The violence of the illusion snapped like a broken string, leaving behind a silence so heavy it felt like lead.
Claire lay twisted in the dirt, her ashen spear several yards away, her consciousness claimed by the golden impact Serena had unknowingly delivered. Serena herself was pinned to the ground, gasping for air, her hands trembling as they hovered over the obsidian hilt protruding from her stomach. There was blood pouring out of the wound.
Henry stood over her, the darkness in his eyes slowly receding, replaced by that familiar, tired apathy. He looked down at her not with malice, but with a chilling detachment.
"You have the power," Henry said, his voice no longer metallic but still carrying the weight of a graveyard. "But you don't have the stomach. If you want to be Heroes, You all have a long, bloody way to go."
Henry reached down and gripped the hilt of the black dagger. With a flick of his wrist, the weapon dissolved into harmless smoke, leaving Serena's uniform torn and red from her blood. He didn't offer her a hand up.
He turned and began to walk toward the exit of the training grounds. The students who had been whispering moments ago scrambled backward, clearing a wide path for him. They looked at him like he was a live wire—something that could kill them if they even breathed too loudly.
Henry stopped beside Caspian, who was still gripping his notebook, his jaw set in a hard line.
"I'm done for the day," Henry muttered, as he reached into his pocket for a cigarette. "Evaluate the rest of them if you want, but don't bother sending me the reports. I've seen enough 'potential' to last me a lifetime."
Caspian glanced at the two broken girls on the field, then back at Henry. "You went a bit far, don't you think? That wasn't a lesson, Henry. That was a haunting."
Henry didn't look back. He just raised a hand in a lazy wave as he disappeared into the shadow as he left the forest area. "Then they'll remember it better this way. I'm going to go find something to drink."
5.30 pm Infirmary
The antiseptic scent of the infirmary hung heavy in the 5:30 PM sunlight, which filtered through the high windows in long, amber streaks.
Serena's eyes fluttered open to the rhythmic thump-thump of a heart monitor. The phantom pain of the black dagger was gone, leaving only a hollow, cold ache in her chest. She turned her head slowly, finding Claire in the adjacent bed. The commoner girl wasn't resting; she was propped up against a mountain of pillows, casually flipping through a thick, leather-bound book.
"Hey," Serena croaked, her throat dry. "I... I'm sorry about that last strike. I should have seen through it. I should have known he was playing us."
Claire looked over the top of her book, a small, genuine smile tugging at her lips. "Don't beat yourself up, Serena. You were a hell of a partner—and a terrifyingly strong one. I didn't even see that golden sword coming until it was already over me." She paused, her expression darkening. "It wasn't your fault. Our opponent was just... stupidly, impossibly strong."
Serena let out a weak, frustrated chuckle. "Stage Ⅳ. That's what his file says. How is he only a Stage Ⅳ? He manifested a dozen abilities in ten minutes and I still don't think he even broke a sweat. He was holding back the entire time."
"And he's a total asshole," Claire added with a laugh. "Stabs you then gives a cryptic 'lesson,' and just walks off to find a drink? If that's what a Colonel looks like, I might want a career change. But," she sighed, closing her book, "he was right. We're still green."
Serena shifted her gaze to the other side of the room. The infirmary was surprisingly full. Arthur sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at his bandaged hands. Rowan was sprawled out next to him, a bag of ice pressed to his shoulder. Ben lay further down, his face buried in a pillow, groaning loud enough to be heard in the hallway.
"How did the rest of you end up here?" Serena asked, confused. "I thought Henry left."
Rowan lifted the ice pack, revealing a nasty bruise. "Henry left. Caspian didn't. We thought the 'nice' instructor would give us a break, but once Henry walked off, Caspian turned into a different person. He took us on in pairs of two and just... dismantled us."
Ben's muffled voice came from the pillow. "I thought I'd finally surpassed my brother. I thought I was ready. I wasn't even a speed bump for him."
Rowan chuckled bitterly. "Caspian didn't even go easy on Ben, and they're blood. It was brutal. No illusions, no fancy mind games—just raw, overwhelming force."
At the far end of the ward, Michael sat in absolute silence. His eyes were fixed on the floor.
"Michael?" Serena called out softly. "How are you feeling?"
he sighed, his shoulders slumped. "I shouldn't have jumped in while he was dealing with Kaelen," he whispered. "I thought I knew what a fight looked like. I was wrong."
The heavy doors of the infirmary swung open, and Layla practically skipped into the room, her cheerful aura clashing violently with the gloomy atmosphere of the ward.
"Hey! Look at the survivors!" she chirped, grinning at the row of beds.
