"What a fiery gi... lady!" Mr. Redtliff remarks in admiration, standing next to me.

In the meantime, doctors rush onto the field, carefully lowering Pratt onto a stretcher. A relatively young doctor in a white coat swiftly examines the loser, then offers Maya, who has been observing from the side, a brief bow. There's a deliberate respectfulness to this medical gesture. The manager and a representative of the beaver clan approach the girl shortly after, and all three leave the field while in conversation. Yet, it seems like no one notices this except for me. The stands are buzzing with noise and applause; some people are shouting.

People nearby, on the lighting platform, also start to animatedly share their thoughts on what they just witnessed.

"Here, take this," the superintendent hands me four ten-franc notes.

"What?" I had been deep in thought, so I didn't immediately grasp his meaning.

Mr. Redtliff extends his hand, the numbers on his digital watch, switched to stopwatch mode, frozen at forty-six.

"Are you sure you're not a sensum?" Vargo asks when I accept the money.

"Definitely. Otherwise, it would have been mentioned in my medical record," I reply, gathering my thoughts.

Is it just my misfortune to attract attention and guess so accurately? And it's just by chance! After Vargo's words, the other two students gaze at me with suspicion, but the superintendent does not react. Understandably, he must have seen my medical card and numerous other documents.

"So..." Mr. Redtliff begins, drawling the first word as he turns to us, shifting his gaze from the departing Maya. "I have a lot of work to do. Are you staying or?" After glancing at us, he continues, "Then let's go. I'll escort you out the same way to avoid any unnecessary questions from the guards."

After bidding farewell to the stadium workers, who show no signs of dispersing but instead cluster around actively discussing what they saw, our small group departs from the observation deck. As we walk along the corridors, the superintendent exchanges a few words with the people we meet on the way, but we remain silent. The other three students are mostly lost in their own thoughts rather than observing their surroundings. Clearly, the fight left a strong impression on them. I must admit, it did on me too. I did not expect this from the girl.

"Why so quiet?" the superintendent breaks the silence as we leave the arena and venture onto one of the forest paths. "Don't you have anything to say? We just witnessed a historical event." Mr. Redtliff's grin stands in stark contrast to the usual 'heh' I heard earlier. "Indeed, the first duel of a Break Knight in the entire world, and we saw it with our own eyes. When you grow old, you'll be sitting in a rocking chair, swaying back and forth, and narrating this to your grandchildren." His attempt at lifting our spirits is a bit clumsy, but appreciated nonetheless. "So, what are your thoughts on what you saw?"

"Brutal," James is the first to respond.

"Yes! That's the right word," Colin chimes in. "I can't imagine what the guy did, maybe he messed up in some way, but to kill him?"

"However, it seems to me..." Vargo carefully selects his words, "...not everything is as it first appears. I don't understand... No, not the fight itself – that's clear. But why did the representative of the Cestor clan leave with the lady almost arm in arm? His clan's vassal was skewered with a stiletto, and he even seemed pleased with the outcome."

"Izao, what do you think?" I can't stay silent any longer. Following the superintendent's words, all eyes turn to me.

"We were far away," I shrug. "Besides, our view was a bit obstructed. The fight itself was impressive. I think, no matter how controversial it may sound, the clans don't stand a chance against Break Knights in a battle." Everyone nods in agreement with my words. "Also, I don't believe Lady Maya killed Pratt. If he was still breathing after such a blow, when they were putting him on the stretcher... Then the university hospital should be able to save him."

I had planned to let it slide with a few words, but for some reason, I felt the need to defend Maya, though I'm not sure why. I can't accept the idea that Maya could cold-bloodedly commit murder. She had time to weigh and evaluate everything, indicating it wasn't an impulsive act, but a calculated one. More like an execution. However, if this Pratt had been behaving like the scoundrel who intended to assault Yuki, Maya could've indeed killed him, fully aware of her actions. I just lack enough information to draw a definite conclusion.

