CHAPTER 24
The moment the final class ended, Sorayael and the others wasted no time. They split across the halls, asking everyone they could find.
A student looked up from their book and nodded hesitantly. "I think.. I heard she was summoned to the training hall. Some upperclassmen said they wanted to 'test' her."
Sorayael's expression hardened. "Let's go."
They bolted.
The training hall doors stood wide open, loud with the roar of gathered students. The moment they stepped inside, the sight hit them like a slap:
Ravelia, alone, was locked in a fight against seven upperclassmen. Veins of ice spiderwebbed beneath her, a testament to her frantic spellwork. She panted hard, dodging a barrage of elemental attacks: flames that curved, wind blades that sliced, and earth spikes that rose.
'One versus seven. What kind of pathetic show of power is this?' Sorayael thought bitterly.
Zarethian's brows furrowed in rage. "This is a damn ambush."
Without hesitation, Kieran vaulted the railing.
He landed with precision, drawing back his wind-infused bow. "Back off," he said coldly, stepping protectively in front of Ravelia. "Did it take all seven of you just to feel superior?"
One of the upperclassmen scoffed. "Stay out of this."
But then came Karsen, sword unsheathed, stance firm. "You don't give orders to us."
Celene landed beside them with a splash of condensed mist, her hand glowing with blue runes. "I'd step back before this gets wet."
Silas followed next, calm but sharp-eyed, already forming a protective barrier in front of Ravelia. "Not exactly a fair fight, is it?"
Zarethian hit the ground last with a flick of fire sparking from his palm and metal lining his blade. "We're seven now too. Try your luck."
Finally, Sorayael walked slowly into the circle, composed. She stood between them all, as if anchoring the group, her magic softly glowing around her fingers, calm, nondescript. A shimmer of energy, nothing flashy. She never revealed much.
But her presence made the crowd go quiet.
She looked straight into the upperclassman who first mocked Ravelia. "You picked the wrong person to humiliate. You wanted to test her?" She stepped forward. "Now let's test you."
Kieran notched an arrow. "Let's call this.. a fair rematch."
Celene smiled coldly. "We'll make it quick."
Silas whispered to Ravelia, healing magic already weaving over her bruises. "We've got you."
Zarethian's sword lit with molten veins. "We protect our own."
Karsen raised his blade. "Let's dance."
And with Sorayael at the center, her eyes narrowed.
She didn't need to show her true power.
Not yet.
But her words would be remembered:
The tension crackled like static.
But just as Sorayael stepped forward, something flickered at the edge of her vision. Two teachers slipped into the hall's far entrance, their robes swaying softly as they blended into the crowd. They kept to the shadows, eyes sharp, as if studying a subject behind glass.
"Spying? Or evaluating?' she wondered, a smirk tugging at the edge of her lips. How convenient.
She turned her gaze back to one of the upperclassmen, the very same who mocked Ravelia the day before. Without breaking eye contact, she raised her hand in mock politeness.
The upperclassman scoffed.
Instead of accepting her gesture, he lunged, his staff was already glowing with mana. A fire spell burst forth like a whip toward her.
But Sorayael's expression didn't change.
Her body glided sideways just enough to evade the flame.
Her hand carved a sigil into the air; basic, unremarkable magic to most eyes, but it caught the flame mid-air, bent it, and turned it back in a spiral.
It flared past the attacker's shoulder, burning the edge of his robe.
He hissed in frustration. "Little rat-!"
Sorayael's lips curled. "I suppose I'll be the rodent today."
Meanwhile, chaos erupted.
Karsen was already dueling with a brute upperclassman wielding a greataxe. Sparks flew each time the sword clashed with the axe, but Karsen's footwork was faster and cleaner. He grinned. "I thought you were stronger?"
Celene summoned twin spheres of water and launched them at a pair of enemies, forcing them to split. She weaved past a blade of lightning, her response calm and graceful, her expression unreadable. "You overestimated yourselves."
Zarethian surged toward the fray with blazing speed, his blade roaring with fire and glinting metal. "Come on! If you're going to test us, don't hold back!"
