Northern didn't wear the non-combative school uniform this time. All he had on was the same tracksuit from earlier—he hadn't even bothered to return to his room. Instead, he settled into the dining hall without hesitation.
Naturally, he had to endure the stares again. Several students couldn't take their eyes off him, whispering and glancing his way. The servers, however, were kind—almost overly so. They blessed him with generous extra servings, smiling like they'd been waiting for his arrival.
He ate alongside Aster and the other two guys again today.
Afterward, the four of them made their way to the coliseum. Unfortunately, they couldn't relax or take in the moment. Their match was scheduled as the first of the day.
The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation.
Usually, in the early hours, the coliseum saw sparse attendance. It wasn't until late morning or afternoon that the seats filled up.
But today was different.
Today marked the continuation of the contest—and it was Northern's team opening the event.
The result? People had risen before dawn, traveling from all across Verulania just to witness the spectacle. Many weren't content with simply attending—they wanted the front row, to see every movement, every flicker of power, up close.
And they weren't the only ones.
The agents of the citadels—six of the most powerful and influential organizations in Ul'Tra-el—made no effort to blend in today. Their presence was loud, proud, and brimming with silent threats.
These six citadels were known not only for their strength, but for their deep-rooted connections with the Academy. And today, all six occupied the front row, cloaked in an air of cutthroat rivalry. Tension bled into the seats like smoke—cold, invisible, but felt in every heartbeat.
As Northern stepped onto the stage, a sudden voice cracked through the rising noise.
"HEY! Flower boy!!"
"Northern!!!"
His brow furrowed. He scanned the distant crowd with a quiet grimace—then his eyes widened in recognition, surprise flashing across his face.
"What are those two doing here?"
He muttered under his breath.
One face stirred warmth. The other? Not so much. She was the third member of Raven's cohort—the one he disliked most. And if memory served right, she had once been her teacher. Cold, arrogant, and difficult.
He'd dropped both their names as potential candidates for Tharion Citadel.
'They must be here on behalf of the Citadel…'
But that raised another question. If he was already part of Tharion Citadel, why were they here mingling with the other citadels? What purpose did their presence serve in this recruitment brawl?
…He already belonged to them, even though partially.
Northern shook off the thought. It was a distraction, and he had no time for distractions. He shifted his stance and narrowed his gaze toward his incoming opponents.
Meanwhile, across the arena, a dark-haired boy sat with his arms casually crossed. His skin was pale like polished stone, his onyx eyes gleaming with energy and mischief. He wore a sleeveless black ensemble—elegant yet simple—that revealed the lean strength lining his arms. His grin was wide, childlike, and impossible to ignore.
Beside him, a blonde-haired woman exhaled and folded her arms across her lacking chest. Her posture radiated discomfort, and she didn't bother hiding her disdain.
"I really hate this kind of job…" she muttered.
The boy tilted his head toward her, a frown puckering his brow.
"Oh come on. Don't act like you're not happy to see him again. It's only been three months, but it feels like a lifetime."
Helena gave no answer at first. Her gaze followed Northern's form across the arena. Her expression was flat, almost cold—but there was softness at the edges, a quiet pang of something unspoken.
Then she scoffed lightly.
"And he seems to have grown... tremendously in that time."
Ellis lit up at her words.
"Of course he has! He's Northern—the G.O.A.T.!"
Helena winced, her eye twitching at the phrase.
"What a strange thing to say… what does that even mean?"
"Greatest of all time," Ellis replied without missing a beat.
"Then just say greatest of all time. Why coin it into some bizarre acronym?"
Ellis looked off for a moment, genuinely contemplating her logic. But the thought only lasted a second before he snapped back with a grin.
"Because it sounds better that way. It has aura!"
Helena gave him a side-eye that suggested she was already regretting her life decisions.
"Isn't this a stellar opportunity?!"
Ellis beamed, eyes practically sparkling.
"The first time I set eyes on him again, and I get to see him fight. I'm so happy I could fly."
Helena shook her head, exasperated—but she couldn't deny that part of her understood exactly how he felt.
They hadn't come here by accident.
The Headmaster had personally requested they attend on behalf of the Tharion Citadel—to ensure no other citadel tried to lure Northern away. Though Northern was already under contract, the man wasn't taking any chances. Rumors were swirling through the ranks of the citadels—talk of a strange student rising through the Academy with terrifying momentum.
The rumors had grown wild enough that the strongest citadel in the Central Plains was allegedly considering making an offer.
Thalen insisted he wasn't worried about Northern's loyalty.
He just didn't trust the other citadels.
But Helena knew better. She saw right through it.
That's exactly what he's afraid of, she thought. He's scared Northern might see a better offer and walk away.
And that fear explained everything. Thalen had sent not just anyone—but the two people Northern had a personal connection with.
'That guy's such a cunning old fox.'
Still... she couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline. The rumors surrounding Northern had reached absurd heights—each version more ridiculous than the last.
Some said he had summoned a thousand comets and painted the winter sky with fire.
Others whispered he could fly—faster than light, they claimed.
Some swore he could freeze entire cities in moments.
None of it matched the Northern she remembered.
'Since when could he fly?'
She scoffed inwardly.
-No way. That has to be fake… right?'
But now she'd get to see for herself—see what it was about him that inspired such wild tales. And in that truth, she'd find out just how much he'd changed.
The arena's stage rippled with movement as a figure stepped forward.
"Hey... friend."
The voice came from a calm, almost lazy swagger. A boy strolled onto the stage, two swords slung across his back. His presence dripped confidence. He was dressed like a native ninja, but his attire was strange—woven from shadows themselves, it seemed. Black, rippling like liquid night.
An onyx breastplate clung to his torso, glinting faintly under the light. A long blue scarf coiled around his neck, fluttering behind him with each step like a trail of mist.
He spread his arms wide in greeting. Muscles shifted beneath his sleeveless garb—fluid, agile, and coiled with power.
"Remember what I said…"
Kaelan's grin was sharp. In a blur, his hands moved, and his twin blades shimmered. Purple light flashed along their edges as they appeared in his grip—already drawn, already ready.
"No holding back."