*******************
The highly skilled Brandenburger found himself frustrated by the unexpected turn of events. He had not anticipated Yuvan's resilience and skill, and now he was being pushed into a defensive position. The six-foot predator had become the prey of a smaller, seemingly insignificant lesser race. Earlier, he had attempted to end the fight with a powerful right hook, but Yuvan skilfully evaded it and retaliated with a precise blow to his jaw. Although Lucas managed to remain on his feet, he appeared visibly unsteady.
Yuvan, however, did not rush to capitalize on this opportunity. He maintained a cautious distance, allowing Lucas to regain his balance and composure. This deliberate strategy only served to further infuriate Lucas, who was determined not to embarrass himself in front of his fellow colleagues. He decided to close the gap between them and launched controlled jabs at Yuvan.
Yuvan, ever vigilant, kept himself just out of Lucas's reach. He employed a high knee march and occasionally utilized a well-timed kick to the solar plexus whenever he saw an opening. This tactical approach prevented Lucas from landing any meaningful strikes and showcased Yuvan's calculated and strategic fighting style.
Despite enduring a barrage of blows that left him winded, Lucas refused to give in. Determined to salvage his honour, he pressed on, searching for an opening to turn the tide of the battle. Meanwhile, Yuvan remained focused solely on Lucas, deliberately avoiding strikes to critical areas like the liver, spleen, and pancreas. This strategic approach showcased Yuvan's restraint and precision.
Amid the intensity of the fight, Lucas remained unaware of the alarming change in his celiac plexus, which had taken on a deep purple hue. His colleagues observed this concerning development, yet none dared to intervene. The prospect of losing to an inferior race was unthinkable.
The battle continued relentlessly, with Lucas enduring more punishment than he could bear. Eventually, his strength gave out, and he collapsed onto the mat, unconscious. A few of his fellow officers rushed forward to carry Lucas away, concerned for his well-being. However, a sense of determination still lingered in the air among those who remained. All eyes turned to Liebert Albrecht, as if silently challenging him to take up the mantle and restore their group's honour.
Reluctantly, Liebert, a prominent figure within the unit, stepped into the spotlight. The weight of expectations from his comrades seemed to pull him forward. Throughout the preceding bout, Liebert had been closely observing Yuvan's movements and actions. Despite the ten-minute duration of the match, Yuvan had managed to avoid every single blow without sustaining a single hit himself. What truly stood out, however, was the absence of any emotion in Yuvan's actions—a stoic and calculated demeanour that left an impression on Liebert.
Although Liebert was initially inclined to postpone the fight and further analyse his opponent's tactics, the reputation and honour of the entire unit were on the line. He exchanged a brief glance with Yohan, seeking perhaps a modicum of guidance or assurance, before finally engaging with Yuvan in the next challenge.
*******************
Inside the infirmary,
The physician carefully examined Yuvan, his experienced gaze assessing the extent of the injuries. "You're fortunate," he began, his voice carrying a sense of reassurance. "There are no internal injuries, just mild burns scattered across your body. These will heal naturally over time. The same applies to your left eye; it might look a bit different now, but it will return to normal within a few days." He gestured toward a face mask. "You can use this mask for added protection and comfort."
Reaching for a tray of medications, the physician continued, "I'll provide you with some creams and ointments for your burns. They'll help the healing process, although some scars may remain." He handed Yuvan a few small bottles. "Additionally, here are some supplements to aid in your recovery."
The physician's gaze turned thoughtful as he asked, "Were you experiencing health issues prior to your arrival at the academy? Your body seems unusually weak, even considering the recent events." Concern etched into his features as he awaited Yuvan's response.
No.
"No? Hah! Well, regardless, take proper care of your health. Make sure to eat something substantial; the inauguration ceremony is just two days away. They'll be assessing your strength and mana, and you need to be in top form. Your performance will impact your standing within the academy and the treatment you receive. Keep in mind that you can use your achievement points to purchase a healing potion, but be warned, it'll require a significant amount of points to heal your scars."
"Strength holds great importance here, so remember that. That's all for now; you're free to go. Your instructor will be waiting for you outside," the physician concluded, offering Yuvan a final nod before allowing him to leave the infirmary.
"Considering your condition, I was expecting far worse. Fortunately, it seems you'll be ready for the ceremony," the instructor remarked. "Follow me now; I'll show you to your room. You'll be sharing it with another student. Utilize these two days to rest and recuperate. Focus on building up your strength; you'll need to display every ounce of it during the ceremony." With that, the instructor led Yuvan toward his new living quarters, providing him with a sense of direction for the days to come.
Here we are, your new room.
Knock! Knock! Open up.
"Who's there?" A muffled voice came from inside.
Your instructor! Hurry up and open the door; I don't have all day.