Serena groaned, sinking back into her pillows. "What are you so happy about? Did you miss the memo? We all got crushed."
Layla leaned against the foot of Serena's bed, looking triumphant. "Well, firstly, I'm happy I didn't get my face kicked in like Rowan and Ben. And secondly..." she paused for dramatic effect, "I actually got to fight Henry one-on-one so I'm happy."
Serena's eyes snapped open, a flash of genuine regret crossing her face. "Yeah I remember you went first"
"Yup! While you were all standing there not wanting to go first," Layla laughed. "I figured I'd get my licks in before he got serious. It was... enlightening."
Serena sighed deeply. "I should have gone first. I thought if I watched him fight others, I could gather enough data to find a weakness. I didn't realize that seeing him fight just makes him more dangerous."
The infirmary doors didn't just open; they hit the walls with a thunderous crack that made the heart monitors spike. Morgana marched in, her eyes flashing like a storm front. Trailing behind her, Henry and Caspian looked like two schoolboys being hauled to the principal's office.
Morgana stopped in the center of the ward, her gaze sweeping over the sea of bandages, ice packs, and pale faces. She turned slowly to the two men, her voice dropping into a dangerously quiet register.
"What," she began, each word a cold chip of ice, "were you two idiots thinking? Truly. I want to walk through the logic of why you decided to turn the first day of the Class into a casualty ward."
Henry immediately pointed a lazy finger at Caspian. "Technically, it was his idea to keep going."
Caspian's head snapped toward him, eyes wide. "What? Since when was it my idea? You're the one who turned the clearing into a psychological horror movie!"
"Do you realize," Morgana shouted, her patience finally snapping, "that there are two infirmaries filled with beaten-up students? What part of 'introductory spar' did you translate into 'industrial-grade beatdown'?"
Both men suddenly found the ceiling tiles incredibly fascinating. They stood in a synchronized, guilty silence as Morgana turned back to the students, her expression softening into genuine concern. "How are you all feeling?"
Serena saw the opening before anyone else. She slumped back into her pillows, her hand fluttering to her forehead as she let out a long, theatrical wail.
"Oh... it still hurts," she groaned, her voice trembling with mock fragility. "I always thought the instructors at this academy were supposed to be the ones protecting us. I didn't realize we were being sent to a slaughterhouse."
Claire didn't miss a beat. She set her book down and clutched her side, wincing as if every breath was a struggle. "Yeah... it's the agony, really. This was only our first class. I'm honestly terrified to see what the next one is like. Is this a school or a combat trial with no survivors?"
Inspired, the rest of the ward joined in. Ben let out a low, guttural moan; Rowan started rubbing his shoulder with a pained grimace; even Michael looked away as if the memory was too much to bear.
Morgana's face twisted with guilt. "I am so deeply sorry," she told the room. "I assure you, there will never be another class conducted with this level of... negligence."
Serena looked up, her eyes wide and "misty." "You don't have to apologize, Miss Morgana. It wasn't you who stabbed me or treated us like targets. But the two people who actually did it... well, they haven't said a word."
Henry muttered under his breath, "You little manipulator..."
Morgana whipped around, her eyes narrowing at the two men. "Apologize. Now."
"I'm not apologizing for doing my job," Caspian said, crossing his arms defiantly.
"Yeah," Henry backed him up, leaning against the doorframe. "It's a pedagogy. High-stress environments breed high-level heroes."
Behind them, the groans from the beds grew louder. Ben let out a particularly pathetic sob. Morgana's aura flared, the air in the room turning heavy with a heat that had nothing to do with power.
"If you two don't apologize right now," Morgana hissed, "I am taking both of you out to the training grounds. Since you love sparring so much, I'll personally help you work on your technique. One-on-two. No holding back."
Henry and Caspian shared a look. The memory of Morgana's combat prowess—and her fighting style—cleared their pride instantly.
Henry let out a short, nervous laugh. "Now, Caspian... looking at them again, we did go a bit overboard. It's only right we show some professional courtesy."
"You know what, Henry? You're absolutely right," Caspian chuckled, his voice rising an octave. "We were clearly too caught up in the heat of the moment!"
Henry turned to the students, bowing his head with mock solemnity. "I'm very sorry for the... excessive nature of the lesson. I should never have taken it that far."
Caspian followed suit with a stiff, formal nod. "Yes. I'm deeply sorry for the injuries sustained. It won't happen again."
Serena and Claire shared a look of pure, unadulterated triumph as the two most dangerous men in the academy stood there, thoroughly humbled by a single woman