"At around four o’clock in the afternoon. Third instructor’s office on the west side of the main building. No nameplate on the door. Knock three times," Flint explained earnestly.
She folded her arms, her ice‑grey eyes fixed firmly on Cecil’s face, as if waiting for something — not waiting for his reply, but watching for his expression to betray more of what he was thinking.
Cecil felt the weight of that scrutiny. He did not shy away from her gaze, merely meeting those ice‑grey eyes squarely.
Flint looked away first. Her gaze fell on Gwendolyn at his feet, lingered for a beat, then returned, and she gave a soft "hm".
"I will see you this afternoon," she said. Without further pause this time, she turned toward the iron gate. The clack of her boot heels on the stone slabs receded at an unhurried pace.
Cecil mentally tallied what he had done: two bursts of frost, one ground‑freeze, one precise read of his opponent’s tells. The system text flickered quietly in the back of his mind.
[Battle Power: 54]
Only two points gained. But it was enough.
Cecil was quickly surrounded. Freddy was the first to surge forward, clapping a heavy, hammer‑like palm onto his shoulder, his face alight with stunned excitement. "Did you hear what she just said? She asked to meet you privately this afternoon!"
"That means she is genuinely interested in you — not just empty words," Lydia added. Ivy coiled around her wrist, her emerald‑green body held taut.
Robin perched upon Oliver’s shoulder, his grey eyes bright.
Edwin stood a little further back, not pushing his way to the front, yet he too watched Cecil. A faint, barely perceptible tug pulled at the corner of his mouth, a touch more pronounced than usual.
Several Group‑B students whose names Cecil did not know pressed closer. A boy with round spectacles held out his right hand, palm upward, speaking with overly solemn formality. "My name is Martin Braun. Come to me whenever you need help. My family runs a blacksmith shop in the eastern district. If you ever need that blade sharpened, seek me out." He nodded toward the rusted three‑copper knife at Cecil’s waist.
A girl with a short ponytail squeezed forward, clutching a small stone glowing with pale violet lustre. "This is fluorite, used for storing low‑grade mana. If your frost skill drains you heavily, you can store mana inside it and carry it with you. My family sells these. It’s for you." She pressed the stone into Cecil’s hand and stepped back swiftly, as though afraid he might refuse.
Cecil stared down at the warm violet stone in his palm, then at the crowd before him — all those circling him, watching him, eyes shining. For a fleeting moment it felt as though they were not looking at him, but at what he had just accomplished. They had witnessed a Group‑B student pull off something even Group‑A could not manage, and they swarmed toward him like moths drawn to a newly lit lamp.
He tightened his grip around the fluorite. Its sharp edges dug lightly into his skin.
Gwendolyn leaned down from his shoulder, bringing her head close to his ear, her voice lowered for his ears alone. "Tame that look on your face."
Cecil blinked in surprise.
"You wear the exact same expression you had after slaying the jackals last night," Gwendolyn said tonelessly. "They want to draw near to you, and it makes you uncomfortable. That is normal. But learn to hide it."
Cecil slowly unfurled his clenched fingers. He lifted his gaze over the faces surrounding him: Martin Braun, the short‑ponytailed girl, and the other Group‑B students watching from the outer ring. His voice came out steadier than he expected.
"Thank you. I will take the stone. I will look for you when I need my knife sharpened." He nodded toward Martin, then turned to the girl. "How do I use the fluorite?"
"Hold it near your chest. It will absorb mana gradually. Recharge it when it runs dry; leave it in sunlight for a full day and it will be full again," the girl replied.
Cecil slipped the fluorite into his inner pocket beside his potion vials. "Noted."
The crowd did not disperse at once, yet the overwhelming, burning pressure surrounding him eased. Freddy seized the chance to press up beside Cecil, jostling him with his shoulder. "Alright, alright. He has his meeting with Flint this afternoon. Give him some room to breathe."
The group finally scattered, drifting back across the training ground in small clusters to resume their own affairs.
Cecil and his four companions walked over to the elm tree, squatting down in a circle. Gwendolyn hopped from his shoulder onto his knee.
The four set aside what they were doing and turned toward him. Freddy pulled his ball out from Turner’s jaws and brushed grass off its surface.
"What should we practise now?" Edwin lifted Rust from the iron scraps onto his palm.
Cecil glanced over the four of them and their four Spirit‑Beasts: the copper‑shell beetle, the grey‑furred weasel, the emerald vine‑snake, and the grey‑plumed wind‑falcon. All were small‑bodied with limited raw offensive power, yet each possessed unique strengths.
"Team coordination," Cecil said. "Robin handles aerial scouting and harassment. Turner delivers flanking disruption. Ivy restricts movement. And Rust —"
"Lock‑biting," Edwin cut in.
"Exactly. Lock‑biting. We do not need him for front‑line combat for now." Cecil bent down and picked up a dry twig, drawing a simple circle in the grass. "If Flint stands in the centre, how do we pin her down?"
The five huddled around the drawn circle. Gwendolyn crouched beside them, tapping one spot inside the ring with her tail.
"I take this position," she said. "Front‑line distraction."
"Then Robin will dive down from the left sky," Oliver said.
"Turner rolls in from the right," Freddy mimed a rolling motion with his hand. "He is small, hard to notice."
"Ivy coils around from the rear —" Lydia paused. "Assuming I can actually get her to go back there."
"We practise," Cecil said. "If we fail the first time, we try it ten times."
Lydia bit her lower lip. She set Ivy down on the grass and gave her tail a gentle nudge, urging her toward the back of the circle. Ivy shuffled a few inches forward and halted.
"Ivy, keep going," Lydia said softly.
The vine‑snake twisted her body and crept another short distance onward. Slow, yet she was moving.