The training room was silent, except for the sharp rhythm of steel cutting through air.
Noah moved fluidly across the floor, each step deliberate, each swing of his blade precise. He wasn't using any spells. Because he can't. Just the clean, practiced movement of someone who had spent years mastering a blade.
The sweat on his brow stung his eyes, but he didn't stop.
A deep breath. Another slash.
A shift in his stance. Follow-through. Reset.
He didn't count the hours anymore—just the mistakes. The ones that still slipped in.
With one final strike, he halted. The tip of his katana hovered inches from the floor, perfectly still. His breath was steady but labored.
He stepped back and rolled his shoulders.
'Agh… I'm exhausted.'
He wiped his forehead with his forearm, the fabric damp with sweat.
'Classes drain me mentally… Professor Trinity keeps staring at me like she's analyzing every heartbeat. Professor Al too. They don't even try to hide it anymore. What happened for me to be in the spotlight?'
He dropped down onto the bench near the wall and leaned his katana against it.
'At least here, I get to exhaust myself physically.'
He looked around the room—empty, lit by the soft glow of mana lanterns on the walls.
'Maybe this is the best it gets.'
He closed his eyes briefly, letting his head rest back against the cool stone behind him.
A soft fwump landed on Noah's head.
He blinked, startled, and pulled the towel down into his hands.
"Hello, Noah!" said a clear, cheerful voice.
He turned.
Standing a few paces away was Lys Everin—a year above him, short blue hair slightly tousled from training, and a small silver star ornament clipped just above her right temple. Her uniform was pristine despite the setting, and her bright smile made it easy to understand why others were drawn to her.
"Fourth place, right?" she said warmly. "Congratulations. Looks like all that hard work paid off."
Noah gave a small nod, still holding the towel. "Huh. Thanks for this. Yeah, guess I did alright."
"You don't sound very excited."
He tilted his head slightly, wiping his face. "You're not wrong—I am proud. Actually… here."
He reached to the side and picked up a small, finely crafted item—sleek and metallic, shaped like a compass with golden inlays. He held it up between two fingers.
"This is what I got. My reward."
Lys leaned in slightly, curious. "Ah... I remember when I placed second last year. Only one person beat me."
She said it like a casual fact, but her eyes sharpened for just a moment—focused.
"You must've been strong," Noah replied.
"Not really," she shrugged with a small laugh. Then, pointing to the item in his hand: "That? That's your reward? A compass?"
"Correct. It's called Veilpiercer."
"And it does what exactly?" she asked. "Point toward your next disappointment?"
Noah let out a dry breath. "Harsh."
"Sorry, but that feels a little underwhelming. Fourth place and they give you that? You should complain to the academy."
Noah glanced at it. The needle pointed slightly off-center—toward her.
"No need. I'll treasure it. As a reminder."
She leaned closer. "So, what is it pointing at right now? That's not north."
"It marks your home," he lied smoothly. "You can set a point anywhere, and it'll always guide you back to it."
"Hm. Still seems like a weak reward."
She stepped back, adjusting the star-shaped ornament in her hair with elegant ease.
"Anyway, I won't bother you more," she said with a smile.
As she left, two students almost immediately approached her near the doorway—bright faces, energetic voices, eager to ask her something.
Noah watched in silence.
'She's as popular as ever.'
He exhaled and stretched his arms behind his back.
'Still, that was a refreshing talk. But back to work. There's a protagonist's seat to claim.'
He stood, picked up his katana, and sheathed it with a soft click.
'Now that I think about it… what's Cordelia doing?'
He grabbed his jacket and slung it over one shoulder, already calculating how many hours he could train tomorrow between classes and missions.
As he stepped out of the training hall, the wind outside was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and arcane residue from the spell range nearby.
'Now that I think about it…'
His eyes narrowed slightly.
'What's Cordelia doing right now?'
The thought came uninvited, but stuck like a thorn. Despite everything, despite the new alliance they'd started to form—he hadn't seen her all day.
He clicked his tongue and turned toward Class 1 dorms.
Unaware of what was happening on the other side of the academy.
The afternoon sun filtered through the arched windows of the combat training hall, casting long rays across the polished arena floor.
Cordelia stood near the edge, arms crossed, breathing calmly after a round of sparring. She had performed well—better than most. Some students had even clapped. Not that she cared for it. Recognition wasn't what she sought.
But then she heard the voice.
"You're Cordelia, right? The girl who took first place last Trial Atrium?"
The words rang clear, dripping with condescension.
Cordelia turned.
A tall girl with silver-blonde hair stepped into the arena, flanked by two others wearing robes embroidered with the seal of Class 1. Her eyes were a cold violet, and her expression was one of bored confidence.
"I'm Serina Thornevale. I don't recall seeing you during the first-year evaluations. You must've gotten lucky."
Cordelia didn't flinch. "And you must've missed the ranking board."
A few students chuckled.
