The courtyard of Xyrus Academy still smoked when the Lances descended.
Their arrival pressed against the air itself — mana so dense it felt like gravity had increased without warning. Students fell silent. Even the faculty stepped back instinctively.
Arthur stood restrained in bindings of light, wrists locked behind him by a spell only a Lance could cast without effort. His face was calm, but tension coiled beneath the surface.
Lucas Wykes' body lay broken nearby.
The accusation of treason hung thick in the air.
Cael stood off to the side, watching.
Observing.
Lance Varay's expression was cold and unreadable. Aya stood silent. Bairon Wykes — lightning crackling faintly along his armor — stared at Arthur with barely restrained fury.
His brother lay dead at Arthur's feet.
And grief, when paired with power, was volatile.
"We will be taking him into custody," Bairon said, voice carrying effortlessly across the ruined courtyard.
Arthur didn't resist.
That annoyed Cael.
Not because Arthur couldn't fight.
But because he wouldn't.
Because this was necessary.
Because politics demanded it.
Because history demanded it.
Cael tilted his head slightly.
How strong are they really?
His eyes shifted toward Bairon.
White core.
Lightning deviant.
One of Dicathen's strongest.
His lips curved faintly.
Curiosity won.
"Hey."
The single word cut through the silence.
Several heads turned.
Bairon's gaze slid toward him slowly.
Cael stepped forward, boots crunching over shattered marble.
"You're not actually going to blame him for this, are you?" Cael asked lightly, glancing at Arthur before looking back at the Lance. "That would be… boring."
The air tightened.
"Stand down, student," Varay warned.
Cael ignored her.
He looked at Bairon.
"Humor me," he said casually. "How strong is a Lance, really?"
The courtyard went still.
Arthur's eyes sharpened.
"Cael."
Too late.
Mana flared.
Not gradually.
Not cautiously.
It exploded outward from Cael in a violent surge.
Sky-blue light ignited his eyes.
The ground beneath him cracked as gravity distorted around his frame.
Several students stumbled from the pressure spike alone.
Bairon's expression shifted — not anger.
Interest.
"You dare?" the Lance asked quietly.
Cael smiled.
That familiar, dangerous curve.
"Just curious."
He moved first.
Wind detonated beneath his feet, propelling him forward faster than most silver cores could even track. Lightning wrapped around his arm as he drove a punch toward Bairon's chest.
Bairon didn't move.
The impact landed.
And stopped.
Lightning collided with lightning — Bairon's aura absorbing the strike effortlessly.
The counterattack was immediate.
A single backhand.
Cael barely twisted aside as thunder exploded across the courtyard. The shockwave alone shattered remaining windows across the academy facade.
He skidded backward, boots carving trenches in stone.
His grin widened.
"Oh," he murmured. "Good."
Bairon vanished.
He reappeared in front of Cael with white-core speed.
The strike came from above — lightning descending like divine judgment.
Cael raised one hand.
Gravity condensed violently overhead.
The lightning bolt warped, bending slightly off course before detonating beside him instead of through him.
The explosion still threw him across the courtyard.
He flipped midair, wind catching him before impact.
Students watched in stunned silence.
He was fighting a Lance.
And surviving.
Bairon didn't look amused anymore.
"You overestimate yourself."
"Probably," Cael admitted cheerfully.
He extended both hands.
The courtyard shifted.
Stone lifted from the ground in massive slabs, orbiting him as gravitational force intensified. Fire ignited along their edges. Ice layered over them instantly.
He snapped his fingers.
The projectiles launched.
Bairon cut through the first with lightning.
Shattered the second.
Evaporated the third.
But the fourth—
Gravity spiked mid-flight.
It accelerated unnaturally, striking Bairon and forcing him back a single step.
A single step.
But it happened.
The watching mages felt it.
A mid-silver forcing a Lance to move.
Bairon's eyes narrowed.
The next attack came without warning.
The sky darkened as lightning gathered unnaturally above the courtyard.
This was not sparring.
This was a lesson.
Cael's instincts screamed.
He didn't retreat.
He expanded.
Gravity inverted outward in a dome around him, compressing the air itself. Wind spiraled violently. Lightning cracked from his body in chaotic arcs. Ice crystallized across the ground.
For a moment—
He looked less like a student.
And more like a disaster.
The lightning strike fell.
White against blue.
The collision deafened the courtyard.
The gravitational field shattered under the pressure.
Cael was driven into the ground, stone imploding beneath him.
Silence followed.
Dust rose slowly.
Arthur strained against his bindings.
"Enough!" Varay's voice cut through the smoke.
Bairon stood at the crater's edge.
Unharmed.
Calm.
The dust cleared.
Cael was kneeling in the center of a shattered circle of stone, breathing heavily. Blood trailed from the corner of his mouth.
But he was smiling.
His eyes still burned.
"…White core," he muttered to himself. "Ridiculous."
Bairon stepped forward.
The difference in power was undeniable.
Absolute.
"You are a talented child," Bairon said coldly. "But talent without restraint is arrogance."
Cael chuckled softly.
"Yeah," he agreed. "I figured."
Varay stepped between them.
"This ends now."
The oppressive mana receded slightly.
Cael let his gravitational field collapse completely.
Arthur's bindings remained intact.
The Lances did not pursue further action.
But every mage present had seen it.
A mid-silver had exchanged blows with a Lance.
And laughed.
As Arthur was finally taken away, he met Cael's gaze briefly.
There was frustration there.
Concern.
And something else.
Understanding.
Cael wiped the blood from his lip.
His core throbbed violently from the strain.
But beneath the exhaustion—
He felt alive.
For the first time since reincarnating.
He had tested himself against the ceiling of Dicathen's power.
And though he had been crushed—
He had not been erased.
As the Lances departed with Arthur in custody, whispers began spreading across the ruined courtyard.
Sky-Eyed Demon.
The boy who challenged a Lance.
Cael tilted his head back toward the sky.
War was coming.
And for the first time—
He wasn't just preparing for it.
He was excited.