The atmosphere was electric.
One hundred first-years stood assembled in the third-year training area—the top-ranked students who'd earned the right to challenge their seniors. They faced a mixed crowd: third-years who'd been held back after losing to their peers, second-years who'd advanced, and third-years who'd maintained their positions and were clearly irritated at having to face "children."
Arden stood near the front, observing the crowd with tactical assessment.
Different from the original timeline. They expanded it from top 30 to top 100 because our entire grade showed unprecedented growth.
More opportunities, but also more variables. Harder to predict outcomes.
"Did you prepare well?" Instructor Valen's voice cut through the murmuring.
"YES!" The first-years' response was unified, energetic.
They'd trained for this. Bled for this. The hellish months of preparation had led to this moment.
"We're going our separate ways soon," someone muttered nearby. "What a shame."
Arden glanced over. Several first-years were looking at him with expressions mixing respect and resignation.
They knew. He'd be advancing multiple grades. Flying ahead while most of them stayed behind.
He caught sight of Elara standing slightly apart, studying the third-years with calculating intensity. Brick stood with arms crossed, grin fierce and anticipating violence. Rykard waited in perfect stillness, three swords sheathed.
And Serra...
She stood at her usual distance from the main group, periwinkle-blue hair catching the morning light. Her practice sword was secured with characteristic precision.
As if sensing his attention, she turned.
Their eyes met briefly. Serra's expression remained neutral, but something softened around her eyes before she looked away—not quite hiding the faint color that rose in her cheeks.
Still keeping her distance. But maybe not as much as before.
"Hoo... can I do this?" someone whispered nervously.
"You have to."
"I can do it!"
"Yeah!"
The first-years psyched themselves up, energy building.
As the sun climbed higher, a professor stepped forward.
"All first-years will proceed to the second-year academy area. Follow your assigned instructor."
----
The walk between academy areas took them through a forested mountain path. The hundred first-years moved in loose formation, conversations flowing around nervous energy and anticipation.
Arden found himself naturally gravitating toward the quieter edge of the group—away from the loudest voices.
Serra was there too, walking alone as always.
For a moment, they walked in parallel silence. Not together, but not quite separate either.
"The third-years will try to intimidate us," Serra said suddenly, her voice quiet enough that only Arden could hear.
"Probably."
"It won't work on you."
It wasn't a question. Just a statement of fact, delivered with certainty.
Arden glanced at her. "What makes you say that?"
Serra's lips curved ever so slightly—not quite a smile, but close. "Because you don't intimidate easily. I've watched you face down instructors, monsters, and Brick's accumulated destruction without flinching."
"Observation skills are sharp."
"I pay attention." She paused, fingers unconsciously brushing the hilt of her sword—her nervous tell. "To things worth watching."
The comment hung in the air between them—ambiguous enough to be innocent, pointed enough to mean something.
Arden felt a small smile tug at his lips. "Should I be flattered or concerned that I'm being observed so closely?"
"Flattered," Serra said immediately, then seemed to realize what she'd admitted. The faint color returned to her cheeks. "I mean—it's tactical observation. Understanding how the strongest fighter operates is valuable for—"
"Serra."
She stopped talking, looking at him with those striking ice-blue eyes.
"You don't need to explain." His voice was gentle. "I don't mind."
Something shifted in her expression. Relief? The tension in her shoulders eased slightly—a tiny crack in her usual guarded posture.
They walked in comfortable silence for a few more steps.
"For what it's worth," Arden said, "I've been observing you too."
Serra stopped walking.
Just... stopped.
Her ice-blue eyes went wide, lips parting slightly in surprise. The faint blush that had been on her cheeks deepened to a visible pink that spread to the tips of her ears.
"You—" Her voice came out higher than usual. She cleared her throat. "You have?"
But before Arden could elaborate, Brick's voice boomed from ahead.
"OI! You two are falling behind! Stop having secret strategy meetings and catch up!"
The moment shattered.
Serra's walls immediately went back up—shoulders straightening, expression neutralizing—but the blush remained, betraying her composure.
They rejoined the group in silence, but Arden noticed Serra kept sneaking glances at him from the corner of her eye, her mind clearly racing.
What did he mean by that? He's been observing me? Just my fighting? Or... no, that's ridiculous. He meant tactically. Obviously. That's all. Right?