"I concur with the conclusion regarding the outcome of a battle between a clansman and a Break Knight. Izao is also right about another thing," Mr. Redtliff slows his pace. "This was not a fight, but a theater, a staged scene. Of course, Pratt Dory was not an actor in it, but merely a prop." Assuring himself that he has our attention, the superintendent continues, "A theater with one actor - Lady Maya Grim. She wasn't merely biding her time, as though improvising her actions on the spot. No, everything was premeditated. The pacing, the precision of each duel scene... Vargo, with your keen eye, how could you miss this?"

"I..." Vargo appears chastened by these words. "I got carried away."

"Moving on to 'killed.'" The superintendent snaps his fingers. "That Pratt will be up and running in two weeks as if nothing happened. Didn't you observe how Lady Maya ran her finger across Dory's chest, clearly counting?"

"We did," James speaks on behalf of us all.

"She was counting ribs," Mr. Redtliff pauses, turning to James, placing a finger on his chest, and smoothly trailing down. "One, two, three, and so on. There are specific spots on the human body where a stab wound doesn't cause severe damage, especially with a weapon like a stiletto. Moreover, Lady Maya left the blade in the wound, dramatically reducing blood loss. Lastly, and most importantly, I don't know what type of strike she used to immobilize Pratt so completely, but it was not a simple shock or stun." Noticing our puzzled looks, he clucks his tongue and continues. "If it were, Dory would have fallen and not remained standing. Vargo, as I told you, good analysts pay attention to details."

By the way, what faculty does Vargo belong to? The abbreviation on his badge, "S3," means nothing to me.

"More likely, Lady Maya's strike put her opponent into some form of stasis. And if I'm right, the damage to his health will be minimal. Besides, the head surgeon at the university hospital is a sensum, a Seer. Therefore, as I mentioned earlier, there's no question of anyone being 'killed.' It was a display of power. And no, not just so that nobody would bother the girl in the future..." Swiveling on his heels, the superintendent looks up at the sky. "A demonstration for all."

Mr. Redtliff concludes his monologue, turns, and heads towards the dorm. It seems I'm not the only one who grasped what he meant by "all." So, this duel was a message to the shapeshifters? "Stay away from us" or "don't interfere"? In this case, this ostentatious brutality cannot be considered a reflection of the girl's personal characteristics. The knowledge of the duel came a few hours before it began. Thus, Maya had enough time to consult with other open raigs and, possibly, with the BKDW curators. I'd bet a hundred to one: there was no talk of improvisation - this is even more apparent after the superintendent's words. There's also a layer of political games, clan disputes, and so on. "Alihark's Dogs" are clearly siding with BKDW, and the Cestor clan are the financiers. The military always have disagreements with those who control the purse strings. However, I might be overthinking this.

Moreover, I'm puzzled by Mr. Redtliff's loquaciousness. The pieces of my puzzle aren't fitting together. It's uncharacteristic for a superintendent to behave so openly with his informants. What am I overlooking?

As I walk with the group, I scan the surroundings, lost in thought. Why did he instigate this detailed review under the guise of a thoughtful exchange? It reminded me of a recent test; some problems also have hidden depths. Could there be more to James, Colin, and particularly Vargo than I initially thought? Have I missed something?

As previously mentioned, the students selected by the superintendent behave rather casually and uninhibitedly around him. Such behavior is not typical for mere spies or informants who maintain order. Could they be more than just Mr. Redtliff's aides as I initially thought? If there are other possibilities, then why is he 'babying' them?

It was only when we were nearing the residential complex that a plausible theory struck me. What if the superintendent is also a recruiter for his patron clan? He could be scouting for potential candidates to take the vassal oath for Alihark's Dogs. This makes perfect sense! Where better to look for recruits than among the students of the country's top university? Granted, the boys don't seem like fighters, but even a combat clan requires intellectuals. This could explain not only the 'talkativeness' but also Mr. Redtliff's keen interest in Vargo.

Reevaluating Mr. Redtliff's words with this new insight in mind, the puzzle pieces begin to fit together neatly, even adding a new dimension. He seemed to be downplaying our impression of Maya's strike. This aligns with the theory that the duke's guards, as an entity, are siding with the raigs. Perhaps it's a temporary alliance, but at this moment, it appears certain.

Should I engage in his game? Until the superintendent gets down to the specifics, why not? The advantages of such a collaboration seem quite clear to me. If he makes any propositions, I'll reconsider. For now, I'll adopt this as my primary strategy.