“You sar! Gulp! Coming, sir!” With a bit of stumbling and fumbling, the boy reached the door and opened it. A red-haired boy with chubby cheeks opened the door, still munching on a half-eaten snack. He had beady eyes and a round face covered in freckles.
“Yes, instructor.. gasp!!” His words trailed off into a gasp as he caught sight of Yuvan.
He is your roommate so get along with him.
“What???!!” With bulging eyes, he looked at the instructor, all confused. He was yet to recover from the shock of seeing Yuvan; the instructor hit him with another deadlier jolt.
Is this some sort of punishment for my overeating? If it is, I promise I've learned my lesson. So, if you want, you can take this thing away.
"He's not an object. He's an academy student and your roommate, so don't be rude and show some respect.
Ethan, this is your room; go on, settle in and get some rest.
But sir…
The instructor stared at the red-haired boy.
Ahh! Good night to you, sir.
With that, the instructor turned and left the room.
Sleep well, sir!
“I know I won’t be,” the boy muttered himself.
He closed the door and made his way to his bed, avoiding eye contact with Yuvan. He climbed onto his bed and pulled the blanket over himself, covering from head to toe. He whispered his prayers:..."
Imperet illi Deus, supplices deprecamur: tuque, Princeps militiae Caelestis, satanam aliosque spiritus maligns
Ignoring the cacophony, Yuvan slept like a log on his cosy bed.
Inside the Zaštitnik's office, Damon Zaccai sat in patient anticipation, awaiting the arrival of the Celestial Hawk commander. He had questions that needed answers. The Order had meticulously investigated the incident site and discovered discrepancies in the report submitted by the Celestial Hawks. Aware of the potential consequences, Zaccai aimed to ensure accuracy in his report to prevent an unintended conflict between the minor clans.
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A firm knock echoed through the room.
"Enter," called out the voice from within.
The door swung open, revealing Agustin Verne.
"Agustin... Agustin Verne?!" Damon Zaccai's astonishment was evident as he spoke. "When they mentioned a Celestial Hawk commander, I certainly didn't expect it to be you. How... I mean, why? Someone of your calibre is a mere commander, and that too within a first-grade clan."
Agustin met Damon's surprise with a steady gaze. "I had an oath to uphold, sir," he replied.
Indeed, I remember now. Nevertheless, I won't pry into your personal matters. Oh, what a pity it is. Did you know that I was the one who recommended your name to the tower master? I was eager to have you. I saw my successor in you. Such a shame. I apologize for my lack of tact in putting you in such a situation.
It's quite alright, sir. I understand your intentions were well-meant.
Very well, let's delve into the matter at hand. I've reviewed your report and the Order's investigation findings. I have some inquiries that require your responses. Would you be able to assist me with those?
Certainly, sir.
First question. How were you certain that the leader of the attack was an Asura, and how did you deduce his rank as a captain?
Though he wasn't wearing the characteristic mask, the man's stature, his wielding of dual axes, and his resemblance to a known Asura, Jack Volstagg the slasher, led me to that conclusion. His quick decision-making and the ease with which he disengaged from his group upon surveying his surroundings were notable. I sensed a hint of demonic energy during our confrontation. He utilized a form of demonic tantra involving his own blood, indicating a raktapada (blood path) practitioner. Based on my observations, I assessed him to be at least a captain among the Asuras.
Understood. Next query. Were there any other individuals present, of similar age to the target, besides the escort team?
To the best of my knowledge, no.
I see. Then how do you explain the charred remains of the boy found inside the carriage?
Frankly, sir, as our engagement with the assailants escalated, the carriage erupted in flames. In the midst of the chaos, we initially believed our mission had failed and shifted our focus to swiftly neutralizing the attackers. Upon confirming the target's safety, our priority shifted to ensuring his secure transport to the academy.
Lastly, what are your impressions of the boy?
He strikes me as someone who comprehends the weight of suffering. He possesses an understanding of his position in the world and the dynamics of power and powerlessness. Perhaps he could be the individual you seek.
Your assessment of the boy is insightful. Did he evoke memories of your past?
In a manner, yes.
I see. That will conclude my inquiries. You may depart, or if you wish, share a cup of tea with your former mentor and engage in conversation.
Thank you, sir, but I must decline. My team awaits me, and I have an appointment with the headmaster before my departure.
I see. The old fellow is bound to feel a surge of nostalgia upon encountering you. I vividly recall the expression on his face when he learned of your intention to return to your clan.
Farewell, sir. I shall take my leave now. It was truly a pleasure to reconnect after all these years. Please take care.
You as well, my dear. It brought me great joy to see you again.
As Agustin reached the door, Damon Zaccai's voice echoed behind him. "Agustin...! Remember, if you ever change your mind, the door is always open for you." Agustin turned around and offered a respectful bow before making his way toward the headmaster's office.
