Charles sighed, eyeing the kid gripping his arm. The boy's hard stare and firm hold were clearly a challenge, but Charles had no patience for this.
"Look, I don't have time for games," he said, calm but firm, shaking off the grip with a quick motion. "Eat your food; I'm already running late."
The dining hall buzzed with murmurs from the other Aspirants, all in black tunics like his, staring with a mix of surprise and irritation.
A short-haired girl a few seats away raised her voice.
"Hey! We've got rules here," she snapped. "You're the newbie, so respect those who've been here longer. Don't act like a hotshot."
Charles turned to her, raising an eyebrow.
'Seriously? These kids treat this like a military barracks?' he thought, stifling a laugh.
He knew as the newest Aspirant, he was at the bottom of the pecking order, but he wasn't about to let himself get trampled.
Especially not by people younger than him.
Judging by their size and looks, Charles pegged the kids at 11 to 15 years old.
"Chill," he said, flashing a confident grin. "I'll be climbing ranks soon, so I'm not wasting time on these low-tier power games."
Without waiting for a reply, Charles dug into his breakfast with a speed that startled even those watching.
The short-haired girl didn't back down. She leaned forward, smirking mockingly.
"Is the newbie challenging our authority…?" she said loudly, ensuring everyone heard. "Aren't you gonna teach this guy some respect?"
That was like lighting a fuse.
Several kids stood, surrounding Charles's table.
The one who'd grabbed him, with short hair, stepped forward.
"Don't cross the line, Rian," he said, his tone menacing. "Look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you."
Another kid, taller with a slightly cleaner tunic, chimed in:
"Don't get cocky, old man. Things work a certain way here, and you're not changing them."
Charles finished his last bite of bread, wiping his hands on his tunic.
He eyed them calmly, though his heart picked up a bit inside.
What if he had to fight them all at once?
But he wasn't backing down. He stood, crossing his arms.
"I'm done eating," he said casually. "See you kids at the training field."
He took a step to leave, but the short-haired kid moved fast, trying to grab his shoulder and force him back down.
SWISH!
Charles dodged with a fluid spin, leaving the kid's hand grasping air.
"What the hell…?" the boy said aloud, stunned.
The dining hall's murmurs turned to gasps of shock.
Charles laughed, slipping his hands into his tunic pockets.
"With that speed, you'll never catch me," he said, smirking. "Better practice a bit."
The tension spiked. Several Aspirants who'd been eating set down their plates, and some nearby servants turned to watch.
Everyone was waiting to see if this would end in a brawl.
The short-haired kid, face red with rage, clenched his fists.
"You think you're hot stuff, huh?" he growled. "Let's see how long you last."
Charles raised his hands, still grinning.
"Look, I'll give you a shot," he said, his tone more taunt than offer. "Land one hit on me in a minute, and I'll obey you without a peep from now on. Deal?"
The kid didn't hesitate.
"Don't get too full of yourself," he spat, throwing a punch straight at Charles's face.
WHOOSH!
Charles, hands still in his pockets, tilted his head, dodging the blow by inches.
The kid tried another punch, this time at his stomach.
SWISH!
Charles sidestepped, moving so fast it made several onlookers' eyes widen.
"Come on, try again!" Charles said, laughing.
The kid, growing angrier, unleashed a flurry of punches, but Charles dodged them all with an ease that seemed almost inhuman.
The crowd, Aspirants and servants alike, murmured among themselves.
"He's toying with him!" a girl whispered.
"Look at how he moves!" another said.
The short-haired kid was panting, sweat dripping down his forehead.
His punches slowed, his frustration obvious.
Charles, still with hands in pockets, stepped close and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.
"Think that's been over a minute," he said mockingly. "See you at the training field, pal."
Without looking back, Charles strolled out of the dining hall, leaving the kid heaving and the others in stunned silence.
As soon as he was gone, the kid's peers erupted in murmurs.
"Who the hell is that old guy?" one growled, slamming the table.
The short-haired girl who'd sparked the conflict frowned.
"I heard he got in through Lira Cole," she said, her tone laced with envy and suspicion.
Another boy, in a more worn tunic, raised an eyebrow.
"Lira Cole? Isn't she the one who runs the arena?" he said, scratching his chin. "That guy must have something special if she brought him in."
The short-haired girl crossed her arms, a malicious smirk spreading.
"Special or not, we need to teach him a lesson," she said. "He can't waltz in here acting like he's better than us. We've been here longer; he needs to learn respect."
A few meters away, at a servants' table, the vibe was different.
A group of kids in white tunics whispered, confused.
"Doesn't that guy look like that loser Rian?" one said, pointing at the door Charles had exited.
Another servant, holding a tray, shook his head.
"No way," he said. "That Rian was nothing special. No chance he's an Aspirant now. Gotta be some other bastard who looks like him."
A younger servant frowned.
"But the way he moved… it didn't seem normal," he said, doubtful. "Maybe it is him, and we got it wrong."
The first one laughed, waving it off.
"Nah, man. That Rian was a mess. This guy's probably a cousin or something. Forget it."
◇◆◇
Meanwhile, Charles walked the clan's halls, guided by the system.
He'd activated a navigation function to reach the training field, and a blue panel floated before him, displaying an arrow pointing the way.
'I'm starting to love this feature,' he thought, grinning.
His muscles were still sore from the push-ups, but the adrenaline from dodging the kid in the dining hall kept him sharp.
He reached the training field, an open area with stone bleachers and a packed dirt circle in the center.
To his surprise, it was empty except for the instructor, standing with arms crossed, staring at the horizon.
The man turned at Charles's footsteps, raising an eyebrow, clearly shocked.
"Rian? You're here already?" he said, his tone a mix of disbelief and amusement. "Why didn't you come with the others?"
Charles shrugged, hands in his pockets.
"They were too slow eating," he said, flashing a confident grin. "Didn't wanna be late."
The instructor let out a short laugh, shaking his head.
"You're something else, kid," he said. Then he studied Charles more closely, like he was sizing him up. "Tell me… what's your element?"
Charles's stomach kn preocupação at the question.
Lira's warning echoed in his mind: he couldn't reveal he controlled lightning.
If anyone found out about his power, he could be in serious trouble.
"Uh… I don't have an element," he lied, scratching his neck. "Just good at fighting, I guess."
The instructor eyed him skeptically but didn't press.
"We'll see how long you last in training," he said, his tone more warning than casual remark.