Her internal spiral was interrupted when a girl from the top 50—one of the few other female first-years Serra occasionally trained with—fell into step beside her.
"Somebodyyy likes you," the girl sang in a suggestive whisper, grinning widely.
Serra's blush, which had just started to fade, came roaring back. "What? No. We were just—it was tactical discussion—"
"Uh-huh. Sure. Tactical." The girl's grin widened. "Is that what we're calling it now? Because from where I was standing, that looked like flirting."
"It wasn't—we weren't—" Serra's usual eloquence completely abandoned her.
"He said he's been watching you," the girl continued, clearly enjoying herself. "That's basically a confession! Oh my god, Serra, the Rank 1 likes you!"
"Stop," Serra hissed, her face now completely red. "You're misunderstanding. He was talking about combat observation. Training analysis."
"Right, right. Combat observation." The girl nodded sagely. "So when are you guys getting married?"
Serra nearly tripped over her own feet. "WHAT?!"
"I'm just asking! I want to know if I should start shopping for a gift. How many kids are you planning? Three? Four?"
"I'm going to freeze your mouth shut," Serra threatened, but her voice lacked any real menace—too flustered to be intimidating.
"Ooh, so violent! I bet that's what attracted him. The mysterious ice princess who never talks to anyone but makes exceptions for—"
"Please stop talking," Serra pleaded, covering her burning face with her hands.
The girl laughed but mercifully dropped the subject as they caught up with the main group.
But the damage was done.
Serra's mind was now completely scrambled, replaying Arden's words over and over.
"I've been observing you too."
What did that mean? Just fighting? He observes everyone's fighting. That's what good tacticians do. It doesn't mean anything special.
But the way he said it... the way he looked at me...
No. Stop. This is ridiculous. We're about to fight ranking battles. Focus on that. Focus on anything except—
"Serra? You okay?"
She looked up to find Arden watching her with concern. "Your face is really red. Are you feeling sick?"
"I'm FINE," Serra said too quickly, too loudly. Several nearby first-years turned to look.
She wanted the ground to swallow her whole.
Arden's concern deepened. "If you're not feeling well, you should tell the instructors. They might postpone your match—"
"I said I'm fine!" Serra turned away sharply, unable to meet his eyes. "Just... focus on your own match. Don't worry about me."
She practically fled to the far edge of the group, leaving Arden looking confused and concerned.
Smooth, Serra. Really smooth. Now he thinks you're sick AND acting strange.
She buried her face in her hands again.
From across the group, her friend caught her eye and made exaggerated kissing motions.
Serra was going to murder her. Slowly. With ice.
----
When they arrived, Serra made sure to position herself far away from both Arden and her insufferable friend.
She needed space to think. To process. To stop her heart from racing every time she remembered that conversation.
He's been observing me. What does that mean? Stop overthinking. You're being ridiculous.
But her treacherous mind kept circling back to it. The way he'd smiled when he said it. The gentleness in his voice when he'd told her she didn't need to explain.
"Ayaa~ Our juniors are finally here."
The mocking voice snapped her back to reality.
A third-year student stepped forward with exaggerated welcome—tall, confident, clearly trying to intimidate them.
A professor immediately intercepted him. "Stop. Provocations are only allowed once matches begin."
The third-year stepped back, smirking.
Focus, Serra told herself firmly. Ranking battles. That's what matters right now. Not... whatever that was.
The first-years gathered under a large tree. Serra deliberately chose a spot that maintained her usual distance—close enough to hear discussions but not close enough for private conversations.
Safe distance. That's what she needed.
"The third-years have poor attitudes," Arden observed quietly.
Serra nodded, not trusting her voice.
Elara approached with Brick and Rykard.
"That third-year Rank 1 is the one you'll fight first, right?" Elara asked Arden.
"Most likely."
"Don't lose," Serra said before she could stop herself.
Everyone turned to look at her.
She forced herself to maintain composure despite the attention. "You're better than him. Losing would be... disappointing."
Professional. See? You can do this without being weird.
"It's not confidence," she continued, carefully not looking directly at Arden. "It's observation. I've watched his training and—"
She stopped abruptly, realizing what she'd just said.
I've watched his training. Great. Now it sounds like you're stalking him.
