The teacher began delivering his grand speech about the "grandeur of magic" and its vital importance in this filthy world.
Empty, resonant words flowed from his mouth while I watched him with a face as frozen as a marble mask.
It wasn't his philosophy that occupied my mind, but rather those suspicious gazes following me from every corner of the hall; confused, anxious looks, as if my presence here constituted a flaw in their perfect system.
Beside me, Christoph seemed to be in another world, pouring his full focus into the lesson, his eyes tracing the teacher's movements with a precision that sparked my wonder.
The teacher broke my train of thought as he placed a massive emerald stone on the lab table, his features radiating pride as he said:
"Let each of you step forward and try to dismantle this stone. It is one of the hardest stones in existence, and its structure is impossible to break except with intense magical energy, reinforced to the highest degrees."
I couldn't help myself; a mocking laugh, short and sharp, burst from my mouth, echoing in the silence that followed his words.
Christoph turned to me quickly, and I met his gaze with coldness, saying in a voice audible only to him:
"Since he knows for certain that it's impossible for students like you to break it, why this absurdity? Is it a show of force or a waste of time?"
He answered me in a low voice, wrapped in a rare tone of sarcasm I hadn't witnessed in him before:
"It seems he found nothing useful to teach us today, so he decided to play with rocks."
I snorted mockingly as I leaned back in my seat, watching the farcical display before me.
Students began stepping forward one by one, giving it their all, emptying every bit of magical energy they possessed into their palms, hoping the stone would yield.
I saw the veins on their foreheads bulge, and their faces turn crimson, but the stone remained steadfast, deaf, showing not even a simple scratch to console their efforts.
The scene was pitiful; a bunch of "elite" trying to prove their superiority over an inanimate object, while I, the
"daughter of the Ash Outskirts,"
knew well that power doesn't always need colored auras to leave a mark.
Everyone's attempts ended, and the hall buzzed with the students' panting breath and the sweat of their wasted effort; for the stone still sat there, standing like a great mountain that their magic couldn't touch.
While I followed this helplessness with a mocking smile I didn't try to hide, the teacher's voice pierced my thoughts as he pointed at me coldly:
"Please, Miss Arya... try your luck."
My eyes widened for a moment, processing his provocative request, but my surprise soon turned into a broad smile carrying a dark omen.
I turned to Christoph and said in a confident tone:
"Watch closely how I shatter his damn pride now."
Christoph raised an eyebrow, and a burning, enthusiastic look gleamed in his eyes, as if he were waiting for an imminent explosion.
I stood up with a provocative calmness and walked toward the platform with steady steps until I stood beside the stone.
The teacher signaled for me to begin, so I gave him a final warning look and said:
"Are you sure about this? This stone seems expensive... you wouldn't want to lose it."
He raised his eyebrow dismissively and replied in a commanding tone devoid of patience:
"Just hurry, Miss Arya, there's no time for stalling."
I sighed with feigned helplessness and muttered audibly:
"I warned you."
I gave Christoph a final mocking smile, then placed my index finger on the top of the stone.
I didn't need light auras or magical rituals; all I did was a simple, graceful, and concentrated press.
At that moment, a dead silence fell... and suddenly, a scream of cracking erupted from the heart of the stone.
Cracks began to grow like spiderwebs under my finger, and as soon as I lifted my hand, the "impossible" shattered into small fragments, and the solid stone turned into a heap of pathetic rubble.
All movement in the hall froze, and the students' eyes widened to the point of bulging; what their magical legions failed to do, I shattered with the press of a single finger.
Amidst this deadly shock, the silence was broken only by the sound of loud, rhythmic clapping... it was Christoph.
He began to laugh with pure joy, indifferent to the disapproving looks around him, clapping hard as if he were watching the greatest show of his life.
I smiled faintly, thinking:
"That guy is truly insane..."
I turned to the teacher who looked as if time had stopped for him; his eyes were bulging, nearly falling out of their sockets as he saw his precious treasure turned to ruins under my hands.
I ignored his shock completely, turned around, and headed back to my seat beside that jubilant lunatic.
I had warned him, after all, and there is no blame on those who give warning.
I returned to my seat with total coldness, enjoying the observation of the teacher's features, which were colored with shades of rage and resentment; he looked as if he had swallowed a burning coal but was forced into silence.
I turned to Christoph, finding his body shaking in a silent fit of laughter, his eyes gleaming with a joy he couldn't suppress as he saw the man's ego evaporate.