Kieran took a perch at the edge, arrows tipped with slicing wind. Every shot pinned a gap, covered an opening, or forced a step back. "Don't blink."
Silas moved between them all, casting shields, healing wounds, supporting Ravelia as she rose again, frost curling from her hands like fangs.
Ravelia stood tall now, ice forming sharp crescents behind her. Her breath fogged with rage. "I'm not someone you can walk over."
And then, back to Sorayael.
She was being underestimated again.
And she loved it.
The upperclassman raised a crystal weapon, laced with dark magic. "You're just an adopted girl clinging to-"
He didn't finish.
A thread of energy, barely visible, lashed out from Sorayael's palm and snapped against his hand. His crystal fell and shattered.
The crowd gasped.
She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Oops."
'Let them see only fragments,' she told herself.
But the teachers in the shadows stiffened slightly.
They noticed something. And Sorayael noticed them noticing.
The match raged on. Seven heirs against seven upperclassmen. Element clashed against steel. Ice met flame. Wind cut through chaos. The room was filled with light, sound, and power.
And Sorayael, still veiled, still holding back, smiled just slightly.
Because her true power wasn't for those weak people.
The clash of spells and weapons finally settled into silence, leaving behind scorched tiles, shattered crystal shards, and the sharp sting of tension.
A whistle blew, sharp and commanding.
The crowd began to disperse, whispers fluttering like moths. The adrenaline was fading, but the aftermath was only beginning.
The seven exchanged glances before following the two instructors out of the hall.
...........
The room was cold, strict in its design. Marble floors, dark oak walls. The kind of room that made students shrink in their seats.
The upperclassmen were already there, their uniforms scorched and egos bruised.
One of them immediately pointed at Ravelia. "She started it. Provoked the fight!"
Ravelia simply raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed, unfazed.
Before the teachers could speak, Zarethian leaned against the wall and smirked. "You're really blaming the girl you tried to gang up on? That's low, even for seven people who lost."
Silas added, his voice soft but pointed, "If we hadn't shown up, Ravelia might've been seriously injured. But I guess watching your own classmate get overwhelmed isn't part of your school spirit."
The lead teacher sighed. "Enough. We've reviewed the surveillance sigils. And while both parties are at fault-"
The upperclassmen straightened, hopeful.
Gasps of protest erupted.
Ravelia opened her mouth, but Sorayael placed a hand on her arm.
Celene gave a slight sigh. "So we become janitors."
Karsen chuckled. "At least we're not suspended."
As they walked out of the office, Zarethian leaned toward one of the upperclassmen with a cheeky grin.
The upperclassman glared but said nothing.
Sorayael didn't speak much, but her faint smile returned as they walked away, her footsteps steady, her power still hidden, and her presence quietly unshaken.
The room was quiet, still as the midnight fog curling outside the high, arched windows. Books lay half-open on a desk, beside a blade wrapped in velvet, untouched.
He leaned back in the armchair, one leg lazily crossed over the other, a thick file resting on his lap.
His tousled hair, streaked with white, black, and deep blue, caught the silver light filtering through the blinds.
It was always a little too messy, like he didn't care, or maybe he just didn't know how to make it behave.
The file in his hand was full of records. Academy personnel. Class assignments. Student rankings.
But his eyes weren't on the words.
They were on the name etched on the corner of one particular page.
He clicked his tongue and shut the folder, letting it fall with a soft thud onto the desk.
His gaze drifted to the window, to the courtyard below where students had already started gathering despite the late hour. Somewhere among them, she might've been walking, quiet, unreadable, and always carrying that glint in her eye.
He had seen many types of people.
Liars. Killers. Heirs. Pretenders.
But there was something about her. A silence that wasn't weak. A gentleness that didn't beg for pity.
And that damn spark.
He scowled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Tch. Why do I even notice these things?"
It bothered him-the way her name always echoed longer in his thoughts than the rest. The way his gaze seemed to wander if she was in the room.
He had a mission. A role to play. Watching her wasn't part of it.
Yet here he was; watching, wondering, remembering.
With a huff, he stood, stretching his arms behind his head, eyes narrowing at his own reflection in the glass.