Serina's smile sharpened. "How about a little one-on-one then? Just to confirm your spot isn't… a clerical error."
Cordelia eyed her carefully. "Do you challenge all top scorers, or just the ones from commoner families?"
Serina shrugged, as if the answer didn't matter. "I challenge anyone whose title looks undeserved."
The crowd was already forming, eager for something entertaining.
Cordelia sighed.
"Fine. Let's make it quick."
They stood opposite each other in the ring, mana already stirring in the air.
Serina conjured a thin veil of frost across her gloves, light swirling between her fingers. Cordelia didn't summon anything flashy—just a steady, focused stream of mana gathered around her hands.
Before the signal could be given, Professor Halvern—a man with slick black hair and rectangular glasses, an upper-year instructor known for his favoritism toward noble students—stepped into the ring.
"Hold on," he said. "I wasn't informed of a duel."
Serina turned, tone sweet. "Oh, we're just practicing, Professor. Nothing official."
His eyes narrowed at Cordelia. "I see. And what house did you say you were from again?"
Cordelia straightened. "I'm not from a noble house."
He sneered. "Of course not. Well, then—this won't take long."
He raised his hand.
"Begin."
Serina moved first, channeling a concentrated burst of mana into her legs and gloves. Frost magic coiled elegantly along her arms, forming pale blue runes across her sleeves. The air around her grew sharp and brittle, the temperature in the hall dropping slightly.
Cordelia met her charge without flinching.
A flare of red-gold mana surged around her fists, fire magic entwining with her enchantments. Her movements were sharper, more refined than most expected—her training evident in every pivot and strike.
The clash was brief but explosive.
Flames met frost. Sparks scattered across the arena as fire magic overpowered Serina's attempt to freeze the ground beneath Cordelia's feet. Cordelia didn't just resist—it looked like she overwhelmed her.
With one final feint and a sweeping arc of flame around her left hand, she disarmed Serina and sent her skidding to the edge of the arena.
The crowd gasped.
Cordelia's fire winked out with a controlled flick of her fingers.
She took a step back, breathing only slightly harder than usual. Calm. Efficient. No taunts. No pride.
But Serina's expression had already twisted into something sour.
"She used a boost," she snapped, standing back up. "There's no way her fire magic could overpower mine like that. She had to be using something illegal."
Cordelia's eyes narrowed. "You're seriously—?"
A new voice cut in before she could finish.
"Enough."
Professor Halvern entered the ring, robes trailing, expression unreadable.
His gaze fell coldly on Cordelia.
"Illegal enhancement mid-duel. That is a serious accusation, Miss Thornevale."
Serina bowed slightly, eyes shimmering with false humility. "I just want fairness, sir. Her output—it wasn't natural."
Cordelia stepped forward, indignant. "I didn't use anything. My control is just better than hers."
Halvern raised a hand, muttered a quick incantation, and a faint ripple passed through Cordelia's gloves. A subtle shimmer—orange-red like flame—briefly flickered, then vanished.
"There," he said flatly. "Traces of amplification."
Cordelia's mouth opened in shock. "That's from my base enchantment. It's legal, standard-level—!"
"Not at that intensity," Halvern interrupted. "You'll come with me to the faculty chambers. We'll sort this… privately."
Cordelia looked around, hoping someone might speak up.
No one did.
Halvern turned sharply and began walking.
Cordelia followed stiffly, fists clenched at her sides, the warmth of her magic still smoldering beneath her skin—not from power, but from rage.
Noah had taken the long way back from training, figuring he'd grab something quick to eat before heading to the dorms. The afternoon sun spilled across the white stone courtyard, warming the walls of the academy.
That's when he saw them.
Cordelia and one of the professors—older, tall, with greying temples and a sharp gaze. Halvern. He recognized the name, though barely.
The man had her by the arm, gripping it tightly as he led her down the corridor at a brisk pace. Not walking beside her—pulling her. Cordelia wasn't resisting, but the tension in her body was unmistakable. Her expression wasn't angry. It wasn't scared either.
Noah stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing.
'What the hell is going on?'
As they passed beneath the archway ahead, Cordelia turned her head slightly.
Their eyes met for just a second.
And in that second, he saw it.
Rage.
And shame.
'That's not a normal disciplinary walk. Something's off.'
He began to follow, keeping his distance, steps slow and deliberate.
They turned down one of the side halls toward the academy's north wing.
Noah shifted toward a nearby pillar, pretending to glance at a notice board as he watched them.
They stopped in front of a thick, dark oak door.
And then they went inside.
The door closed.
Hard.
Noah stared at it, jaw tightening.
'Faculty wing... What the hell did they accuse her of?'
His hand dipped into his coat pocket.
He pulled out the Veilpiercer.
The needle trembled… then swung slightly, pointing in the same direction she had gone.
'Pointing this way, huh?'
He hid the compass inside his coat.
Then turned and walked toward where they had taken Cordelia.