My heart was still pounding with indignation as I made my way to the student council meeting. My cheeks were flushed, a mix of embarrassment and anger lingering from the assembly.

How dare he? The thought circled my mind, nagging and unrelenting.

Max, that undereducated ruffian, had the audacity to interrupt my carefully rehearsed speech.

I could still hear the echo of his voice in my ears, see the smirk on his face. Hours I had spent refining every word, every gesture, only to have it ruined in an instant. The sting of it was still fresh, a burning wound to my pride.

And what for? What had he accomplished with his interruption, other than making a mockery of my effort?

I felt a simmering rage bubbling beneath my poised exterior. It was so unlike me to be this unsettled, and yet, I couldn't shake the feeling of being wronged.

But I had to push it aside, I told myself firmly. I was, after all, the freshman representative, and that meant taking over the role of student council secretary.

I straightened my dress and composed myself. The silk fabric felt smooth against my skin, and the delicate scent of my lavender perfume floated in the air, reminding me of the grace and decorum I must uphold. A soft yet determined smile graced my lips.

As I entered the room, my frustration momentarily faded, replaced by the grandeur of high society that surrounded me. The decor was elegant, the atmosphere refined. A chandelier cast a soft glow over the room, reflecting off polished wood and gleaming silver.

I could almost hear the distant echoes of orchestras from grand balls past, the subtle fragrance of fresh flowers mingling with the scent of old books.

"Miss Sela, welcome," said the student council president, his voice smooth and confident. He was tall and impeccably dressed, his black hair slicked back and his dark eyes filled with intelligence. "I'm Arlen, the student council president."

"To my right is our vice president, Ethan," Arlen introduced

I couldn't help but fixate on Ethan.

Ethan’s blond hair had a sun-kissed glow, neatly combed back, and his sapphire blue eyes were sharp yet warm. His school uniform blazer was tailored from finer fabric, hinting at an understated elegance, and his physique was lithely muscular, graceful in a way that spoke of controlled strength.

He offered a smile. "Pleased to meet you, Sela," he said, his voice crisp and bright, like those of ringing silver bells, resonating with a clarity that sparkled in the air.

As our hands met, I felt a confidence in his grip that sent a subtle thrill through me. His touch spoke of noble grace, hinting at an exceptional character beneath the surface.

"Pleasure's all mine," I replied, my voice surprisingly steady despite the flutter in my chest.

Ethan's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, something unspoken in his eyes, before he turned to the treasurer, a slender young man with dark, curly hair and an earnest expression.

"Finn here handles all our finances. You can trust him with every penny."

Finn smiled and extended his hand to me. "Or every credit, in our case," he said. I shaked his hand with a smile.

As I turned to greet another member, I caught a fleeting glimpse of Finn’s eyes, taking in more than just a passing glance. When his eyes met mine again, I felt a brief, odd sense of unease.

"And lastly," Arlen said, turning to the student activity officer, a lively young woman with vibrant red hair and sparkling green eyes, "this is Maris, our creative powerhouse."

How about Maria grinned at Sela. "Welcome aboard! Nice speech, by the way. You almost inspired a whole riot!!"

Ethan shot Maris a warning look, but she only laughed.

"Oh, come on, Ethan, I'm just joking!", Maris said, smiling at me.

I forced a smile, but feeling a pang of irritation inside.

Suddenly, the door to the student council room slammed open, causing a jarring echo. A breathless student stood in the doorway, his eyes wild with panic. "Fight!" he gasped, struggling for breath. "Tactag field!"

I shot up from my seat. "What's going on?"

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

He swallowed hard. "Tigers. Owls. They're squaring off!" He wiped sweat from his brow. "Over practice time. At the new field."

Maris shot to her feet, her eyes wide with urgency. "We have to stop them!"

"Let's go!" Arlen agreed, also getting up.

Without second thought, I followed them and bolted out the student council room towards the field.

As we moved, I caught a glimpse of Finn, still seated in the room, his eyes following me with an unreadable expression.

***

The training ground, usually a symbol of discipline and teamwork, was transformed into a bubbling cauldron of tension. The Cerulean Tigers, brimming with arrogance from their past victories, had squared off against the Midnight Owls, cunning and ever unpredictable.

"It's our spot, Owls," hissed a towering Tiger, his face a mask of contempt.

