A week had passed since the incident with Valerius Thorne. The tension in the Luminara Magic Tower was palpable, a heavy fog that settled over the courtyard and clung to the stone walls of the classrooms.
I sat at a table in the cafeteria, picking at my food. Next to me sat Elara and Kaelen, my two anchors in this chaotic world.
"I’m telling you," I said, gesturing with my fork, "Professor Onlnor’s lecture on mana resonance was fascinating, but my legs feel like jelly. I swear, Kaelen, you’re trying to kill me with these workouts."
Kaelen looked up from his plate, a piece of meat halfway to his mouth. "You’re getting stronger. I can see it in your form."
"I’m getting tired," I corrected, though I couldn’t hide the pride in my voice. "But I suppose that’s progress."
Elara took a sip of her tea, her grey eyes scanning the cafeteria. "You should be careful, Bell. The atmosphere is getting worse."
I nodded, my expression darkening. "I’ve noticed. The upperclassmen have been causing a ruckus."
"It’s more than a ruckus," Elara said, setting her cup down. "Since Valerius killed those upperclassmen, the noble families are furious. They can’t touch Valerius directly, the King’s protection is absolute, so they’re targeting the entire first-year class."
I shivered, remembering the red mist. "Why don’t the teachers do anything?"
Elara sighed, leaning back. "They don’t want to be involved in noble matters. Valerius operates under the King’s direct jurisdiction. To the faculty, the matter is settled. Anything that happens now is considered 'playful banter' as long as they don’t cross a certain line."
"What line?" I asked.
Elara paused, thinking. "My father, the Head of the Tower, determines that. It’s subjective, which makes it even more dangerous."
I looked at Kaelen, expecting him to show some concern, but he was calmly eating his lunch, completely unbothered.
I sighed, reaching out to pat his broad, muscular back. He paused, looking at me with a confused expression.
"Just checking if you’re still alive in there," I said with a smile.
He swallowed his food and nodded. "I’m fine."
I shook my head. He’s been training like a maniac all week. I was worried about him pushing himself too hard, but I was also incredibly proud of his motivation.
The day dragged on, the tension in the corridors thickening with every passing hour. Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of classes.
I packed my bag, intending to head to Elara’s club room to study. I stepped out into the hallway, weaving through the crowd of students, when I felt a sudden yank on my satchel.
The strap dug into my shoulder, and before I could react, the bag was ripped from my grasp. I stumbled forward, my short stature making it impossible to hold on.
"Hey!" I spun around.
A group of upperclassmen stood there, laughing. They wore the uniforms of second-year students, their expressions arrogant and cruel. They weren’t the elite students who had faced Valerius, but they were skilled enough to be a threat.
"Give that back," I demanded, stepping forward.
The leader, a boy with greasy hair and a sneer, held my bag high above his head. "What’s the matter, first-year? Need this?"
"Please," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "I need my books."
"Too bad," he laughed. He shoved me hard.
I fell backward, my soft body hitting the stone floor with a painful thud. My elbow scraped against the rough ground, sending a sharp sting up my arm.
The crowd around us stopped, watching the scene unfold. I felt small, exposed, and terrified as the upperclassmen loomed over me.
The leader raised his hand, likely to strike me, but suddenly—
CRACK.
His face snapped to the side violently. A fist connected with his jaw with the force of a battering ram, sending him flying across the hallway. He smashed into the stone wall with a sickening crunch, sliding down into a heap.
I looked up, my heart racing.
"Kaelen!"
He stood over me, his broad back shielding me from the others. He didn’t look at me, his emerald eyes fixed on the remaining upperclassmen.
He reached down, his large hand gripping mine and pulling me to my feet with effortless strength. He shoved my satchel into my arms.
"Go," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I’ll be back after a bit."
"Kaelen, wait—"
Before I could finish, he moved.