"Izao, you should get changed," the superintendent suggests as we stop at the entrance of the building. "One should dress their best for the rector's formal speech." I can't disagree with him on this.

"Thank you, Mr. Redtliff!" I nod at him. "It was a pleasure meeting you," I shake hands with the students.

"Now then!" The superintendent rubs his hands together. "You each owe me ten francs. Have you forgotten that I paid for Izao on everyone's behalf? Don't think you can pull that trick twice! James, don't pretend you've left your wallet in your room. I can clearly see your back pocket bulging with something..." His words trail off as I pass through the central doors of the dormitory.

Upon the superintendent's advice, I took a shower, changed into clean clothes, polished my shoes, and descended just as the clock struck five minutes to ten. Sophie was already seated on a bench in front of the central fountain of the dorm complex, encircled by four nerds. Nick was yet to arrive.

"Let me make this clear to everyone!" I hadn't even approached the group when I was immediately met with her announcement instead of a greeting. "No more discussion about the duel! I've had enough! I can't stand to hear any more from you either... Nicholas, did you catch that?"

Nick joined us just as she finished her sentence. He yawned widely, making no effort to conceal it.

"Hello, everyone!" he greeted, offering me a separate handshake. "Just woke up. What duel?"

"Ugh!" Sophie rolled her eyes. "Everyone, keep quiet! We're running late! As for the duel, Izao can fill you in later. He had a prime viewing spot." The girl metaphorically tossed a 'hot potato' in my direction.

I hadn't seen her in the stands, but then again, I didn't pay much attention to them. I nodded at Nicholas, silently agreeing to share the details later.

"We need to hurry!" The third-year student urged us on. "I still have to tell you where to stand and how to behave..."

The formal assembly of future students, the speeches by the rector and teachers – it was all rather unexciting and commonplace, but alas, necessary. Even Maya was present in the front rows, although she could have been excused due to the morning's events. She was the subject of sidelong glances and whispers, albeit not too loud. Everyone was already aware that Pratt Dory had undergone surgery and his health was no longer in danger. The tone of the whispers directed at the Knight girl was rather admiring, especially from the boys.

For two and a half hours, we were told that "you've looked, assessed, seen and now"... The usual official "blah-blah-blah," as Nicholas aptly put it.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

But the balloons that the front rows launched into the sky in lieu of a salute – that was beautiful and even somewhat festive. I liked it. After the assembly, Sophie gathered us all and we went for lunch. When Nick and I hinted at a preference for eating separately, she dismissed us and said she didn't want to hear it! So instead, we were subjected to her relentless chatter throughout lunch. An unfair trade-off for a normal conversation, I must say.

Once we'd paid for our meal, Sophie took us on a "farewell" tour along the island's coast, lasting more than two hours. Who in their right mind devised such torment? We were already familiar with everything, but no, we were obliged to follow our guide and listen to her "unearthly wisdom," as the panda aptly put it in one of the cartoons.

However, everything ends eventually, so our "journey" finally concluded. We were allowed to purchase refreshments before being taken to the stadium.

I can't say I fully grasped the game itself. Not all rules were clear, and even Izao's memories didn't provide much assistance. The sports team candidates played against our university's reserve team.

Even without comprehending the specifics, I found myself rather enjoying it. It was the typical rough and tumble, men's game: the players' bones clashing in a way that seemed audible even from the upper tiers of the stadium. It didn't involve kicking a ball like traditional rugby. Penalties were judged differently, with the offending player taken out for two minutes, which added an element of dynamism. Nick was not an avid fan, but unlike the rest of our group, he enthusiastically joined in my chants and shouts. Yes, I wasn't shy about screaming, despite not really knowing who to cheer for. I wanted to vent the emotions that had built up, and the match proved to be an excellent outlet for that. The reserve team ultimately defeated the contenders, but Tom stood out amongst the other players. I believe he'll make the main team. Perhaps, not in the first year. But even to such a novice as myself, it was evident that he performed better in his position than anyone else on the field that day.

After the match, Sophie took us to the apartment complex. Our farewell to her was somewhat emotional. She hugged everyone and even seemed to shed a tear.

