Before the two students arrived, Solren had been loitering in one of the teachers’ lounges—a secluded space tucked away in the quieter part of the academy. Its barren location made it far less lively than the other bustling staff rooms, which was exactly why he preferred it.

This particular room, however, held more significance: it was a place Professor Amelia de Roselle often visited. His true intention had been to meet her here.

As he idly admired the meticulous work of the academy’s unknown gardener, the familiar sound of footsteps pulled his attention. Glancing to the side, he saw Professor Roselle approaching, the thick book from her earlier lesson still tucked under her arm.

“Hello, Amil. How was class?” Solren greeted her with a casual warmth, calling her by a nickname that suggested familiarity, though his youthful appearance might have made their relationship seem unexpected.

Of course, Solren's true age far exceeds his young face.

The stern professor didn’t seem to mind. In fact, her lips curved into a small smile at the Grand Mage’s informal greeting. “The same as always, Solren,” she replied with a nod. “I kept an eye on your baby dragon as you requested. He definitely lives up to your expectations… perhaps even exceeds mine.”

Solren’s grin broadened at her words, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. One might think Silas Salvador was his actual child. “For someone so difficult to impress, it seems my apprentice is even greater than I realized.”

Amelia shook her head lightly, though her smile lingered. “I passed Professor Gerran earlier,” she said, her tone carrying a note of amusement. “He couldn’t stop complaining about how jealous he was of you. It’s a good thing you snagged Silas before the other magicians could.”

As Solren's lips parted to reply, he saw some familiar figures in the corner of his eyes. “Speak of the Devil, looks like they're here.” a bright smile broke across his face, and he waved his arms high above his head with an exaggerated enthusiasm. To his delight, their expressions shifted into visible displeasure.

Truly, drawing a reaction out of them brought him much joy.

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“Is there something you need me for, teacher?” Clear exasperation laced Zeke's tone. As he spoke, his gaze briefly met with Professor Roselle's. “You kept signaling me over with your mana. Were you testing me?” He raised an eyebrow at the Grand Mage, “Or did you want to show off your disciple to your colleagues?”

Solren laughed, “You're on point!” Standing with his arms akimbo, his proud grin added a dramatic flare to his demeanor. “Although,” all of a sudden, he began speaking in a serious voice, the grin fading into a small smile, “Doing this has its own advantages as well. Not a lot of people acknowledge you, Silas, even if you're my student.”

Zeke stared at him, face void of emotions. His silence remained brief as he took some time to think of a reply. “...What point are you trying to prove?”

“That you got here to this point purely from your own skills,” Solren's response came in an instant. His eyes shimmered with an unknown emotion as he smirked. “Which is why you're here for your ‘Practical Combat’ class.”

Zeke and Circe shared a glance, speaking at the same time, “Practical combat?”

“It's the theme of tomorrow's Special Class,” Solren explained, now they realized that he'd been eyeing Zeke with a look full of crazed obsession. “Did you forget that it's Friday tomorrow? That's why you have to win, Silas. Beat the shit out of every opponent and show them that you're the strongest!”

“Solren,” Professor Roselle finally spoke up, sighing with a small frown on her face. “I think it's time I tell you that we've changed the theme for tomorrow's Special Class.”

Hearing that, Solren turned and stared at Amelia, his exaggerated look nowhere to be seen. “...Since when?”

“Since yesterday,” the corner of Amelia's lips curved up slightly. “We were all discussing it, though you never showed up.”

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“Then…” Solren pursed his lips, a nervous look flickered across his face. “What did you all change it to?”

“A joint competition,” Amelia started with a chuckle, “The game of choice is chess.”

Horror dawned on his expression as Solren whipped his head around, staring at Zeke with wide-eyed anxiety. “Do you know how to play chess?” He questioned in a mumble.

“Uh,” Zeke frowned, a judgemental look escaping his mask of indifference. “Yes…I can play chess, though I'm not very good at it.”

“That's okay!” Solren's face brightened in an instant. Clasping his hands together, he exclaimed. “We can still make it if we start training now!” He whirled around, heading for the nearest door. “Come! The teacher's lounge is the perfect place for this!”

“...I'd rather not,” His reluctance etched plainly on his face, but his feet betrayed him and kept pace with his teacher.

Circe and Amelia looked at each other for a moment, before falling into step behind the pair.

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“...I thought you said you weren't very good?” Solren forced a smile, glancing up from the chess board as Zeke made his move: the White Rook from A1 slid over to F1, giving the Black King a check.

“I surprised myself just as much. Did not expect myself to last this long.” Zeke replied in a tone opposite of his words; a cold, dull tone, threading between indifference and arrogance. He watched as Solren carefully moved his king upwards from F8 to E7.

Meanwhile, Circe and Professor Roselle spectated from the sidelines, deep calculations flickered behind their eyes as they stared intently at the board. With Zeke's three-points material disadvantage, the endgame seemed to lean towards Solren's favor.

Solren moved his own Rook in front of the White Rook, looking to trade off the pieces. Zeke promptly ignored the offer and gave another check to the Black King. In response, Solren moved his king to D6, where his Knight and white-squared Bishop sandwiched it from top and bottom.