He gave me a "thumbs up" in a clear sign of admiration for what I had done, and I exchanged a calm look with him, as if saying:
"It wasn't that difficult."
That moment was interrupted by the teacher's loud clearing of his throat, which seemed like a desperate attempt to regain his lost dignity.
He coughed repeatedly as if he had remembered something vital, then said in a tone he tried to make formal while eyeing me out of the corner of his eye:
"Well done today... had the 'Prince of Reapers' been present, the class would have ended from the very beginning."
The moment that title was spoken, the atmosphere in the hall changed suddenly.
Whispers rose among the students like the hissing of snakes, and tones of questioning and anxiety began to surface.
"Why is he late this time?"
one student whispered with a pale face, while another replied with an ill-concealed hatred:
"He is later than previous times... had it not been for his absence, this 'trash' wouldn't have dared to sneak into our class."
It was clear they meant me with their poisonous words, but I ignored their insults; something more important had caught my attention.
Who is this "Prince" they tremble at the mere mention of? And what do they mean by him being "late"? Does his presence end conversations and impose a silence stronger than the teacher's power?
The name was not only strange but carried a weight that sparked both disgust and curiosity at once.
I looked into the void for a moment, analyzing those words cast into the air... it seems this class hides more for me than just shattering stones.
The whistle finally blew, a sound that brought relief because it ended that boring class.
I left the classroom with Christoph; without him, I would have surely lost my way in the maze-like corridors of this academy, and I would have failed to find my room, let alone the dining hall.
Christoph was talking enthusiastically, moving his hands in the air as he explained the academy's strict rules and the details of the upcoming combat class.
I was listening to him with intense focus, not out of a love for knowledge, but in hopes that the mention of "that Prince" would pass between his words.
But he was buried in explaining how I would be chosen by the students for the challenge, as if I were prey placed in a cage of predators.
We finally reached our destination, and at that moment, I felt a hunger gnawing at my insides.
The hall was vast in a way that inspired awe, teeming with students from various classes and ranks.
Here, each rank had its color announcing its status; those of the lowest rank wore blue uniforms, the intermediate stood out in red, while the highest rank... "The Reapers," dominated with the majesty of their black attire.
As soon as we stepped inside, a sudden silence fell, followed by a torrent of whispers that did not escape my ears.
"Is this the girl who turned the platform upside down in the test?"
one girl asked in a skeptical tone, only for another to respond in amazement:
"She doesn't even have a single drop of Mana! How in the world did she do that?"
And from among the crowds, another voice rose saying:
"Damn... she is extremely beautiful!"
I walked through this noise with complete coldness, as if I heard nothing. I stopped in front of the food table and began filling my plate without care, while Christoph did the same beside me.
But I noticed that his eyes were not on the food; rather, he was eyeing that group that had made me the center of their conversation with looks as sharp as blades.
A single look from him was enough to shut their mouths and make them flee with their eyes.
I felt a strange lump in my chest.
"Why does he defend and protect me like this?"
I asked myself in bewilderment. Throughout my life in the outskirts, no one had dared to stand by my side or treat me with such pure kindness.
It was a new, confusing feeling, where wonder mixed with a gratitude I tried hard to hide behind my static mask.
We headed toward a secluded table and sat down to start eating; I needed that moment of serenity to absorb my surroundings, but silence in this academy seems to be a rare currency.
Only a few minutes passed before a group of boys approached us, preceded by their loud voices and provocative laughter, greeting Christoph with excessive enthusiasm.
One of them stopped suddenly, his eyes darting between me and Christoph with malice, then a provocative side-smile formed on his face as he yelled in a mocking tone:
"Damn, man! Are you in a relationship and didn't tell us?"
At that moment, Christoph choked on his food, his face turning a deep crimson as he beat his chest violently and tried to regain his breath.
I didn't wait; I quickly reached out and offered him a glass of water.
He snatched it from me and drank it in one gulp, then exhaled in relief while struggling with the embarrassment.
The young man didn't stop there; he added with a greasy laugh:
"Ooh... you two look really cute!"
Christoph glared at him with a look as sharp as a blade, trying to silence him, but my anger had reached its limit.
I felt my fingers pressing on the metal fork in my hand with a force that nearly bent it, and that provocative laughter of his was buzzing in my ears like the annoying hum of flies.
I looked at him with a deadly coldness, staring directly into his eyes as I said in a low voice, words coming through gritted teeth as a final warning:
"If you don't shut your damn mouth right now... I will rip out your throat with these two hands."
A sudden silence fell, as if the air in the hall had frozen.