Nick and I exchanged phone numbers, but he cautioned that he'd be visiting his parents and wouldn't be in the capital until the first of September. Nonetheless, he assured me that he'd always be happy to chat.

I returned to my room, packed my suitcase, tidied everything up, and arranged the beds perfectly. After a brief rest, I descended to the lobby.

Mr. Redtliff was stationed at the main dorm entrance, bidding farewell to departing students. Mrs. Lando, whom I had previously met, assisted him with the paperwork.

"Izao!" the superintendent greeted me with feigned delight, the second time that day.

"Mr. Redtliff, Mrs. Lando," I reciprocated, bowing and handing over my keys.

"Sign here. Right. I'm certain you've read the rules and left the room in immaculate condition, correct?" His query was rhetorical, but I responded nonetheless.

"Of course, Mr. Redtliff," I nodded in confirmation.

"See you on the first day!"

We shook hands and went our separate ways.

I expected Sophie to accompany us to the buses, but she was absent. I waited for Nick, but he was nowhere in sight. A student from his dorm informed me he had left ten minutes prior. This minor detail, for some reason, left me feeling somewhat disappointed.

In the bustling crowd, I made my way to the buses. While searching for my own bus, I noticed Tom stowing a suitcase into the luggage compartment. Approaching him, I extended an open hand.

"Thank you."

He hesitated for a second before shaking my hand.

"It's nothing."

"There is something, and you know it."

"Pfft." The athlete chose not to respond to my remark.

"I saw the game. You were outstanding."

"You don't have to... It doesn't suit you." What did he mean by that?

"But I genuinely..." Damn, it's pointless to argue from behind, and he had already turned and climbed into his bus.

Well, that was it. I had thanked him, and that was enough. With that in mind, I located my bus, loaded my suitcase, and took my assigned seat.

I arrived home just as the sun was setting. No trams or dedicated lanes could save you from those reckless drivers who crash on the rails when turning. A minor accident forced me to disembark and walk two blocks. The temptation to slip into the Break was strong, but given Mr. Redtliff's increased scrutiny and my encounter with Maya, I refrained.

As soon as I entered the apartment, I kicked my suitcase aside with vehemence. The unexpected walk had made me loathe it! I changed into comfortable home clothes and collapsed on the bed. However, relaxation evaded me: I felt an alien presence in every shadow or fluttering of the curtains. Maya had spied on me from the Break once before - could she do it again? I understood that given her recent experiences, it was unlikely she had the time for it, but you can't control your nerves.

I lay staring at the ceiling for half an hour, which only worsened my anxiety; my nerves felt increasingly on edge. I'd been out of the Break for quite some time, and the hormonal influx of my young body was taking a toll. Izao had been rather timid, perhaps why I inherited "Purity" from him, so to speak. Because "Purity" isn't exactly a direct legacy. I don't have enough data yet, but the theory that raig swords complement their wielders appears increasingly credible and plausible. That's why my sword is "Word," and the sincere, but passive and fearful Izao, had "Purity." I don't know how accurate this theory is, but for now, it's satisfying that it arranges all the known facts into a coherent narrative.

Understanding that lying on the bed was only amplifying my anxiety, I rose and switched on my computer. Having been disconnected from the news cycle for a week, I needed to catch up. Not that the university had prohibited news, it just so happened that I didn't have the time.

I opened my web browser, ready to delve into my bookmarked news websites, and the first headline unsettled me slightly. That afternoon in Vienna, the BKDA organization - Break Knights Defenders of Austria - was officially presented. Diana Horn's visit to Wilflaes hadn't been in vain! I considered this somewhat positive news. The more raigs that are visible, the better it is for all the Knights and society at large. BKDA had six open raigs and ten undisclosed Knights. I examined all the projection images and recognized one - a golden raig, the armored axeman with whom I'd crossed paths in the Egyptian desert, the one who, similar to me, had defeated all the doppelgängers.

The number of Break Knights who had decided to reveal their identities impressed me. Evidently, the analysis conducted in Vienna, based on the activities of the BKDW, had been overwhelmingly positive. I hoped that the establishment of the BKDA would trigger a ripple effect, leading to the creation of similar organizations worldwide.

