Sorel arrives at his dorm.
After his encounter with Diego earlier, Sorel forcefully entered the headmistress's office. Yes, he got yelled at, but he also managed to get himself some useful information. Even though he could have waited a couple of days to find out. Diego seemed to have fired up something within Sorel.
Sorel reads the sign on top of the door. Dorm 105. It read. Sorel took a deep breath, opening the door. Inside, there were 2 beds. The red bed was nicely kept, probably Sorel's. On the other side was a purple bed that wasn't very clean. There were snacks on top of it and messy clothes as well.
"Seems like my roommate isn't very... Human." He sighed. He walked up to his bed. Underneath it were some cabinets. When he opened them up, he was shocked to find 3 sets of academy clothes. 2 of them were the normal white, but one of them was black.
The window in the middle of the room was open, allowing a pleasant, cool breeze to enter. Sorel sat down and instantly relaxed. He was surprised at how smooth it was. After all, he's never felt silk before, as only rich people could afford it.
Sorel stared at the floor.
He scratched his hair. "Guess I have nothing to do today. I'll go explore the courtyard, I guess." Sorel stands up. He was about to walk out the door when he remembered something. "I have to take a shower."
Sorel sniffs himself. "Guess that time passed out on the hospital bed made me smell."
After a while, Sorel walks out of the dorms. He put on a white sweatshirt and black jeans. He didn't have school today. "Okay." Sorel stopped walking. He scratched his hair, looking side to side. "Where's the courtyard?"
A cold breeze brushed past him, tugging at the loose hem of his sweatshirt. Sorel exhaled, the faint puff of breath dissolving into the morning air. The campus was quieter than he expected—no rushing footsteps, no chatter, just the distant hum of something mechanical and the occasional rustle of leaves.
"…Seriously," he muttered.
He turned in a slow circle. To his left, a long stone path stretched between two identical buildings. To his right, iron railings bordered a narrow garden he definitely didn't remember seeing yesterday.
As Sorel was about to give up, he caught something at the tip of his ears. In the distance, he heard chatter and the sound of metal clashing. Probably swords.
He followed the noise down a narrow path hidden behind a line of hedges. With each step, the sounds grew clearer—commands being barked, someone groaning in complaint, the rhythmic clash of steel meeting steel.
He stopped at the edge of an open field.
His eyes widened.
A group of students stood spread out across the grass, dressed not in uniforms, but in training gear—leather padding, gloves, and weapons gleaming under the sun. Swords. Actual swords. Some dull, some frighteningly sharp.
At the center, two figures were locked in a spar.
Their blades collided, sparks flying as one pushed the other back. The watching crowd erupted into cheers and groans, clearly taking sides.
Sorel swallowed.
"They're on another level." The two sparrers we're going toe to toe. When one attacked, the other parried. The taller one, a boy with curly, golden hair, was definitely better at offense. But the short boy with smooth, blue hair was better at defence and parrying most of the attacks.
The crowd was yelling louder than before. Kids left and right yelling at each other and throwing bets. "Are they even taking this seriously?" Sorel wondered. "Is it every day that they risk their lives and fight with real swords?" Out of what seemed to be nowhere, Sorel felt a cold hand at the back of his shoulder. No, it couldn't be. The hands from the village couldn't have followed him here. Could they?
But this time was different. He could move. Sorel quickly turned around, his eyes narrow and his hands trembling. "I won't let you scare me-" Sorel growled, but not at arms. It was Diego who was confused.
"I didn't mean to scare you," Diego chuckled. "I thought you heard me." Diego stretched his arms. "Anyways, I didn't know I'd run into you here."
I look him up and down.
"I didn't hear you. Are you always this silent?" Sorel inquired. Diego raised his eyebrow.
"Silent? I was walking normally. I walk like everyone else." He smirked. "If you want to find silent people, look at those two." Diego pointed at the two who were still sparring toe to toe. Sorel looked back at Diego.
"I didn't even." Sorel's eyes widened. Whenever the people around him strolled by, he couldn't hear them. Only their voices. Even if they were close to him. Sorel realized then and there. These nobles were on another level.
Sorel stared at Diego. He opened his mouth to speak. "So, who are those two?" He inquired, staring at the spar that just ended with the taller one's victory. Diego turned to face them and smiled.
"The short boy's name is Reinhard Tomori. The taller one's name is León de Neffaro." He said, Sorel heard the slight pain in Deigo's voice when he spoke about León. And he understood why.
"León. He's your brother, right?" Diego's expression faltered, the light in his eyes dimming just a little.
"Yeah. He's my older brother." He looks at León, who is chatting with a lot of pretty girls. "He's the golden child of my house. And I'm just the useless troublemaker." Diego groaned. Sorel stood there, trying to think of a way to comfort Diego.
"Hey. In my opinion, you're cooler than that León dude." He tries to comfort Diego, but it doesn't work.
"That's what all my friends say. But the truth is the truth. He's better than me in every way." He mumbles. Suddenly, he starts chuckling. "Except humor, of course!"
The sound was light—but it didn't reach his eyes.
He lifted a hand and wiped beneath one eye, pretending it was nothing. "I mean, can you imagine León trying to tell a joke? He'd probably announce it like a royal decree."
That earned a small pause.
Then his shoulders slumped.
"But…" Diego's voice softened, the grin fading as quickly as it came. "That's not something that actually matters here, is it?"
He glanced sideways, avoiding eye contact. The usual spark was gone, replaced by something raw and tired.
"People don't remember the funny one," he muttered. "They remember the strongest. The smartest. The one who wins."
For a moment, the air between them felt heavier.
Diego inhaled slowly, forcing another crooked smile. "Guess I just got stuck being the punchline." As Sorel approached to comfort Diego, a large explosion happened at the front gate, not too far from the courtyard.
BOOM.
The ground lurched beneath them.
A thunderous explosion ripped through the air from the direction of the front gate, shockwaves rolling across the courtyard. Birds scattered into the sky as screams followed, sharp and panicked.
"What the—" Sorel spun around.
Smoke rose in a thick, black column, curling into the sky like a warning.
Then they saw them.
Figures poured through the shattered gate, boots crunching against broken stone. Masked men with black cloaks on—dozens of them—spread out with frightening coordination. Some carried blades. Others held weapons Sorel couldn't immediately recognize, metal etched with symbols that glowed faintly red.
Students froze. Someone shouted to run, and some did.
No one managed to move fast enough.
The masked men parted.
And from the center of all of them, she stepped forward.
Long, crimson hair spilled down her back like fire, untouched by the dust and smoke around her. She wore a dark coat trimmed with gold, her posture relaxed, confident. Commanding. Like this place already belonged to her.
She stopped at the edge of the courtyard.
Her eyes burned a sharp, unnatural red that shone through her mask.
"Well," the red-haired woman said, her voice carrying effortlessly across the courtyard, "this academy hasn't changed at all since the last time I was here."