The next morning, Aiden returned to class.
He stood outside the door, staring at the handle. Voices filtered through the wood; laughter, scattered conversation. He knew what was waiting for him.
He pulled in a slow breath, held it, then pushed the door open.
The noise hit him first. Then the mimicry.
Someone made exaggerated crying sounds. Another joined in. Laughter rippled across the room.
Aiden kept his eyes on the floor and walked straight to his seat.
There was a piece of paper glued to his desk. Crude drawing in black ink—stick figure, another smaller figure on its shoulder with wings. Arrows pointing at the bigger figure with the word *BABYSITTER* scrawled underneath.
He peeled it off without looking at it and shoved it to the side.
"Hey, Aiden."
Korrin's voice, loud and smug.
"Where'd you leave your baby? You're supposed to be babysitting now, aren't you?"
The class erupted.
Aiden's jaw tightened. He turned his head slightly, just enough to glance in Korrin's direction.
Joren was sitting beside him, leaning back in his chair. His eyes were on Aiden, cold and Focused. A white bandage stretched across his nose.
Aiden looked away.
*He's planning something. I know he is.*
Summoning a decent beast would've given him a buffer. Something to make Joren think twice. But no. He got what he got.
"I actually like your summon."
The voice was flat, matter-of-fact.
Aiden blinked and turned.
Seris was looking at him, her expression still unreadable. "I think it's cool."
He stared at her for a second, caught off guard. Then shook his head slightly, forcing himself to respond. "Uh. Thanks." His voice came out quieter than he meant. "I just wish it could've been better."
"Your summon is unique," she said. "I think you'll find a use for it eventually." She paused. "Some summons aren't bad. They're just being applied in the wrong place."
Aiden didn't know what to do with that. He nodded once and turned back toward the front of the room.
A few moments later, the door opened again.
Professor Veylan stepped inside, carrying a stack of papers under one arm. The class quieted down. They went through the usual greeting, then everyone settled.
Veylan set the papers on his desk. "There won't be much of a lecture today." He glanced around the room. "In light of yesterday's ceremony, the academy wants to assess the newly awakened students. So today, we're doing combat lessons."
A few people perked up. Others exchanged grins.
Dace raised his hand.
"Yes?" Veylan said.
"Sir, I think there's been a misunderstanding." Dace's tone was light, but his grin was sharp. "There's a babysitter in our midst who seems to think he's awakened."
Laughter broke out again, louder this time.
Veylan's expression hardened. "That's enough."
The room went quiet.
He turned to Aiden. "You'll be training with your class, not the freshmen."
Aiden's stomach dropped.
*Joren.*
Joren would love this. He'd drag it out. Make it hurt.
Aiden gave a stiff nod.
"All right," Veylan continued. "The bell should—"
The bell rang.
"—be ringing now. Everyone, file out to the combat arena."
The students Voices rose and they grabbed their things and headed for the door, some already talking strategy, others hyping themselves up.
Aiden stood slowly. He lifted his gaze and found Joren watching him, mouthing the words- watch out.
*What's a C-rank going to do in a fight?* He thought to himself.
Nothing. That's what.
-----
Aiden stood at the edge of the arena, arms crossed, watching two students square off in the center.
The space was huge—open dirt floor, high stone walls, tiered seating around the perimeter. Sunlight poured down from above, casting sharp shadows across the ground.
To his right stood Seris.
Her summon was already beside her — the Crystal Fox Oracle, an S-rank nine-tailed variant. It was small and sleek, its white fur catching the light in soft crystal tones. Silver eyes watched quietly, steady and unreadable, while faint glass-like shards shimmered along its ears and tails. The air around it felt a little colder, not harsh… just enough to remind you that this creature wasn't ordinary.
It sat at Seris's feet, still as a statue.
To his left stood Joren.
His summon loomed beside him. The Ironscale Drake. A-rank. Not a full dragon, but close enough to turn heads. Its scales were dark gray, plated like armor, and smoke curled faintly from its nostrils. It shifted its weight, claws scraping against the dirt, tail swishing behind it.
Joren's hand rested on its flank. He looked relaxed. Confident.
Aiden stared at the arena floor and said nothing.
"You're not the one I want to fight," Joren said, his voice carrying easily across the arena. He rolled his shoulders like he was warming up for a casual workout rather than a match. He glanced at Seris, then shrugged. "But if you're the one I've been given, I have no choice but to give it my all."
He cracked his knuckles, a grin tugging at his mouth. The kind meant for the crowd as much as his opponent. "Consider it an opportunity. I've been wanting to test the extent of my beast's power. So don't take whatever happens here personally." He paused, tilting his head as if he was weighing his own words. "Actually, scratch that. Take it however you want. Won't change the outcome."
A few people in the stands snickered. Shoes scraped against stone seating. Someone coughed. The noise felt distant.
Seris didn't answer. She just watched him, her face quiet, unreadable, like she'd already filed the moment away as routine. Her hands hung loosely at her sides. No stance.
Joren's grin widened. "Silent type, huh? That's fine. Actions speak louder anyway."
He stepped back and gestured to his drake.
The Ironscale Drake surged forward with a roar, it's claws ripping through the dirt. The ground trembled under its weight. Its body was all hard lines and momentum, scales catching the afternoon light in dull metallic patches.
Seris didn't move. Didn't speak. Her breathing stayed even.
Then the Crystal Fox Oracle moved.
It slipped sideways in a blur of white, tails fanning out behind it with a soft, airy motion.
The drake lunged at it, but the fox was already gone by the time it got there. It skimmed along the ground like it understood the arena's dips and grooves better than anyone watching.
The drake pivoted, muscles knotting beneath its plated scales. Smoke leaked from its nostrils. A heartbeat later, it exhaled flames that swept across the dirt in a wide, angry arc. Heat washed over the front rows. Someone in the stands flinched.
The fox leapt straight through the fire and landed on the drake's back.
Its claws glowed a pale, winter-blue. It raked across the narrow overlap of scales at the neck. Ice spread from the strike in thin branching lines, creeping outward like cracks in cold glass.
The drake roared and thrashed, tail smacking the ground hard enough to kick up dust.
But the fox was already gone, returning to Seris's side with a relaxed posture, as if it had only taken a few steps and nothing more.
The drake staggered and It's movements became slow.
Joren cursed under his breath. "Break out of it."