Pamela handed a clean white towel to Vera as she walked down from the arena.
"You got a scratch on your face," Pamela said.
Vera took the towel and wiped her cheek slowly. A thin streak of blood stained the white cloth. She stopped and looked at it for a moment, eyes calm, as if it didn't belong to her.
"Huh. There's blood," she said flatly.
She tilted her head and let out a small laugh. "Guess I should've moved a bit quicker."
"Lady Vera!"
Nina rushed over, clutching a first-aid kit tightly against her chest. Zack and Gena followed behind her, their steps hurried.
Vera glanced at them and smiled. "Oh? Nina and friends." She leaned slightly to the side, tapping her chin with one finger. "So, how are my winnings from the bets looking?" Her eyes drifted away as if already bored. "Maybe I should've let her win. The number of points I got from this isn't very satisfying."
She clicked her tongue softly.
"Lady Vera, you should worry about your injury more than points," Nina said, already opening the kit.
She soaked a cotton ball with disinfectant and gently pressed it against the scratch. Vera didn't react. Nina then placed a plaster over it, hands careful, almost reverent.
"Huh?" Vera looked down at her. "You're overreacting, my cute little follower."
She reached out and rubbed Nina's hair, smiling faintly.
Then her eyes shifted.
They landed on Gena.
The look was brief, sharp, and unreadable.
Gena stiffened. Her shoulders tensed, and she took a small step back without realizing it. Then she nodded once.
She understood.
Vera's lips curved slightly, pleased.
She turned her attention back to Pamela. "Pamela, didn't you say you weren't coming to watch?"
Her eyes narrowed playfully. "Did you miss your mummy?" She leaned closer. "Of course, you did."
Pamela's face heated up. "Who is mummy?" she asked quickly.
Vera answered without missing a beat, her expression suddenly serious. "Me."
Pamela clenched her fists and growled under her breath, turning away in frustration as Vera watched, amused.
At the back of the hall, Felix stood with Gareth, Page, Lyra, Freed, and the rest of his group. They didn't move forward like the others. They stayed where the shadows were thicker, watching the aftermath of the fight in silence.
Felix sat in the middle. Gareth stood to his left, arms crossed, posture straight. Lyra sat to his right with her legs folded, her shoulders tense. Behind them, Page sat on a low bench, resting her legs on another bench that had been dragged close by the others who joined the group.
"Scary…" Lyra muttered. She hugged her arms and shivered slightly.
"That's Lady Vera for you," Gareth replied. His eyes were fixed on the arena, a clear trace of admiration on his face. "That level of control is rare."
"She did get cocky at one point," Page scoffed. She waved her hand in irritation. "If it were me, that scratch would've been the end of her."
"You wouldn't even get the chance," Freed said, laughing loudly. "She'd end you before you even thought about poisoning her. Hahaha."
Page snapped her head toward him. "Huh?"
She dropped her legs from the bench. The bench she had been leaning against lost balance and fell backward with a dull thud.
"Tsk." She stood up sharply. "Do you think I'd lose badly like that idiot?"
She turned and glared at one of the boys nearby. "Matthey! What do you think?"
Her eyes were cold.
Matthey jumped as if struck by lightning. "Y-Yes, Lady Page!" His face turned pale, like he had just seen a ghost. "W-Well, I…"
"Fool!" Freed cut him off, glaring hard. "Do you want to indulge Page in her fantasy?"
Matthey's body stiffened. His hands trembled at his sides.
What am I supposed to say…?
His legs shook under the pressure of both their gazes.
Somebody help me…
"Enough."
Felix's voice was calm, but it cut through the tension like a blade.
Page and Freed both clicked their tongues and turned away.
"Page," Felix said coldly, not even looking at her, "watch your mouth when you brag."
He paused, then let out a slow breath.
"I didn't add you to my group so you could create unnecessary enemies," he continued. "Especially not someone as dangerous as Vera."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Right now, I'd rather face Veda than have Vera targeting me."
"Tsk… fine," Page hissed, turning her face away.
Felix stood up.
"Let's go," he said.
He adjusted his coat and began walking out of the arena. "We have a lot to prepare for."
Without another word, the group followed him, leaving the noise of the crowd behind.