Zeke gave his next move a bit of thought, eventually settling with moving his black-squared Bishop backwards from D2 to E1. Unfazed by the seemingly useless move, Solren slid his own Bishop to B5, attacking the White Rook.

The previous Bishop move didn't go to waste, however, as Zeke gave a check to the Black King on G3, forcing Solren to move it back one square. Briefly, Zeke glanced at the clock sitting beside them, revealing that he only had around thirty seconds left while Solren still had forty. He decided to finally accept the Rook trade, getting rid of his most powerful piece in a final desperation.

Solren took a bit of time to think, and began pushing his few remaining Pawns forward, clearly with the goal of promoting one of them to a Queen. Zeke had the same idea, but changed his mind and moved his Bishop to D4.

Solren frowned at the move, but kept pushing his Pawn forward anyway. Zeke chose King F2 as a response, and Solren continued with his Pawn attack.

After Zeke slid his isolated Pawn forward to lock the previous piece, Solren moved his pawn on the other side of the board, prompting his opponent to do the same.

When Solren nonchalantly moved his King forward, it seemed that Zeke had no other way to fight back…Until Zeke decided to trade his few Pawns away.

Ten seconds later into the match, Solren noticed the window of opportunity given to his opponent by his own blunder. He'd accidentally moved his Bishop away from a protected square, losing one of his Pawns to the White King in the process.

“That's fine,” Solren's confidence slipped into a small grin, glancing up to see that Zeke's expression remained unchanged. Despite his stoic face, he liked to think that the boy was panicking inside. “I still have plenty more pieces.”

But when Zeke made his move, the smile of certainty faded away in an instant. “Oh, wow.” Solren rang his fingers through his hair, chuckling like a madman as he stared with wide-eyed disbelief at the board before him.

While Circe kept frowning at the position of the pieces, Solren extended a hand towards Zeke; an offering for a draw, “I did not see that. Good game, Silas. It was my fault for underestimating you.”

“It's a draw?” Circe inquired, looking back and forth between Zeke and Solren as they shook hands. “I don't see it…Did Silas force a draw?”

“It wasn't forced…really,” Amelia huffed, a small smile dancing on her lips, failing to hide the amusement in her voice. “But if not a draw, Solren would lose the game when Silas promotes a Queen.”

“Yes, because you can't checkmate with opposite-colored Bishops,” Solren began moving the pieces back to their original position.

When he finished, he glanced at Zeke with a raised eyebrow. “Though, I'm surprised you know how to play for a draw, but not a win. Do you have any idea how hard it is for new players to see draws?”

Zeke shrugged in nonchalance, “I just got lucky, I guess.”

Before Solren could reply, the faint chimes of the bells interrupted him. “Oh, it's time already?” Genuine surprise laced his voice. Standing up, he flashed a smile at Zeke. “Do you have any prior engagements? If not, you could stay here and play another game with me.”

“Actually, we do,” Zeke replied in an instant, glancing at Circe as if asking for assistance. Luckily, she got the message, and chimed in with an eager nod. “We planned on meeting with our friends to start on Professor Roselle's project.”

Amelia's face brightened, satisfaction clear in her gaze. “You're doing it already?” She nodded in approval, “I look forward to seeing your group's work.”

Though dejection was clear on his face, Solren still managed a smile. “Well, that's a shame,” he said, his voice dipping briefly before he instantly bounced back, grinning from ear to ear. “But you have to win the competition tomorrow! This is all for you to—”

Smack!

Professor Roselle smacked him hard across the back, cutting his sentence short. “Ack!”

“It's just a friendly match between students,” Amelia let out a long, worn sigh, shaking her head slightly. “The winning prize isn't much anyway, just a silver ring we found near the empire's borders.”

“Ah, that?” Solren arched his back, face scrunched up from pain. “It didn't seem to have any dangerous magic on it, but I can tell that it's from a dungeon. Is it okay to give that away?”

Amelia narrowed her eyes, “...Is that why you want Silas to win? So you can take the ring for yourself?”

Solren's eyes turned round, staring at her as if she'd just insulted his entire bloodline. “No?” His cracked voice didn't make him sound any more believable. By then, Amelia had already rolled her eyes in disbelief. “I just thought it was a shame to give away something so academically valuable,” he shrugged, yet avoided her gaze, “that's all.”

“Right.” Obviously, Professor Roselle believed none of that, but simply decided to let the matter slip as she focused her attention on the two students. “You two are free to go now, the Grand Mage had held you up for way too long.” As she stretched Solren's title, the man himself began pouting like a child.

Circe and Zeke exchanged a brief look before the latter spoke. His voice held a hint of uncertainty; unsure of what tone to use. “Thank you, professor. We'll see you tomorrow.”

“But you'll see me at dinner!” Solren changed his expression again, now lighting up like a big, energetic lightbulb about to burst into a million glass shards.

By then, however, the pair had already turned on their heels and headed for the exit. Solren, either oblivious or entirely unfazed, continued waving and calling out from where he stood. Even after the door clicked shut behind them, his exuberant farewell echoed faintly through the hall.