Kiran sat cross-legged on the grass of the eastern training ground, surrounded by Zoren and his fresh group of followers.

The faces around him were different from last week's crowd - Zoren went through lackeys like most people went through clothes, discarding them the moment they showed any signs of weakness or independent thought.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the training ground, painting everything in shades of crimson that made his skin crawl. He could feel his bloodline stirring restlessly beneath his skin, responding to both the red sunlight and his own growing anxiety.

"Comfortable, Tovel?" Zoren' asked. He stood a few paces away, perfectly positioned so that his shadow fell across Kiran's face. "I do hope you're not finding our little wait too tedious."

Kiran remained silent, focusing on his breathing as he had been for the past hour. It helped keep the bloodline quiet, though he could still feel it pushing against his control, wanting to emerge. The familiar sensation of bones shifting beneath his skin made him want to scratch until he bled, but he kept his hands still in his lap.

He hadn't expected to end up here when he'd decided to use the eastern training ground for some extra practice after classes.

In retrospect, he should have known better. The eastern grounds were closer to the dormitories used by the common-born initiates – exactly where someone hunting for Tomas might set up watch.

Zoren had grown tired of searching for his prey and decided to make the prey come to him instead. When Kiran had walked in, alone and distracted by his own thoughts, the choice had practically made itself.

After all, everyone had now heard how Kiran and the ‘Natural’ were training buddies.

The rune on Kiran's forehead flickered, trying to manifest as his thoughts darkened. He pushed it back down, ignoring the way his bones ached in protest. Even if he let the bloodline take over, it wouldn't be enough. Zoren was at the peak of Rank 1, and his followers weren't far behind. Fighting would only make things worse.

More importantly, Kiran knew the politics at play. The longer this dragged on, the harder it would be for the academy to maintain its ignorance. There were limits to what even Zoren could get away with in broad daylight.

Better to endure some temporary humiliation than escalate things to a point where the academy would be forced to take notice – and possibly take action that would benefit no one.

"Young Master Zoren," one of the lackeys spoke up, a thin boy with close-cropped hair whose name Kiran could never remember. "Perhaps we should send another message? It's been over an hour..."

Zoren's hand shot out, catching the boy across the face with a casual backhand that made him stumble back.

"Did I ask for your opinion?" he asked softly, never taking his eyes off Kiran. "These commoner types are all the same – too proud for their own good. He won't be able to resist playing the hero. The Natural will come, won’t he Tovel?” His lips curved into a cruel smile. "And when he does..."

Kiran sincerely hoped not. The whole situation was absurd – using him as bait to lure out someone who was probably even less capable of handling Zoren than Kiran himself. If Tomas had any sense at all, he'd stay far away.

"He won't come," Kiran said, keeping his voice steady. "He barely knows me."

This earned him a kick to the ribs from another of his followers that sent him sprawling.

"Liar," the scarred boy spat. "We know all about your combat practice. You seem pretty friendly to me."

Kiran pushed himself back into a sitting position, wincing. "We exchanged maybe ten words. That's hardly—"

Another kick cut him off, this time catching him in the shoulder. The pain sent a surge of energy through his bloodline, and for a moment, bones began to push through his skin before he forced them back with gritted teeth.

"Oh?" Zoren's eyebrows rose with interest. "Was that the famous Tovel bloodline trying to emerge? Please, don't hold back on my account." His smile showed too many teeth. "I'd love to see if it lives up to the stories."

Kiran knew better than to rise to the bait. His family's bloodline technique was impressive, yes, but it came with a price. The longer he used it, the more the red sun's influence affected his mind.

Even if by some miracle he managed to defeat Zoren's lackeys, he'd probably end up losing control and killing someone in the process. The academy might overlook a lot of things, but murder was still technically forbidden.

Besides, he consoled himself, Zoren wouldn't dare go too far. House Tovel might not think much of Kiran anymore, but they still had appearances to maintain. A minor noble house like Zoren's couldn't risk severely injuring a scion of one of the great houses, no matter how disappointing that scion might be.

Tomas, on the other hand, had no such protection. If he actually showed up...

A sudden movement in Kiran's peripheral vision made him tense, but it was just another of Zoren's cronies shifting position. They were all on edge, he realized. Despite their show of confidence, they knew they were pushing boundaries. If the wrong person happened to pass by...

"Senior Brother Zoren," the youngest of the group – Bane, if Kiran remembered correctly – called out softly. "Perhaps we should move somewhere more... private?"

"Scared, Bane?" Zoren's tone was light, but there was an edge to it that made the younger student flinch. "Don't worry. I've made sure we won't be interrupted. The regular patrols have been... redirected."

That explained the lack of supervisors. Zoren must have called in some favors, arranged for this particular area to be conveniently overlooked.

It was the kind of detailed planning that made him truly dangerous – not just his cultivation, but his ability to manipulate the academy's systems to his advantage.

Time crawled by with excruciating slowness. The red sun continued its journey across the sky, its crimson light growing more intense as it approached the seventh hour.

Kiran could feel its influence pressing against his mind, making the bone rune pulse with increasing urgency. The bloodline wanted out, wanted to fight, to prove its worth through violence.

"Young Master," another lackey called out, this one a tall girl with elaborate braids. "Someone's coming."

Above them, suspended impossibly in mid-air, a robed figure hung motionless against the backdrop of the red sun. The figure's presence seemed to command attention, drawing all eyes up as though pulled by an invisible force.