Apart from that, the news was mundane, nothing out of the ordinary or particularly eye-catching. Mostly trivialities, although the crime report for the week was dotted with several dangerous repeat offenders who were apprehended and handed over to the police by raigs. This certainly boosted the Knights' image in the eyes of the general public.

I found no mention of the duel at the university, although there were whispers of it on the BKDW website. The fact that there was a censorship system at play in Novilter wasn't news to me, but this was the first time I'd stumbled upon such clear evidence.

On the surface, the overall situation seemed relatively positive, which, from my experience, usually means you're overlooking something. It would be beneficial to explore the news in the restricted section of the BKDW website, intended solely for raigs. It's a reasonable idea, but there's a caveat: if I were to show up online today or tomorrow, a keen analyst might get suspicious and start digging. Why? Because the correlation between the university trip for future students and my appearance on a private forum might lead someone to draw a strange parallel. It would be best to wait and avoid logging onto the organization's website under my username any sooner than the day after tomorrow.

Having finished catching up on the news, I downloaded a couple of episodes from a series I had been anticipating. Transferring the visual output to my TV, I settled back into bed. Miraculously, watching the video somewhat eased my nerves, and I stopped perceiving ominous presences lurking behind every shadow. Since the following day was a day off, I deactivated my alarm, made myself comfortable, and attempted to drift off to sleep.

Murphy's Law seemed to firmly hold its place in life. Why was it that when I had a day off, when I didn't need to rush anywhere or rise early, I found myself awake at the crack of dawn, utterly devoid of sleepiness?

After about fifteen minutes of restlessness, I accepted that sleep was out of reach. I made my way to the refrigerator, only to remember that I hadn't shopped for groceries the previous day and had no desire to prepare the week-old, semi-cooked products lingering in my fridge. My stomach grumbled in protest, but the prospect of frying the frozen cutlets didn't appeal to me. The clock indicated it was seven in the morning, and the cafes were still closed. Consequently, I had to settle for a cup of tea in lieu of a proper breakfast. To distract myself from my hunger, I began my training routine.

Initially, it was tough: the impact of several exercise-free days was evident. However, I didn't yield. I pushed past the "I can't" and "it won't work," slowly finding my rhythm. By nine o'clock, I was so spent that I could barely muster the strength for a shower. Regardless, I showered, changed, and went for a walk. I wished I had scheduled my meeting with the Padawans for today instead of tomorrow; now, I had no plans.

Ultimately, I spent the entire day on domestic chores. I had breakfast at a nearby cafe, enjoyed a short walk, and then did some grocery shopping. Back home, I undertook a thorough clean-up, which was long overdue, and washed all my laundry. I interspersed these tasks with bouts of training. Although it felt as if I'd done very little, evening arrived surprisingly quickly. Before going to bed, I read a couple of volumes of manga. I then set the alarm, switched off the lights, and turned in for the night.

Upon waking, I found myself staring at my hands for an extended period. I couldn't remember the entirety of my dream, but I distinctly remembered being a fox, complete with paws, a tail, and a long snout. The dream was so vivid that it took me an additional five minutes after switching off my alarm to readjust to my human form. Such a peculiar sensation. Had I ingested hallucinogenic mushrooms or LSD?

An hour of morning exercise effectively realigned my mind. The memories of the dream had faded, and by the time I sat down for a cup of tea, they seemed more comical than bizarre.

Before changing into my motorcycle suit, I discretely scanned my apartment several times, as though continuing my cleaning spree. But, predictably, I found no signs of another's presence, spectral or otherwise. Only after quelling my paranoia in this way did I finish getting ready and take a circuitous route to the stadium.

None of the Padawans appeared at the designated time. I waited another half an hour, but Dobrynya and Baenre were nowhere to be found. It was fortunate that in the Break, my reactions were more placid than in reality; otherwise, I would have been gnawing on my nails. After another ten minutes, an obvious conclusion began to dawn on me: the guys weren't going to show up today.

Could I have mixed up the days?

No, the date was correct.

What could have happened?

Did they get into some sort of trouble?

Stop panicking!

Before allowing myself to get all worked up and anxious, I needed to check the emergency phone. The instant this thought occurred to me, I sprinted towards the western part of the city where my phone was concealed.