Chapter 54 - The Great Third Years

As we slipped through the backstage area, I absentmindedly ran my fingers through Myrrh's silky, smooth hair, the sensation akin to stroking the finest velvet. She remained silent, though her cheeks were tinged with a delicate pink, her icy-blue eyes flickering with a mix of embarrassment and a cold, distant glare. Despite her stoic demeanor, she made no move to protest, allowing my hand to linger as if she were a reluctant pet indulging her owner's whims.

The hallway ahead was dimly lit, the faint hum of distant machinery creating an almost reverent silence. As we turned a corner, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows. Her silver hair shimmered under the dim light, flowing like molten silver, and her amber eyes glinted with a sharp intelligence. A red armband on her sleeve marked her as a senior, but it was her regal bearing that truly stood out—Michelle Gehabich moved with the grace of an aristocrat, each step purposeful and measured, like a sheltered princess navigating her domain.

By her side stood a towering man with a perpetually impassive expression. His uninterested eyes scanned the area as if everything around him were beneath his notice. He bore the same red armband, marking him as part of her support unit, and his stiff posture exuded the air of an unyielding sentinel.

"Oh, congratulations on your win, Mister," Michelle said, her voice smooth and polished, carrying a faint note of amusement.

"Thank you, senior," I replied, offering her a polite smile as I continued to stroke Myrrh's head, much to her silent dismay.

Michelle tilted her head slightly, her silver locks cascading like a waterfall over her shoulder. Her curiosity gleamed openly as she asked, "That weapon you used—Lightning Storm, was it? I've never seen anything like it. Was that your partner's Ultimate?"

The question caught me off guard. Myrrh stiffened beneath my hand, her frosty gaze snapping toward me like a blade made of ice. Reluctantly, I withdrew my hand, trying to mask my unease with a faint smile. "Yes," I replied, the lie slipping out smoothly, though it felt like a stone lodged in my throat.

Michelle's amber eyes flicked toward Myrrh, studying her with an unsettling intensity. "Oh, that's an incredible Ultimate. But yesterday, you had those spiky sword-wings. Does your Ultimate change forms?"

My heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, my entire body tensed. Of all people, it had to be Michelle who noticed such a minute detail. Her perceptiveness felt like a scalpel, cutting closer to truths I couldn't afford to reveal. The Blade Wing she mentioned was Myrrh's true Ultimate, a manifestation of her own power. The Lightning Storm, on the other hand, was a weapon of devastation—a WMD Series gifted by the enigmatic Machine God.

I couldn't let her—or anyone—know about the system that linked me to that foreign entity. The stakes were too high, and the consequences of discovery too dire.

"It depends on my opponent," Myrrh interjected smoothly, her voice calm yet carrying an edge of authority. Her words spared me from the burden of crafting another lie. "My 'Wings' can adapt, taking different forms depending on the situation."

"Oh, so you're an adaptive type. I see." Michelle nodded thoughtfully, her slender fingers coming up to rest lightly on her chin. Her amber eyes seemed to glaze over, lost in a moment of quiet contemplation, as if she were analyzing Myrrh's statement for hidden meanings.

Meanwhile, her towering partner remained an island of indifference. His gaze, cold and unwavering, lingered somewhere above my shoulder, completely detached from the conversation. The disinterest etched on his face made it clear that our exchange barely registered to him. Yet, his silent vigilance gave him an air of understated menace, like a blade concealed in plain sight.

When Michelle's musings seemed to stretch too long, he finally broke his silence, leaning slightly toward her to murmur in a deep, quiet tone, "Mich, it's time for our match."

"Oh, right." Michelle's thoughtful expression softened into a warm smile, and she turned back to us. "Good luck in the next rounds!" she said, her voice carrying an easy cheerfulness as she gave a small wave.

"Yeah, you too!" I replied, mirroring her wave with a polite smile.

Beside me, Myrrh followed suit, offering a small, graceful wave of her own. The movement was subtle, almost hesitant, but her eyes betrayed a quiet determination that contrasted with her outward composure.

As Michelle and her partner walked away, their retreating figures seemed to carry an unspoken weight. The soft click of Michelle's heels echoed faintly in the corridor, while her partner's measured strides moved in perfect sync, his presence as stoic as ever.

As the two third-years made their way toward the arena, Myrrh and I headed in the opposite direction, our paths diverging like two rivers flowing toward different destinies. The distant roar of the crowd faded with each step, leaving only the echo of our footsteps in the quiet corridor.

As we walked, a memory of how soft Myrrh's hair felt earlier resurfaced, and without much thought, I reached out to pat her head again, letting my hand glide over those silken strands.

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This time, however, I wasn't met with silent tolerance. Myrrh's icy-blue eyes snapped up at me, sharp and unforgiving, like twin daggers poised to strike. Her delicate brows furrowed into a deep frown, and with a swift motion, she swatted my hand away before driving her elbow into my stomach.

"Ugh! Ow!" I recoiled, clutching my midsection. The blow wasn't strong, but it was enough to knock the wind out of me and leave me momentarily stunned. "What was that for!?"

"You stupid goon!" she hissed, her voice a sharp whisper that somehow felt louder than a shout. "Why did you use your powers like that, and in the open? Never mind that—everybody saw it, probably even on social media! Did you forget the entire Licensure Examination Tournament is being live-streamed?"