Her face heated again.
Brick laughed, oblivious. "She's got confidence in you!"
"I just meant—from an analytical standpoint—" Serra was making it worse. She could feel it.
"Well, I'll make sure not to disappoint then," Arden said, his tone warm.
Serra risked a glance at him and immediately regretted it. He was looking at her with that gentle expression again. The one that made her chest feel funny.
She looked away quickly. "Good."
Her friend appeared out of nowhere, sliding up beside her with a knowing grin.
"Stop it," Serra hissed under her breath.
"I didn't say anything," the girl whispered back, still grinning.
"Your face is saying plenty."
"My face is just admiring young love blooming—"
Serra created a small spike of ice and held it threateningly close to her friend's face. "Finish that sentence and see what happens."
The girl retreated, laughing silently.
As they settled in to wait for the matches to begin, Serra tried to calm her racing thoughts.
This is ridiculous. You're being ridiculous. You're reading too much into a simple comment. Focus on the ranking battles. Focus on your own match. Focus on anything except—
"Serra?"
She jumped slightly, turning to find Arden standing nearby.
"Are you sure you're feeling okay? You've been acting strange since we arrived."
"I'm fine," she said automatically. Then, softer, "Just... nervous. About the matches."
It was partially true. She was nervous. Just not about the matches.
Arden's expression softened. "You'll do well. Your technique is flawless."
"Thank you."
An awkward pause.
"I meant what I said earlier," Arden continued. "About observing you. Your ice magic refinement is remarkable. The way you layer your mana is—"
Oh. Oh no. He's elaborating. He's making it worse without realizing it.
"—really efficient. I've been trying to apply some of your principles to my own techniques."
Serra's brain short-circuited.
He'd been watching her magic work. Studying it. Trying to learn from her.
"You... you've been studying my techniques?" Her voice came out embarrassingly small.
"When I can. You don't usually practice around others, so I don't get many opportunities. But when you do..." He smiled. "It's worth watching."
WORTH WATCHING. HE SAID IT'S WORTH WATCHING.
Serra's face was on fire. She was certain of it. Actually on fire.
"I... that's... thank you?" She wanted to disappear. Possibly forever.
"First match participants, prepare yourselves!"
Serra had never been so grateful for an interruption in her entire life.
Arden checked his equipment, then looked at her one more time.
"Wish me luck?"
"You don't need luck," Serra managed, forcing her voice to steady. "You're better than him."
"Still. I'd like to hear it."
Their eyes met.
"Good luck," Serra said softly. "Win."
Arden smiled—warm and genuine—then walked toward the combat zone.
Serra stood frozen, watching him go.
Her friend appeared again, this time joined by two other girls from their cohort.
"Sooo cute," one whispered.
"When's the wedding?" another added.
"How many kids?"
"I'm going to freeze all of you," Serra threatened weakly, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from Arden's retreating figure.
What is happening to me?
---
"First-year Rank 1. Third-year Rank 1. Step forward."
Arden moved into position.
From the observation area, Serra watched with complete focus—face still flushed, heart still racing, mind still scrambling to process everything.
But beneath the embarrassment and confusion, one thought crystallized with perfect clarity:
I want to see him win. Not because I need to analyze his techniques. Not because it's tactically valuable.
Just because... I want to see him succeed.
That realization should have scared her.
Instead, it settled warm and certain in her chest.
"First-year Rank 1. Arden Valekrest. Twelve years old."
"Third-year Rank 1. Caden Vross. Sixteen years old."
Perfunctory bows.
"Ready."
Caden stood leisurely, not even bothering with proper form. "Don't be too nervous, kid. I'll go easy on you."
Arden's expression remained neutral. "Will you?"
"What kind of senior would I be if I crushed a junior too badly? You're just a child."
"Then maybe you should worry about yourself instead."
Caden's expression darkened. "Excuse me?"
"Stop talking and take your stance. Empty words don't prove skill."
Serra found herself smiling despite her flustered state.
That's the Arden I know. Confident. Capable. Worth watching.
Wait. Worth watching? Did I just—
Her friend elbowed her gently. "You're smiling."
"Shut up."
"You're blushing AND smiling."
"I will literally freeze you solid."
"Worth it," the girl whispered. "This is adorable."
"Start!"