The vice president continued to stare with cold intensity, even as the medic team hauled his fallen opponent out of the arena.
The next challenger stepped forward—a girl, tall and slender, her orange hair tied back in a taut ponytail. Pale blue eyes sat beneath her lashes, delicate and uncertain, holding surprise, fear, and hesitation like trapped birds behind glass.
She ascended the stage quietly, rubbing the side of her hand and avoiding the vice president's gaze.
Shae narrowed his eyes for a moment, noting the subtle twitches in her expression. His auburn hair drifted in the breeze—now growing colder as the morning air transitioned toward noon.
She was still stalling. But the moment the examiner signaled the start of the match, something inside her snapped.
A spear shimmered into her grip. She twirled it in one hand, the shaft a rich brown hue that gleamed faintly in the growing light. Her expression twisted—an unhinged, crooked grin creeping up her face as her once-gentle eyes ignited with a manic gleam.
In the blink of an eye, she became someone else entirely.
That transformation unsettled Shae, though he locked away the concern. There was no time. She was already lunging at him, fast as a bolt of instinct.
He drew his sword in a blur, raising it above his head just in time to meet the descending spear.
Steel collided with steel, and a shockwave rippled outward in a perfect ring.
His legs trembled slightly under the impact, but he shifted the blade's angle and used her momentum against her, making her falter sideways.
He pressed the opening.
A cascade of rapid kicks followed—sharp, fluid, relentless. His legs whipped at her like thorns on a storm-born vine, fast enough to blur. Every movement was precise, like he was striking notes on an invisible instrument.
But she was no fragile opponent.
She spun her weapon, stepped back, twisted away, blocked, sidestepped—every motion tight, practiced, wild. She didn't just evade—she mirrored his rhythm.
She danced with him.
Her spear arced to her side, carving a vicious, elegant spiral before she dashed forward, spinning the shaft above her head and lunging with accumulated force.
Shae's sword flashed outward, trailing black afterimages. Steel met spear with a shriek of force. He deflected the blow with raw power, but she was already pivoting into another strike—hurling herself into the fight like a wildfire refusing to die.
She wasn't just reacting—she was studying him. Every nuance of his stance, his shifts in balance, his movements—she drank it all in with uncanny clarity.
Shae tightened his grip.
As the vice president of the Academy, and the right hand of someone like Nyssira—who wore irresponsibility like a crown—Shae had always been the one to calculate, to plan, to carry the burden of consequence.
And he was good at it.
Not because he craved titles or admiration. But because he loved to calculate.
Shae was the type to map out every strike in his mind before a single blow was exchanged. That was exactly what he'd done with his last opponent—predict, dismantle, finish.
He was ruthless. Precision embodied.
And the nature of his talent only deepened that edge—deceptive, crafty, tailored perfectly to his style.
But most people never looked twice at him.
Many assumed he was hiding behind Nyssira's shadow, the quiet strategist tucked away under a louder crown.
Today, though—today the ordinary students were seeing him for what he truly was.
Dangerous. Lethal.
And for someone like Shae, whose every win hinged on cold, clean control, having an opponent who was not only watching him just as closely—but laughing through the chaos—was a devastating shift.
The girl's grin widened as she began to circle him slowly, dragging her spear along the floor with a screeching sound that sent a tremor through the air. She tilted her head and lifted her chin.
"Oh? Do you find yourself at a disturbing crossroads… vice... president?"
Her voice slithered through the space between them—mocking, satisfied, and disturbingly pleased with what she saw.
Shae frowned, a flicker of confusion passing over his face.
"Do I know you?"
The girl's grin widened, eyes glinting with something unhinged. Her voice came, lilting like a chime dipped in venom
"You could never. But I—I know your kind. Your type. Your person... not you. Don't insult me. I could never know a canon-fodder like you."
Shae's frown deepened. His eyes narrowed as he subtly tracked her movements—quietly calculating, steadily observing.
She kept circling, her feet light, movements taunting.
"You think you've got the world in your grasp, don't you?"
Her voice slipped into something eerie—low, jagged, unsettling in its cadence. It didn't belong to her face, not at first glance. But the grin she wore—the twisted thing carved across her lips—matched it perfectly.
"In that tiny, arrogant head of yours, you believe there's an answer to everything. That if you think hard enough, calculate precisely enough… you'll win."
Shae studied her in silence, frown etched firmly in place. After a pause, his voice emerged, calm and even:
"You speak as if you bear a grudge."
She stopped. Her grin dropped like a mask falling from her face, replaced with a flat, deadpan expression. She rolled her eyes, then slapped her cheek gently with a look of theatrical exhaustion.
"Oh, my rotting soul. What is it with these sprouting seedlings, thinking they matter so much? Why would I hold a grudge against a child?"
Shae tilted his head slightly, something strange glinting in his gaze.
"You speak as though you weren't one yourself."
She sneered and waved him off, expression contorting with disgust.
"Never mind, boy. You wouldn't understand. Your mind is far too small. But… for what it's worth—I don't just intend to defeat you today. I want to break you. I want to shatter your precious little mind."
A silence stretched between them, taut and razor-edged.
Shae said nothing. He simply watched her. For a few moments, he was still as stone.
Then, slowly, he raised his sword—his expression unreadable, face calm, but his thoughts a storm beneath the surface.
Her grin returned—wider, more grotesque than before.
"Good. Good, Vice President. Keep that calm, handsome face of yours, keep feeding yourself that pretty lie—that you're in control."
Her pupils dilated. Her grin widened into a twisted crescent, teeth clenched in delight.
"Because the only control here… is the one I'm wielding!"
And with that, she launched forward—spear arcing, madness igniting her step.