Her words hit harder than her elbow, and my stomach sank. "Oh, shit, you're right!" I blurted, my face twisting in realization. "But hey, it wasn't my fault for showing off my special abilities! It was your fault, you prideful brat!"

Myrrh's pout deepened, her cheeks puffing out in a way that almost made her frustration endearing—almost. "Well, I'm partly to blame for that," she admitted, crossing her arms and glaring at me. "But you could've used that ace my mom taught you instead of panicking. You're the one who forgot to keep your powers a secret."

"Welp, what's done is done," I said, shrugging helplessly. "We both acted on our impulses, so let's just agree we're fifty-fifty to blame for this mess. Besides, nobody seemed to notice anything. Even our upperclassman thought it was your Ultimate. You even came up with that quick explanation about your wings changing forms."

I forced a smile, hoping to ease the tension, but Myrrh's expression didn't soften. She stared at me for a moment longer before letting out a soft, exasperated sigh, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

"You may be off the hook for now," Myrrh said, her tone carrying a warning edge, "but it won't be long before you get discovered if you keep recklessly using your WMDs. That Michelle woman is already watching you closely, so you'd better be careful from now on."

I couldn't resist poking fun at her seriousness, a mischievous smirk curling on my lips. "There you go again—getting jealous, aren't you?"

"It's not about jealousy, you stupid imbecile!" she snapped, her voice rising with frustration as her foot slammed against the floor in an angry stomp. The sharp sound echoed in the hallway, emphasizing the depth of her irritation.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry," I said, holding up my hands in mock surrender before reaching out to ruffle her hair again. "There, there." My tone was teasing, as if to dispel the tension with a bit of playful affection.

But Myrrh was having none of it. Her patience had long since worn thin. With a swift motion, she batted my hand away, her icy-blue eyes narrowing in pure exasperation. "Don't touch me!" she cried, her voice laced with indignation. "You're ruining my hair!"

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A message buzzed on Myrrh's communicator, and she quickly glanced at it. "It's from Cindy," she said. "They're waiting at Lounge Number 3—our usual spot since yesterday."

With that, we made our way there. The lounge was cozy, with warm lighting and cushioned chairs scattered around. When we entered, we found Remuel and Cindy sprawled on the couch, each holding a can of soda. Their eyes were glued to the TV screen mounted on the wall, which displayed the ongoing Licensure Examination matches.

Just as we approached, Dianca's enthusiastic voice rang out from the livestream speakers. "And the winner for this match is Examinee Number 1!"

I turned my attention to the screen and felt a jolt of surprise. There she was—the silver-haired Michelle Gehabich, smiling brightly as she waved at the camera. Her demeanor was graceful yet playful, the perfect picture of a victorious competitor.

"That was fast! We were just talking to her a minute ago!" Myrrh exclaimed, her hands on her hips as she stared at the screen in disbelief.

"Damn, we completely missed the fight," I muttered, feeling a pang of regret for not sticking around to watch.

Remuel turned to me, his face pale and his expression frozen in awe. "That WAIFU is incredible, but her support unit? A total monster. You should've seen it."

"What? How did she win?" I asked, curiosity piqued. "Was it some kind of flashy Ultimate?"

"No," Cindy replied, shaking her head as she took a sip of her soda. Her reddish-short hair swayed slightly with the motion. "Drones."

"Drones?" I echoed, tilting my head in confusion. I glanced at Myrrh for clarification, but she just shrugged, her expression mirroring my bewilderment.

Cindy leaned back on the couch, smirking as if she held some insider knowledge. "You had to see it to believe it. They weren't just drones; they moved like an extension of her will. Precise. Lethal."

Remuel nodded vigorously, the awe still evident on his face. "Her support unit controlled them like a symphony conductor. It wasn't flashy, but it was terrifyingly efficient. The opponent didn't stand a chance. It was like: Pew! Pew! Kaboom!"

Suddenly, hushed whispers drifted from behind us. Curious, I turned around and spotted a group of third-years with red armbands, huddled together and speaking in animated tones. Their voices, though low, carried just enough for snippets of their conversation to reach my ears.

"Is that Michelle Gehabich and her partner Aurelio Monsieur?" one of the girls murmured, her voice tinged with awe.

"Gosh, Aurelio is so handsome! And did you see how he controlled those drones?" another girl chimed in, practically swooning.

"I saw it! But don't forget Michelle—she's not just cute; she's strong and cool! Did you know she's the valedictorian of the third years? She's the valedictorian in my heart as well!"

"Wait, are you saying you swing that way?" teased a third girl, her tone playful. "Too bad, though. Word is they're already a pair. I heard they've been together since last year, and they've dominated the Dean's List—first and second place—for three years straight!"

"But I'm open for a threesome!" the second girl declared boldly, her voice dropping slightly, though not enough to escape my hearing.

"Make that a foursome, and I'm in!" the first girl added with a giggle.

I turned back toward the others, deciding it was best to ignore the desperate, perverted musings of the girls behind us. Still, the whispers weren't without value—they painted a clearer picture of Michelle and Aurelio's capabilities. A valedictorian and a battlefield powerhouse? If even half of what they said was true, those two were a formidable duo.

Leaning closer to Myrrh, I muttered, "It seems Michelle and Aurelio are a force to be reckoned with. Let's just hope we can get our five wins quickly and avoid facing them in this tournament."

Myrrh nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Yeah. We've got enough on our plate without running into them."