He lunged at the next upperclassman, a tall boy with a scar on his cheek. The boy raised his hands to defend himself, mana flaring around his fists, but Kaelen was too fast.
Kaelen’s fist slammed into the boy’s gut. The air left the boy’s lungs in a wheezing gasp, his eyes bulging. But the upperclassman was trained; through the pain, he managed to drive a mana-infused elbow into Kaelen’s ribs.
Thud.
Kaelen grunted but didn’t budge. He grabbed the boy’s head and slammed his knee into his face. Blood sprayed from the boy’s nose as he crumpled to the floor.
"Get him!" the remaining upperclassmen shouted.
Three of them rushed Kaelen at once. The hallway erupted into chaos.
Kaelen ducked under a wild punch, pivoting on his heel. He grabbed the attacker’s arm and twisted it violently. A sharp crack echoed through the corridor as the bone snapped. The boy screamed, but Kaelen silenced him with a brutal elbow to the temple.
The second attacker tried to circle him, mana gathering in his palm. He launched a bolt of kinetic force, but Kaelen sidestepped with surprising agility for his size. The bolt shattered a locker behind him.
Kaelen closed the distance in a heartbeat. He didn’t use magic; he used raw, physical brutality. He drove a fist into the boy’s solar plexus, doubling him over, then brought his other hand down on the back of the boy’s neck. The upperclassman hit the floor face-first, unconscious.
The third attacker hesitated, seeing his comrades fall. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a manacomm.
"Backup! I need backup in the main corridor!" he yelled into it, his voice cracking with panic.
Kaelen didn’t wait. He charged.
The boy threw a desperate punch, but Kaelen caught it mid-air. With a twist of his wrist, he dislocated the boy’s shoulder. The boy screamed, but Kaelen drove his forehead into the boy’s nose. Cartilage crunched, and the boy dropped like a stone.
But the distraction had cost him.
A fourth upperclassman, who had been hanging back, raised his hand. Mana swirled around him, a brilliant, violent blue.
"Take this!" he roared.
A blast of compressed air shot from his palm, a magical projectile designed to shatter bone.
Kaelen turned, but he was too late to fully dodge. The blast caught him in the shoulder, spinning him around. The force was immense, lifting him off his feet.
"Kaelen!" I screamed.
He crashed through the window of the classroom beside us. Glass shattered in a glittering rain, and his massive body was hurled out into the open air.
The crowd gasped. We were on the second floor, but the drop wasn't fatal, just painful.
I rushed to the broken window, my heart in my throat. Below, in the courtyard, Kaelen was already moving. He had landed on his feet, crouched like a cat, though a trickle of blood ran down his forehead.
The upperclassmen who had been inside the classroom rushed to the window, looking down. The one who had called for backup grinned.
"He’s down there! Surround him!"
They didn’t use the stairs. They leaped. Enhanced by mana, they jumped from the window, landing in the courtyard with heavy thuds.
I watched in horror as the upperclassmen surrounded Kaelen. There were six of them now, their mana flaring like bonfires.
Kaelen stood tall, wiping the blood from his eye. He didn’t look scared. He looked... focused.
The first one charged, a sword of mana forming in his hand. Kaelen rolled to the side, the mana blade slicing the air where his head had been. He came up beside a stone bench used for studying.
He didn't cast a spell. He didn't summon a weapon. He grabbed the heavy stone bench with both hands.
With a roar that seemed to shake the ground, he lifted the bench. It weighed hundreds of pounds, but in his hands, it looked light. He swung it like a baseball bat.
CRASH.
The stone bench connected with the first attacker’s side. The sound of ribs shattering was audible even from my position at the window. The boy was launched sideways, tumbling across the cobblestones.
"Magic! Use magic!" another upperclassman screamed.
Two of them raised their hands simultaneously. Fire and lightning crackled in the air, converging on Kaelen’s position.
Kaelen threw the remains of the bench at them. The heavy stone disrupted their aim, the fireball exploding against the bench, sending shards of rock flying everywhere.