"Sir, commander, are we finished here? Can we leave now?" Impatiently, Darryl leapt from his seat upon Agustin's exit from the office, seeking answers.
"Just a few more minutes, I need to meet with the headmaster. Once that's done, we can leave," Agustin responded, sensing Darryl's disappointment.
Inside the headmaster’s office,
Brahma paced restlessly, his office located at the zenith of the first tower. Moonlight illuminated the white towers, aligned toward the grand black tower, shimmering with a silver aura. Despite the breath-taking view of the lush forests, the towering walls, and the ancient academy buildings below, Brahma remained preoccupied. He felt the weight of his age, especially with Agustin's presence rekindling a mixture of guilt and happiness. In his life, he had few regrets, and the incident with Agustin Verne was one of them. At times, he wished Agustin had never come to the academy or his life, yet he eagerly awaited their reunion, longing to see his favourite student once again.
“Acharyasri!” Agustin's voice resounded, piercing the air as he entered, with Brahma's back turned toward the door.
Though mentally prepared, Brahma's heart still skipped a beat upon hearing Agustin's voice. He fought back the urge to rush and embrace him tightly, the fondness he held for Agustin akin to that of a father for his own son, Brahma regained his composure. He gestured for Agustin to enter and find a seat, his emotions a complex blend of joy, nostalgia, and restraint.
"It feels like such a long time, yet it's as if no time has passed at all. How have you been, my son?" Brahma's voice quivered with emotion.
"I'm well, Acharyasri," Agustin replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of reverence and nostalgia.
Brahma was keenly aware of the challenges Agustin faced within his clan, but he feigned ignorance. "I'm glad to hear that. What plans do you have now?"
"Nothing specific. My team is weary. Our current plan is to return to our clan," Agustin explained.
"If you're open to it, would you consider taking on a mission from the Zaštitnik?" Brahma continued, his eyes holding a glint of hope. He knew that offering Agustin a mission from the Order would help alleviate his isolation and suffering within the clan, a form of redemption for Brahma himself.
"You need not do that, Acharyasri," Agustin responded, appreciating his mentor's intentions.
"Nonsense! The instructors are occupied with the ceremony, and I require an extra set of skilled eyes. Mana fluctuations have been detected nearby, and I'm seeking your assistance. Your capabilities are what I need for this task. Don't read into it more than it is," Brahma assured him. He wanted to extend a gesture of support and camaraderie to Agustin, hoping to ease his burdens.
Might it not potentially stir trouble among the other super clans?
No need to concern yourself with that. I will handle any repercussions that arise. Moreover, even if I were to formally request aid from the superclans, it would take a day or two for their team to arrive here. Time is of the essence, and your team happened to be in the right place at the right time. In short, I need your assistance. Will you oblige?
Agustin understood the unspoken message. "I'm willing, Acharyasri."
"Excellent. If you're prepared, we can set out immediately. Or if you'd like to rest, that's an option too," Brahma suggested.
"I and my team are always ready, Acharyasri," Agustin affirmed.
"Then let's not waste any time. Off we go," Brahma declared.
As they exited the office, Brahma and Agustin engaged in conversation about their mission, discussing the reported mana fluctuations in the western and southern areas beyond the academy borders. Observing them together, Darryl briefly assumed that the headmaster was bidding farewell to his former student and couldn't help but smile. However, his optimism quickly faded when he caught wind of the new mission. Darryl's gaze shifted to Heather, as if he was responsible for it. Their eyes met, and in that unspoken exchange, Heather appeared to convey a mix of confusion and resignation, as if silently asking, "What did I do?" The team proceeded, with Agustin, their leader, and his old mentor Brahma leading the way.
In the morning, Yuvan was roused from his slumber by an unfamiliar noise coming from his new roommate.
"Imperettt illiii… Imper... ills... Dues."
Since his sleep was broken, Yuvan decided to rise from his bed and head to the bath. Despite having a restful night's sleep, a lingering sense of fatigue clung to him, making him feel somewhat uncomfortable. He sluggishly made his way to the bathroom, turned on the lights, and glanced at himself in the mirror for the first time since his arrival.
"No wonder others have trouble looking at me; I got burned worse than I expected," he thought as he observed his reflection. His left eyelids were contracted, revealing a partially cooked, red-dyed eyeball that protruded through the opening. His hair was singed, his skin marred with black and red charred patches, and a few areas of intact skin remained. His plan for a perfect disguise had gone a little too far; the mana bomb's intensity had surpassed his estimation. He hadn't even fully removed the fire-resistant ring, the artefact he took from Ethan, from his finger, yet his burns were this severe; only ashes remained of the other two bodies.