I was completely serious, and I wasn't hallucinating; my hand was burning with a desire to carry out my threat if he spoke another word.
One of his friends quickly intervened, trying to patch up the flaming situation, saying in confusion:
"Guys... calm down, it's not worth it."
As for him, the one with the sharp tongue, he continued to eye me with cold, unwavering looks, as if my challenge had piqued his damn curiosity.
But his friend didn't give him the chance to respond; he pulled him away quickly while laughing awkwardly to lighten the mood, moving away with his blonde friend who had nearly lost his life over a crude joke.
I returned to my food, feeling Christoph's worried and surprised looks following me, but I didn't care; those who don't learn manners through words will surely learn them through my own way.
Christoph cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood after his friends left, and said in a tone wrapped in apology:
"Arya, don't mind them... they are always like that, reckless to the point of death, but their hearts are truly good, so don't take it personally."
I looked at him with total coldness, giving him a look that made his words freeze in the air, and said in a tone as sharp as a sword's edge:
"What is this, Christoph? If I had friends with such heavy-handedness and sharp tongues, I would have killed them long ago and spared the world their nonsense."
His eyes widened in a shock that didn't last long, and before I could utter another word, he burst into hysterical laughter, as if my stinging honesty was the only antidote to his tension.
I exploited that moment while he was busy laughing and decided to put my finger on the wound everyone feared to touch.
I leaned toward him slightly, lowering my voice so it was audible only to him:
"Tell me about the 'Prince of Reapers'... who is he, really?"
Suddenly, the laughter left his face as if it had never been there.
His features changed in the blink of an eye; the fun and activity vanished, replaced by a dark and heavy seriousness that made the air between us grow cold.
He stared into my eyes for a long time, as if weighing whether I was ready to hear the truth, then began to speak in a low voice filled with caution:
"He was given that title for a good reason, Arya... his power is not just magic; it is total destruction. His danger exceeds all ranks of the academy, and worst of all, he is the only one chosen by the 'Dragon's Spirit'... the rarest and fiercest of spirits that hasn't appeared in our world for centuries."
He paused for a moment while I analyzed his words.
"Dragon's Spirit"?
So he isn't just an elite student; he is a being walking on two feet. I asked him, trying to maintain my composure:
"And why is this seat empty? Where is he now?"
Christoph answered me, interlacing his fingers nervously, his eyes roaming the hall as if he feared the walls were listening:
"He was sent on a secret and massive mission outside the borders of the Kingdom a month ago... a suicide mission that no one else would dare think of. According to what the teachers whisper in secret, I believe he is close to arriving at the academy. His return, Arya... means that the rules you saw today will become mere ink on paper in his presence."
My eyes gleamed with a mysterious spark; while Christoph spoke of him with sanctity and fear, I was imagining that confrontation.
If he is the Dragon, then I was born from the ashes, and ashes don't burn twice.
At that moment, while the weight of the
talk about the "Prince of Reapers" and the danger of his legendary spirit hung heavy, something happened that Christoph never expected.
My face didn't turn pale, and dread didn't shake me; on the contrary, I felt my heart rate accelerate with an ecstasy I hadn't known in a long time.
My smile widened slowly, a broad smile that nearly reached my ears, a smile that carried all the madness of the
"Ash Outskirts."
I leaned back comfortably in my chair, straightening my posture as I said in a tone dripping with enthusiasm:
"Finally... someone worth facing! I am very excited to see this Dragon up close."
With every word I uttered with that eerie smile, Christoph's eyes widened in genuine terror, as if I weren't talking about a fight, but about a certain suicide.
He pulled his body back slightly, losing control over his nerves to shout aloud without realizing it:
"Have you gone mad, Arya?!"
His voice echoed in the vast hall like a bomb.
Suddenly, the noise cut out completely, and the students' whispers and laughter vanished, replaced by a sudden and heavy silence.
Heads turned toward us like programmed machines, hundreds of eyes staring at us with bewildered looks, wondering what could drive someone to scream with such panic in the presence of "Christoph."
Christoph realized the gravity of his action and the eyes he had drawn to us; his face flushed with embarrassment, and he cleared his throat loudly, trying to regain his lost composure.
He leaned in and whispered sharply in a serious tone that accepted no joking:
"I won't allow you to throw yourself to destruction, do you understand? Confronting him is not a game!"
But I didn't answer. I ignored his warning completely, and that wild smile remained settled on my face, challenging his fear and challenging the students' curious gazes.
To them, the Prince was "Death," but to me... he was the only one who might finally make me feel alive.