Through the smoke, Kaelen charged. He moved like a blur, closing the distance before they could cast again.
He grabbed the first mage by the throat, lifting him off the ground. The mage gasped, clawing at Kaelen’s arm, but Kaelen’s grip was iron. With his free hand, Kaelen drove a fist into the mage’s kidney. The mage vomited bile, his eyes rolling back.
Kaelen threw him aside like a ragdoll.
But another mage was ready. A bolt of ice magic struck Kaelen’s leg, piercing through his pant leg and embedding in his calf.
Kaelen stumbled, his knee hitting the ground.
"Got him!" the ice mage yelled.
Two upperclassmen rushed in, seeing their chance. One held a dagger of mana, the other a club of hardened force.
They struck simultaneously. The dagger slashed across Kaelen’s back, tearing his shirt and drawing a line of crimson. The club smashed into his ribs.
Kaelen grunted, the air leaving his lungs. But he didn’t fall.
He grabbed the leg of the one with the club and yanked. The upperclassman crashed to the ground. Kaelen didn't hesitate. He brought his fist down: once, twice, three times. The sound was wet and heavy, like a butcher tenderizing meat. The upperclassman stopped moving.
The remaining mage, the one with the ice, began to chant a spell, the air around him freezing rapidly.
Kaelen looked up. His eyes weren't just green anymore; they were glowing with a feral light. Blood dripped from his forehead, his lip was split, and his leg was bleeding, but he smiled.
It wasn't a happy smile. It was a grim, terrifying grin that showed all his teeth.
He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain in his leg. He looked around, his eyes landing on a construction site near the edge of the courtyard. Scaffolding poles lay scattered on the ground.
He limped toward them, moving faster than the mage expected. He grabbed a length of iron rebar, thick and jagged at one end.
The mage finished his spell. A spike of ice, the size of a spear, shot toward Kaelen.
Kaelen didn't dodge. He swung the rebar.
CLANG.
The iron pole smashed the ice spear into a thousand glittering shards. Kaelen didn't stop. He closed the distance in two strides, the rebar whistling through the air.
The mage’s eyes widened in terror. He tried to summon a shield, but the rebar smashed through his mana barrier like it was paper. The iron struck the mage’s shoulder, shattering his collarbone with a sickening pop.
The mage screamed, falling to his knees. Kaelen brought the rebar down again, this time across the mage’s back. The metal bent with the impact, and the mage went silent, collapsing face-first onto the cobblestones.
The courtyard fell silent for a heartbeat.
Kaelen stood amidst the carnage. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving. Blood coated his arms, his face, and his clothes, some his own, most theirs. The iron rebar in his hand was dripping red.
From the windows above, the entire first-year class watched in stunned silence. Even the upperclassmen who had rushed down to join the fight hesitated, seeing the pile of broken bodies around Kaelen.
Then, more movement. The mana communicator had done its job. A fresh wave of upperclassmen poured into the courtyard from the main archway. There were ten of them, maybe more. They were armed, their mana radiating killing intent.
I gripped the windowsill, my knuckles white. "Kaelen..."
He looked up at the new arrivals, his chest heaving. And then, he laughed.
It wasn't a sound of madness, but of pure, unadulterated adrenaline. A deep, rumbling laugh that echoed off the stone walls.
He dropped the bent rebar and reached for something else: a heavy paving stone used for the walkway. He hefted it, testing its weight.
I stared at him, my mind racing. I had seen him train. I had seen him study. But I had never seen this side of him.
As he charged at the new wave of enemies, his movements were savage, his strikes brutal. He wasn't fighting like a mage. He was fighting like a beast.
I looked out the window, watching him tear through the line of upperclassmen, his fists flying, his body taking hit after hit but refusing to fall.
A cold realization washed over me.
Is he enjoying this?
The thought sent a shiver down my spine, but as I watched him fight for... for me, I couldn't look away.