"Time's up."
A deafening roar echoed across the training ground, silencing the chaos of chatter and footsteps. The ground vibrated faintly as Instructor Blade returned to the center, his presence pulling every pair of eyes back to him.
His boots scraped against the dirt as he stopped in the middle, holding a wooden practice sword. He crouched slightly, pressed the tip into the ground, and dragged a crude circle around himself. Then, with deliberate mockery, he tossed the sword aside.
"I see you've managed to form your teams," he said, his voice carrying a mix of authority and disdain. "Here's how this works: each team will have five minutes. All you need to do-" he tapped his foot inside the circle "-is force me out of here."
He scanned the faces of the gathered students, his lips curling into a smirk that dripped with contempt.
"I don't expect any of you to succeed. The stench of weakness clings to this place. So, do your best... and entertain me."
He punctuated his words by pointing at the first team. "You start."
---
On the sidelines, Isaac tilted his head back and suddenly burst out laughing. A sharp, unrestrained sound that cut through the tense silence.
Ren, Arnold, and Trish all turned immediately, eyes wide.
Ren frowned, her voice hesitant. "Isaac... are you okay?"
Arnold scratched his neck nervously. "Y-you're Isaac, right? You don't sound... okay."
Even Trish, usually expressionless, tilted her head slightly, her gaze sharp but questioning.
Isaac's laughter slowed, and he straightened his back. His face shifted. He wasn't wearing his usual dead-eyed mask anymore. Instead, a smile spread across his lips - wide, innocent, almost childlike. Too perfect. Too clean.
He lifted his thumb and casually pointed it toward the instructor.
"Did you guys hear that?" he said softly, voice sweet as honey. "He called me weak."
Ren immediately stiffened. She knew. That smile wasn't real. That smile was dangerous.
"N-no, no, no," she stammered quickly, trying to steady the mood. "He called everyone weak. Not you specifically."
But Isaac wasn't listening. His eyes gleamed with something unsteady, and his smile never wavered.
"And he also said..." he tilted his head, grin widening, "...that I should entertain him. Did you hear that too?"
Arnold swallowed, his voice uncertain. "I-I don't think he meant you-"
Isaac cut him off, still smiling like an angel, his tone suddenly light, almost playful.
"Let's break his bones," he said. "And cripple him."
The words hung in the air like venom.
Ren's hand tightened into a fist at her side. Arnold froze, unsure whether to laugh or back away. Trish's eyes narrowed, a spark of something unreadable passing through them.
The three of them didn't need to say it aloud. The thought passed through all their minds at the same time.
Was teaming up with this crazy bastard the right choice?