The robes were unmistakable – only a Rank 2 Skybound would dare to wear that shade of blue within the academy walls. The golden trim along the edges marked them as an elder's direct disciple, one of the few granted the privilege of flight within the academy.

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The figure began descending, their blue robes rippling unnaturally in the still air. They landed on the training ground without disturbing a single blade of grass. Their hood was drawn up, concealing their face in shadows deeper than natural darkness - a common enchantment meant to maintain the mystery of higher-ranked disciples.

A glance at Zoren's face confirmed what Kiran had already suspected – this wasn't part of the plan. The young noble's carefully maintained expression of superiority had cracked, revealing a flash of genuine uncertainty. Whatever backing Zoren had arranged for this confrontation, it clearly hadn't included intervention from a Rank 2 disciple.

Hope flickered briefly in Kiran's chest. Had the academy actually sent someone to maintain order? But no – his experiences had taught him that the higher one climbed in cultivation, the more unstable they tended to become. For all he knew, this could make things even worse.

Zoren recovered quickly, dropping into a respectful bow. His followers immediately mimicked the gesture, though Kiran noticed their movements were stiff and forced.

"Honored Senior," Zoren said smoothly, though there was a slight tremor in his voice. "How may we be of assistance?"

The hooded figure remained silent for a moment, and Kiran could have sworn he saw a flash of amusement in the shadows where a face should be. When the figure finally spoke, the voice was oddly distorted, as if coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"I find myself curious about this gathering," the figure said. "What brings so many students to the training grounds at this hour?"

Zoren straightened from his bow, though he kept his head slightly lowered in deference. "Nothing of importance, honored senior. We're simply waiting for a friend to join us for some additional practice."

His followers nodded eagerly in agreement, but Kiran noticed they were carefully avoiding looking directly at the hooded figure. Something about the senior's presence seemed to unsettle them on an instinctive level.

The figure's hood turned slightly, focusing on Kiran. "Is that so? Because I've heard rather different rumors. Something about an initiate being held against their will?"

Zoren shot Kiran a warning look – one that promised severe consequences for any deviation from the story. But Kiran had already decided. If this senior was actually here to help, lying would only make things worse. And if they weren't... well, the truth couldn't make his situation much worse.

"They've kept me here since classes ended," Kiran said, managing a respectful bow of his own despite being seated. "I should be studying for the examination, but instead I'm forced to waste time as part of their game."

The hood tilted slightly, and Kiran felt the weight of hidden eyes examining him. Then the figure raised one hand, and a familiar rune flashed briefly on their palm – a wood element marking that made Kiran's breath catch in his throat.

The grass around them began to stir, despite there being no wind. Small shoots and vines emerged from the perfectly maintained lawn, twisting and growing at an impossible rate. They gathered around the hooded figure like attendants awaiting orders, their movements carrying an unsettling sense of intelligence.

Zoren took an involuntary step back, his carefully maintained facade crumbling. "Honored Senior, I... there seems to have been a misunderstanding. I apologize for any offense-"

"An ant dares to lie to me?" The figure's distorted voice carried an edge that made everyone present flinch. The plants responded to their master's displeasure, drawing closer to Zoren and his followers with predatory grace.

"No! I mean, yes – I mean..." Zoren dropped into another bow, deeper this time. "It was a momentary lapse in judgment! Please forgive this junior's thoughtlessness!"

The plants paused in their advance as Zoren continued to grovel, practically pressing his forehead to the ground.

Seeing their leader's complete submission seemed to break something in his followers – they began backing away, their earlier bravado completely forgotten.

"The boy can go," Zoren said quickly, gesturing at Kiran without looking up. "I won't trouble him again. He's free to leave-"

"You presume," the hooded figure cut him off, the plants tensing at their words, "to decide who may go or stay?"

"No! Of course not!" Zoren's voice had risen almost to a squeak. "That was presumptuous of me. I apologize, honored senior!"

The figure remained still for a long moment, then, with a casual wave of their hand, they dismissed the gathered plants. The vines and shoots retreated, returning to their original positions as if they had never moved at all.

"Leave," the figure said simply, making a dismissive gesture.

Zoren and his followers didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled to their feet and fled, nearly tripping over each other in their haste to escape. Kiran caught fragments of their panicked conversation as they ran.

"Young Master, what about Senior Baldric?" one of them whispered urgently. "He's Rank 2 as well, surely he could-"

"Shut up!" Zoren hissed furiously. "Senior Baldric won't risk moving against an elder's direct disciple, you fool! Do you want me to be slapped to death?"

Their voices faded into the distance, leaving Kiran alone with the mysterious senior. He quickly got to his feet and bowed deeply.

"This junior thanks the honored senior for their intervention," he said, keeping his eyes lowered.

"There's no need to bow, Kiran," the figure replied in a completely normal voice. "It's what friends do."

Kiran's head snapped up, his eyes widening. That voice...

The figure reached up and pulled back their hood, revealing Tomas’ familiar face wearing an amused smile. A vine poked out from behind his neck, giving what could only be described as a cheerful wave.

"But... how?" Kiran stammered. "Those robes... the flying... you're Rank 1!"

Before Tomas could answer, a massive explosion shook the ground beneath their feet. The impact was so powerful that both of them had to fight to maintain their balance.

"What was that?" Tomas frowned, the vine around his neck tensing as if preparing for danger.

Kiran's blood ran cold as he recognized the particular resonance of that explosion. He'd heard similar sounds during his family's lessons on siege warfare and academy defense.

"I think," he said slowly, his voice barely above a whisper, "the academy is under attack."