Staying home for a handful of days, with his mother at work and his sister at school, meant being alone for a solid chunk of Alexander's waking hours. Being alone meant having no choice but to mull over each of his memories and experiences, the painful and agonizing seconds and minutes he went through in hell.

He had already seen Keiran's face and heard his voice in his dreams at night. Well, in his nightmares. From that alone, he packed his bag and sent himself to school in the morning to distract himself.

Of course, that meant having to go through his friends, who all but one had thought he had remained dead. Expectedly, there were cries of shock and confusion, and calls for explanations from them all. Leonard even fell to his knees and wept.

Thankfully, Alexander wasn't a messiah of any kind. Coming back before the third day helped that notion.

As he explained his circumstance, he helped Leonard up and forced the conversation to move along to something else. Of course, it was difficult to talk about something else when a dear friend had died and been reborn.

Concentrating in any class would prove to be the same kind of trouble. For better or worse, the whole school would be crammed into the auditorium for a presentation. Mr. Tucker only alerted them by sticking a sign to his door of where to go.

And so, all they had in the morning was to make their way to the auditorium. Already filled, they were forced to find seats in the back, distanced from the speakers.

Nearly half of the teachers of the school had been summoned into the auditorium as well, sitting at an assortment of grey and plastic tables in front of an immense screen that covered nearly half of the building's wall. It was shut off, but considering its size, Alexander guessed those in the back like himself would have no trouble seeing what it could display.

Alexander, having missed days from being imprisoned and in court as well the two days of literally being dead, had not heard a single thing of the branch battles this year. Liam filled him in with whatever he had to know, which was plenty, considering that Liam had undergone these same battles two years prior.

"I'll just clarify right now to you," he whispered. "I'm surprised New York won that year. Because I did horribly. Like, I weighed everyone down. That's why I ended up being a Grade 5 magician for a year and a half."

Alexander's eyebrows instinctively furrowed. "You used to be a Grade 5?!"

For the past year that Alexander had known Liam, he had always thought his friend was a young man of immense power. After all, he was. Liam had cultivated his magic to reach astounding speeds and incredible strengths. It was almost saddening to consider that he had not always been of that caliber.

Liam shushed him immediately. "Don't share that. But yeah, I was. This kid named Keith Miler knocked me out. Same guy that bruised up Gabriel yesterday."

Alexander turned to the side and once again looked into Gabriel's black eye. No demon had beaten him that badly before. He shuddered at the thought of a single man, no, just a student with such a gap in strength with Gabriel Archibald.

Even as the teachers spoke of the battles and their formatting, Alexander's focus remained nonexistent. Unfortunately, Alexander's mind lingered away from his hearing and drifted to Adam and the sword he brought into the house.

Alexander had overcome death itself, and Adam arrived only on business matters. Nothing of his son. Alexander didn't care for it, or so he told himself. He quickly moved on from those 'matters and wrapped that blade in the same crimson blanket first, and a white towel second. He tied it together with some string and hid it under the sofa. From there, he only prayed he could forget its existence altogether and move on in life.

He knew that was impossible, however, as it continued to whisper to him as he brushed by the couch to leave the house.

Alexander regained his focus when a somewhat familiar face took the microphone and spoke to the students. He had never seen her in person, only through the TV from the countless interviews she gave before and after missions and battles.

The woman was blonde and green-eyed. She was thin, but the very air around her was heavy as she took her steps forward. Her very gait, her posture carried a sense of sturdiness, strength itself that struck each student's eyes.

She was a Paladin, named Sophia Tucker. Rumor had it that, second only to the great Charles Archibald himself, she had the highest amount of pure magical energy coursing through her body. She surpassed the difficulties that came with such a vast surplus and perfected her energy— magic itself. It was ironic how she had made a husband out of one of the few humans on Midgard to not carry magic whatsoever.

Alexander related to her through that. Up until the last few months, Alexander had thought he was just like Madam Tucker, a magician without an affinity. Although thankful he developed dark magic while on Vanaheim, he had carelessly and regrettably neglected its practice.

He made a mental note about forcing himself to perfect his magic.

Still, the Paladin without an affinity only grew stronger through her meticulous concentration of magic itself and its purity, manipulating every atom and particle involved in the energy in her cells and the world around her. And so, she was nicknamed, 'the Magician', standing above nearly all other wizards and mages. Thus was the regard of the High-Grades.