Others began to leave the arena, their voices fading as they returned to their daily routines. Ezra followed Veda and his group down the corridor, the sound of boots and shoes echoing against the stone floor. They entered a classroom tucked away from the main halls. Only members of Veda's group were inside.
The door closed behind them.
"Guys."
Veda clapped his hands once. The sharp sound snapped everyone's attention toward him.
"Oh…Sir Veda is back."
The scattered conversations stopped. Chairs shifted. Backs straightened.
Ezra stepped to Veda's side, feeling several eyes settle on him at once.
"This," Veda said, smiling lightly, "is the person I told you about. He'll be a big help in our conflict with Felix…and in surviving the next trial."
Linda let out a quiet chuckle, not bothering to hide it.
The room went still. Every gaze pressed down on Ezra, heavy and sharp.
"N-Nice to meet you all," Ezra said, lifting his hand in a small wave.
His smile stayed, but it felt stiff.
So this is what hostility feels like when it has a shape.
"Linda," a boy at the front asked, arms folded, brows drawn together, "is this really the guy?"
"Don't ask me, Nickolas," Linda replied quickly. "Ask Veda."
Low murmurs spread across the room. The same words, the same doubts, rising again like smoke. The highlines were the loudest. Their eyes carried irritation; envy barely hidden. A lowline ranked above them was something they couldn't accept.
Some of the lowlines looked at Ezra differently—curious, maybe even hopeful—but they stayed silent. No one wanted to stand out.
"I'm not here to argue about whether I'm strong or not."
Ezra's voice cut through the noise.
The murmurs stopped.
"I joined because I trust Veda," he continued, his tone calm but cold, "not you hand-lickers."
The room exploded with anger.
"Huh?"
A girl with long brown hair stepped forward. Her black eyes burned as they locked onto Ezra.
"Just because you ranked seventeenth," she sneered, "you think you're special? Hahaha."
She leaned closer. "You're still a lowline. Know your place."
Laughter followed her words, sharp and mocking.
"Place?"
Ezra repeated softly.
His voice was deeper than before.
The laughter died.
The air in the room felt heavier, like something unseen pressed down on everyone's chest. Even Veda turned to look at him, unsure.
Ezra's eyes darkened as he scanned the room. He didn't raise his voice, but every word carried weight.
"Since when did this Trial become a playground for highlines?" he asked. "Is it because no one died during the third trial? Because Veda kept everyone alive?"
He shook his head slowly.
"Or…" He lifted his hand and pointed at Linda. "Should I challenge you?"
Linda took a step back before she realized it.
Why am I scared?
Her body trembled slightly.
Ezra walked toward her. One step. Then another.
"What?" he asked quietly. "Scared?"
He stopped right in front of her.
She couldn't look at him. Her eyes refused to rise.
Clap!
Veda clapped his hands once.
The pressure vanished like mist under sunlight. The room breathed again.
"That was a cool way to introduce yourself, Ezra," Veda said with a grin, slapping him on the back.
Ezra blinked, confused. "Huh…?"
A dull ache throbbed in his head, but he ignored it.
"I need to go," he said.
"Alright," Veda replied, waving him off.
As Ezra left the classroom, Veda let out a long sigh. His group did the same.
But…
Sir Veda and the new guy are both cool.
The thought echoed through the room. Several hands clenched unconsciously, teeth grinding as the same feeling settled in their chests.
Ezra entered his new room.
It was different from the last one. The bed was wider. Two windows let in fresh air, pushing out the stale smell. There was even a private bathroom and toilet.
He turned the tap.
Cold water splashed against his hand.
"…There's no water heater," he groaned.
He rubbed his arms, shivering slightly.
"I still have to manage cold water for now."
He sighed. "Only God knows how I haven't frozen to death already."
Ezra sat on the bed. His mind drifted back to Vera's fight with Priscilla. To the way she moved. To the things Gena had told him about Pamela training even harder.
"With the competition getting worse," he muttered, "I'll need seclusion to properly understand my Alchemy strategy."
He paused.
"But before that… I should give Gena a proper training schedule."
He sighed again.
"So much to do just to survive."
Ezra stood up and left the room.