Enduring the stinging pain, he cleaned himself up, changed into a fresh set of uniform provided by the academy, and casually tossed his old attire onto the face of his muttering roommate.
Startled from his sleep, the red-haired boy let out a scream. "Arrrgh… Please don't kill me!"
Disentangling himself from the nightmare, he hastily removed the pungent-smelling cloth from his face and squinted in the direction of a figure standing in his room. The dim-lit room made it hard to discern much, revealing only a half-scarred face and a red-glowing eye. The situation made Yuvan appear far more menacing than he actually looked. The twelve-year-old, completely disoriented, screamed even louder than before.
"ARRRGH…!!! PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!!"
"Shut up! Or I will!" Yuvan commanded in his raspy voice, and the terrified boy instinctively complied. He covered his mouth with his hands and stared at Yuvan, awaiting further instructions.
"Sit down!" Yuvan ordered, and the boy promptly obeyed.
"Tell me everything you know about the academy, and don't leave out any details."
The boy nodded and mumbled, "toosaads o eers goo..."
"Remove your hands, you idiot!"
"Sorry! I was so scared... I..."
"Enough!" Yuvan waved his hand impatiently. "Start from the beginning and leave out no details."
"Alright," the boy took a deep breath and began, "Thousands of years ago, the first sword saint Sasaki defeated the great Asura Hubaal, who came-back from the God’s Acre with a forbidden power to conquer our continent. After the intense battle, the Sword Saint himself was weakened. To safeguard our world and train the next generation of strong Zaštitniks, he established the Rudrashila. Over the centuries, the academy flourished and gained power, producing numerous legends throughout its history..."
"I don’t want to learn about the history of the academy. Tell me about the rules and regulations," Yuvan interjected.
"Ah, the rules and regulations," the boy responded. "There are many, but one stands out: strength. If you're powerful enough, rules don't hold you back. You can do as you please, as long as you deliver results. You'll be treated like royalty, with the academy investing heavily in you. You can even challenge instructors and get away with it," the boy looked at Yuvan, "let alone bullying the weak."
"Look at the time, let's head to the cafeteria," the boy quickly suggested, attempting to escape his current predicament. Yuvan fixed a stern gaze on the boy, seemingly unimpressed that he was thinking about food in a situation that warranted caution.
The boy quickly grasped the intent behind Yuvan's gaze. "Um, you see, if we wait any longer, we might end up having to dine with the seniors. Trust me, it's not going to be a pleasant experience. I mean, they might not do anything too weird with you around...But really, why risk it? We don't want to draw unnecessary attention before the ceremony and stand out like sore thumbs."
Seeing Yuvan starting to come around to his reasoning, the boy added, "Let's go to the cafeteria first. I'll give you a tour and explain the rest along the way."
"Alright," Yuvan agreed.
"Oh, I have something for you," the boy exclaimed, rushing to his cupboard and retrieving a black mask with dark red patterns. "Please accept this gift as an apology for my earlier behaviour."
Yuvan took the mask and listened as the boy extolled its virtues: "This mask is like a relic, a limited edition produced hundreds of years ago. I acquired it through quite a bit of effort..." He brought the mask closer to his face while gauging the boy's reaction. Seeing no signs of suspicion, Yuvan felt confident proceeding.
As Yuvan placed the mask onto his face, an unexpected sensation surged through him, almost as if the mask itself came alive. It latched onto Yuvan’s face, fusing with his skin, causing an intense and suffocating feeling, like his flesh was melting away. Despite the startling and agonizing experience, Yuvan displayed remarkable composure. He remained still, not even a hint of flinching crossing his expression. He embraced the discomfort, ready to face whatever consequences awaited him—whether it meant death or some unknown fate. Yuvan's resolve remained unshaken, his acceptance unwavering.
Seconds felt like an eternity as Yuvan endured excruciating pain. Gradually, the intensity subsided, and the boy, still excited about the mask, marvelled, "Whoa! You look even more menacing, in a good way, of course."
Yuvan took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and calmly regarded the fascinated boy. The boy was visibly thrilled, goosebumps rising from looking at Yuvan. The mask fit Yuvan perfectly, almost as if it had been crafted for him. The burn marks on his neck aligned flawlessly with the dark red patterns on the mask, creating a captivating image.
Addressing the mesmerized boy, Yuvan asked, "Have you ever tried the mask on yourself?" He prepared to respond based on the boy's answer.
"Huh! Weren't you listening to me?" the boy retorted. "This is a special mask. Wearing it makes you its master for life, and no one else can wear it unless the previous owner has perished."
"Heh heh! It won't be long before I get rid of you and reclaim my mask. Even if I lose the mask, removing you is well worth it," the boy calculated internally. "Alright, we're ready now. Let's go and grab something to eat. I'll take you on a longer route so you can see more of the academy.