She dove into details of the branch royale.

The Branch Royale– a battle between the branches of each nation, or in some regions, the branches of different countries. Those battles are watched worldwide, spectated by dozens of millions throughout the Norteon Union.

"We at the New York branch won the royale last year, and accumulated the most points over the entire competition. We will hold the same standards for you this year. So no pressure."

Leonard sat in front of Alexander, his eyes buried into his phone screen, reviewing some statistics and percentages that Alexander couldn't make out. He tapped Leonard's shoulder, and as if he already understood, began to explain through his muttering.

"Last year..." he said, tilting his screen to make it more visible for Alexander. "We had the most views too. More than the Iberian competition, the one in Scandanavia, Italy... More than all of them combined actually. Only Britannia got remotely close."

Sophia turned around and faced a grand black screen behind her. It lit up, initially blinding any student or teacher in the front rows. To those in the back, however, the image was clear. A green dot surrounded by a deep blue. An island, being pictured from above.

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"This year, the Royale itself will take place on the Argo, an artificial island roughly 350 kilometers from our coast. It was completed just a handful of months ago, so don't be shocked if you haven't heard of it. It doesn't exist on Earth. And its climate, weather patterns, geography, et cetera... are all under the control of the Association. And so, the matters of the island itself will be unknown to participants until the day of the battle."

She stared at the island herself and smirked. "It might sound like a crazy idea, but believe me, it's a hell of a lot better than doing it in the same forests and same deserts and hills that we used to."

Mukuro Tucker snickered. He leaned close to his wife and whispered, "Remember our year? They had it on Alcatraz just to make it different."

Sophia's eyes lit up with glee as she recalled the events. "Oh, that was beautiful. I had to save your life a couple of times," she giggled.

"You destroyed so much property, too."

"All for you," she said with a smile.

The silence of the auditorium brought her back to present reality. She cleared her throat and took another pause to consider what to speak of next. "Uh... Right." The Paladin continued. "Regardless of age, only first-year students can participate in the royale itself. Other competitions are open for upperclassmen to achieve a rank and status in the verification of the Association, which details will be specified in the forms your general studies teacher should have passed to you today."

The Virtues stared at each other, trading whispers and glances. After all, they didn't have Mr. Tucker's General Magical Studies class that morning. Mukuro Tucker only plastered a sign pointing to the auditorium and a message to rush over there.

At that moment, Mr. Tucker scratched the side of his neck as if he was telling himself to 'act natural'.

Still, the disappointment of Mr. Tucker's students only lasted a moment, quickly fading away with Sophia Tucker's next announcement. "However–" she began. "–this year there will be one notable exception."

A hush fell over the auditorium.

"A third-year from the Houston branch will be participating in the royale. His name is Keith Miller." And with a wave of her hand, the large screen shifted and lit up with an image of the boy's face, as if it were a mugshot.

"But it's against the rules!" the crowd cried out.

"If their third-years can participate, ours should too!" others shouted.

"Abolish the Texan branch!" a scream rang.

While the students screamed in outrage and complained over the slightest rule-changing, Anastasia reached into her hoodie pocket and pulled out a small loaf of bread.

Her eyes met Alexander's as she gingerly held the bread. She took in a deep breath and squeezed down on the load until she managed to split it in two. Now apart, she handed a half to Alexander.

The boy smiled at her and gingerly accepted the bread.

"My grandma made it. So let me know what you think," she whispered.

Alexander nodded in response and took a bite. As he chewed, he turned his attention to the screen, staring into the verdant eyes of the boy with tanned skin and a thick neck. His hair was short and brown, spiked up with gel. Those verdant eyes of his were fierce, Alexander could tell, but not through the tribulations he had endured, but because of his natural spirit.

A fighter like that had to be feared.

He shrugged and took popped another piece of bread into his mouth.

The Paladin cleared her throat, and another wave of silence rushed over the students. Mr. Tucker smirked at the sight. "It is an official exception decreed by the Association itself. But I understand why you must complain. In fact, I understand even more, since I know what he's capable of. I witnessed everything he did as a first-year. And he's only gotten stronger since then. You can't blindly attack him. He's an opponent you have to prepare against. And so, I'm declaring right now... We will have to choose one student to take him on. One of you will face this monster."

Even as she finished speaking, the students remained quiet. Only slight mumbles were heard as they whispered to one another. Until...