"You wish," retorted a lithe member of the Owls, her eyes narrowing with defiance.

From my vantage point, I could see a couple players from both sides donning their tactag suits, the shimmering protective fabric gleaming under the sun's rays. Those suits, intricately laced with sensors, were designed to neutralize the danger of the modified firearms and melee weapons used in the game.

A wiry Owl, clad in his tactag suit, menacingly brandished a dagger towards a cluster of Tigers yet to armor up.

"Maybe this will settle things," he sneered, while slashing threateningly with his dagger.

My heart raced. Against bare skin? The dagger could be lethal.

Then everything happened in a flash.

Before I could even register what was happening, Ethan had become a tempest of motion. Despite an incredibly rapid approach to the Owl, his movements were somehow... graceful.

With a precise flick of Ethan's wrist, the Owl's weapon skidded across the floor. Then, in a swift and fluid movement, Ethan's hand struck the back of the Owl's neck. As the Owl's knees buckled, Ethan rotated seamlessly to catch him, restraining his arms in one continuous motion.

The Owl, dazed but still conscious, knelt there with his arms pinned behind him. His mouth hung open, eyes wide and brimming with a mix of shock and fear.

The entire field seemed to hold its breath, taking in the astonishing display before them. After what felt like an eternity, a deafening silence gave way to a crescendo of cheers.

"Ethan! Ethan! Ethan!" His name echoed throughout the practice field. Each chant more deafening than the last.

Ethan raised a hand, signaling for silence.

As the chants subsided, he spoke in a calm yet commanding tone.

"We're all here to better ourselves, to become the best versions that we can be. Let's not let disputes divide us. Instead, let's find ways to train together and learn from each other."

He paused, looking around at the faces of both teams.

"I propose the Owls take the field today. But in return, the Tigers get first pick of the time slot tomorrow. This way, we can all get our fair share of practice."

Murmurs of agreement spread through the crowd. It was an ingenious solution that seemed fair to both parties. With that, Ethan gently helped the Owl to his feet. The Owl, still reeling from the shock, managed a nod of gratitude.

The crowd, inspired by Ethan's display of wisdom and leadership, began to melt away. Their initial hostility was now replaced with a palpable sense of respect. As they cleared the field, a distinct figure began to make her way toward Ethan.

I watched an imposing woman in her 50s with short, dark hair weave through the dispersing crowd. Every step she took, albeit with a slight limp, commanded authority. The cane she clutched wasn’t merely decorative—it was clear she needed it.

"Quite the performance," she remarked, her eyes, sharp and evaluating, sizing up Ethan.

"Thank you, Preceptor Thorne."

"If the Golden Nebula piques your interest, meet me in my office tomorrow."

Whispers erupted around me.

"Did you catch that?"

"He might join the Golden Nebula!"

"The Iron Valkyrie just invited Ethan!"

Before I knew it, Ethan was surrounded by students showering him with praises and congratulations.

"Who is she? I feel like I've seen her before," I turned to Maris, seeking answers.

Maris chuckled, and Arlen leaned in, admiration evident in his gaze.

"That's Precept Elara Thorne, also known as the Iron Valkyrie. You must have heard of her," Arlen said, almost incredulously.

Suddenly, it clicked. Captain Elara "Iron Valkyrie" Thorne, the Shield of Veridion. We all grew up on tales of her exploits against the space pirates.

"They say she chose teaching at the Academy to honor a promise she made to her own mentor," Maris added helpfully.

"We're being taught by the Iron Valkyrie?" The realization sent a shiver down my spine.

Arlen and Maris exchanged knowing looks before saying in unison, "Exactly."

"But what exactly is the Golden Nebula?" I pressed.

"It's one of the Academy's top houses, not like the lower-tier ones like the Owls and Tigers. They even have their own exclusive training grounds," Arlen explained.

"And the Iron Valkyrie? She's the head of Golden Nebula," Maris chimed in.

As the buzz of conversation started to wane, Ethan began heading our way.

"When did you become such a good fighter, Ethan?" Maris jested.

"So, considering Golden Nebula?" Arlen nudged.

"We'll see," Ethan replied with a faint smile.

But there was something deeper, a thoughtful look in his eyes. For a moment, I found myself lost in the blueness of his eyes.