.
William followed, shooting daggers at him the whole way.
Celeste didn't look back.
She simply turned and walked out.
Tok. Tok. Tok.
Her heels echoed down the empty hallway, her pace unhurried but absolute.
The two guys followed like condemned prisoners.
No one spoke.
They turned a corner into a quieter wing of the building, took an elevator, and ascended, past the first-year floor, past the second, past the third.
Elion swallowed.
Fourth floor.
The divide.
Where the atmosphere felt heavier, sharper, colder.
Where only upper-years walked, some glancing at them without recognition or interest.
Not hostility.
Just indifference.
The walls here were a calm, ashy grey, but the mana in the air felt denser. Stronger.
Celeste continued forward, leading them through another corridor, up a narrow flight of stairs, and to a sleek black door.
She pushed it open.
HISSS—
A powerful wave of pressure washed over them.
Elion's breath caught.
His knees almost buckled.
William gritted his teeth, visibly struggling to stay on his feet.
The room was luxurious, with polished black marble floors, silver-veined pillars, and mana crystals built into the ceiling like glowing constellations.
An oval obsidian table dominated the center.
Three people sat around it.
The first: A familiar pink-haired woman, Liora, happily sucking on a lollipop and waving excitedly at Elion the moment their eyes met.
The second: A dark elf male, lean and sharp, dressed in a crimson-lined uniform, signifying he was a third-year.
His eyes glowed faintly, studying the boys with detached interest.
And the third…
Elion froze.
Sitting at the head of the table was someone who radiated power so refined, so suffocating, it didn't feel human.
Yet he was. Perfectly human.
His uniform was black, darker than the shadows in the room, embroidered not in gold, but in intricate threads of black that shimmered subtly when he moved.
A single phoenix crest rested on his chest, minimalist yet more authoritative than the dozens decorating lower-year uniforms.
He didn't look old, maybe nineteen or twenties? But his presence felt like a mountain. Like an entire battlefield compressed into a single person.
An upper-year.
A true one.
Celeste took her seat beside Liora as if the crushing aura didn't exist.
Elion and William remained standing before the table, rigid and pale.
The black-uniformed upper-year finally spoke, eyes never leaving the two boys.
"Celeste," he said calmly, "thank you for bringing our 'guests'."
Celeste gave a short hum of displeasure, as if she'd been forced to do a chore she didn't like.
And that's when Elion realized, they weren't here for punishment.
They were here for something much, much bigger.