The air in the training hall shimmered faintly from the density of mana.
Mila stood at the center of the ring, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp like a sword sheathed but ready to strike at any moment.
Around her, the S-Class students stood in formation, smirking and stretching.
Some summoned their weapons; others cracked their knuckles or chanted faint enchantments.
"All right," Mila said calmly, rolling her shoulder. "No holding back. Come at me all at once."
A murmur rippled through the class.
"Is she serious?"
"She's gonna regret that…"
"An F-Class teacher challenging us?"
One of the students a tall boy with crimson hair and glowing sigils on his arms grinned wide. "Fine by me, Miss Mila. You asked for it!"
He dashed forward, his blade trailing sparks of lightning. Mila sidestepped effortlessly, catching his wrist mid-swing and twisting.
The next moment, crack!- he was on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, sword clattering away.
The others froze briefly, surprised.
Then all at once they attacked.
Spells, elemental blasts, and physical strikes collided toward Mila like a storm. But her movements blurred; she ducked, parried, countered her precision terrifyingly surgical.
Every hit she landed wasn't just strength it was intent. Every motion carried the grace of someone who had fought wars, not duels.
Soon, the training floor was filled with the echoes of collapsing barriers and panting students.
But something inside Mila was stirring.
That cold calm began to melt replaced by a heat she hadn't felt in a long time.
A thrill.
Her pulse quickened, her lips curling slightly as she caught another student's blade barehanded and shattered it with a single twist of mana.
She didn't even notice when her golden eyes flickered faintly
not into maroon or dragon-slit black,
but into a fierce, almost hungry light.
"More," she whispered under her breath, stepping forward.
Her aura surged outward, the tiles beneath her feet cracking.
The students backed away instantly, alarm flashing in their faces.
"What- what is this pressure!?"
"She's- she's insane!"
Mila grinned slightly, adrenaline burning in her veins.
"Didn't you say you were monsters?" she said softly. "Then fight like it!"
She lunged forward, moving faster than most could even react. A single swing of her arm sent a shockwave through the hall desks and practice dummies blasted aside like leaves in a storm.
Her voice carried over the roaring mana, low and sharp.
"Don't mock battle, children live it."
Then suddenly-
"Enough!"
A deep, commanding voice rang out across the hall.
The mana shattered like glass, dissipating instantly.
Standing by the entrance were two figures: the Headmistress, and beside her, the Sage.
The Sage's expression was unreadable, though his aura pressed down subtly, suppressing the chaos Mila had unleashed.
The Headmistress, however, looked concerned almost disappointed.
"Mila," she said firmly, stepping forward. "That's enough."
Mila blinked, the battle haze slowly fading from her eyes. She looked around the students were scattered, exhausted, most unable to stand.
Her chest rose and fell heavily. The faint smirk that had lingered on her lips vanished.
"…Apologies," she said quietly, lowering her head. "I got… carried away."
The Headmistress sighed softly, turning to the students. "That will be all for today. Class S is dismissed."
They hesitated, still shaken, but quickly began leaving some glancing back at Mila in awe, others in silent fear.
As the hall emptied, the Sage approached her, his voice calm but heavy.
"You've been suppressing something, haven't you?" he said. "That power isn't ordinary and neither is that thirst I saw in your eyes."
Mila turned away slightly. "I just… enjoy a good fight."
"Enjoyment," he repeated quietly. "Or craving?"
Her jaw tensed, but she didn't answer.
The Headmistress placed a gentle hand on the Sage's arm, stopping him. "Enough. She knows what she's done."
Then she looked to Mila. "Control yourself next time, Instructor. Even monsters can learn restraint."
Mila stood there for a moment, silent.
Then she bowed slightly, her tone subdued.
"Yes, Headmistress."
As they left, she looked down at her hand still faintly trembling from the afterglow of combat.
The warmth of battle lingered in her veins, impossible to ignore.
And deep within her mind… a faint echo stirred
a laugh, ancient and familiar, whispering like a distant memory.
"So you still love the fight… my queen."