Gabriel raised his hand. With his long white sleeve sliding down his arm, his blue bruises were exposed. But even without seeing his bare arm, his injuries were clear to see for all, with his black eye and somewhat swollen cheek.

Despite being a mere first-year, everyone in school knew Gabriel Archibald. Like all of his surname, he was strong.

That's why the sight of his bruised face shocked them all.

He could have been healed over the past two days to avoid the shame of having hundreds of students look into his bruises. But he refused. He rejected his pride and decided to bear the burning pain in each of his injured bones and muscles.

"My bruises were caused by this Kieth Miller," he announced. "This message is for all of the other first-years that think they have a chance. Because long story short, you don't. I cannot beat him. I can't even come close."

Murmurs again began to take root and spread among the first-years on the idea of this horrifically powerful Keith Miller, while the upperclassmen considered how an Archibald would share their own weaknesses.

"In my opinion... There's only one first-year who can beat him. Well, there's only one student in this whole school who can. He just happens to be a first-year." Gabriel smirked. "If they were to fight unarmed... In just a simple fistfight, Alexander Lane would win."

Alexander's eyes widened as he noticed the auditorium turning to him. His mouth was still full of bread. He continued chewing until he swallowed the final chunks, his gulp echoing. He turned to his side and faced Anastasia, who nodded.

That slight reassurance was enough for him. Alexander turned back to face the center of the room and led his eyes down to the Paladin. She stared at him, the Demon-Born who had been the root of quite a bit of rumors among the Association.

"Alright." That was all he said.

He wore Anastasia's black hoodie, along with a pair of dark sweatpants. Just from that alone, he looked nothing more than scrawny.

"This kid?" a third-year asked from within the crowd of students with a point of his finger. He seemed to be years older than Alexander, and clearly not a fighter in any regard. "He's like 15!"

"I'm 16," Alexander clarified. "But... Yeah. I can beat him." He projected his voice further until it echoed in the chamber. "If he's coming at me with nothing but his fists... I'll take care of him– with nothing but mine."

Alexander spoke with confidence and deliberately avoided using any words of 'probably' or 'maybe'. After all, someone had to handle this third-year. Gabriel's lack of confidence in everyone else had to mean something. Gabriel's encouragement to Alexander meant even more.

He took in a deep breath and nodded at the Paladin.

She smiled and faced the students again, declaring, "If you would like to participate in any of the challenges, please visit the sign-up sheets at the main office.

With the conclusion of the presentation, the Virtues engaged in some quick bickering to decide what would be best for each of them– on the matters of the royale, individual competitions, and so on and so forth.

It wasn't long before they each went separate ways with separate ideas. Four of the Virtues began making their way to the main office to declare their willingness to participate in the royale.

"I heard from my dad they're thinking of making it a forest. I'd say that where you'd fight best," Gabriel told him. "Considering how well you did on Vanaheim."

Alexander laughed. "Why would they make it a forest? There are forests everywhere. It kinda seems like a waste to create an entire island just to make it a forest."

Leonard turned around and walked backward, purely so he could look Alexander in the eyes while he spoke. "I don't care where it's all. All I'm saying is that you shouldn't get cocky. You didn't see what he did to Gabriel."

"Well, I saw the aftermath," Alexander responded. He smiled and spoke, "Listen, all I need is a proper plan and I'll be fine no matter what. I'm not worried."

A hollow thud rang out as Leonard bumped into a figure behind him. The impact sent him to the floor, only capable of looking up at the hulking shadow before him.

It was the Houston third-year, getting his teeth as he stared down at Leonard. "Oh, did I step on you?" Keith Miller asked. "Sorry about that. I mistook you for a roach."

With one swift moment, Alexander gripped the back of Leonard's hood and yanked him back, sending him to slide backward on the wooden floor. Now it was Alexander that faced Keith. "The battles start next week, no? You should know that instigating is optional."

Keith smirked. "You seem pretty bold. If you're a first-year, I'll be hoping to see you in the royale."

"You will," Gabriel spoke up. "Miller. This is Alexander Lane. The one who was elected to stop you."

The third-year turned to Gabriel and grinned at seeing his bruises and still black eye. "Is that so? You're Alexander Lane?"

Alexander nodded.

"Good, good, good. I've heard good things about you..." The young man clenched his jaw and began to squeeze his fists shut. "What do you say we fight right now?"