The morning light filled the academy's hallways, but Garrik's mood was as dark as ever. His heavy boots hit the polished floor like thunder. Students rushed out of his path, heads down, moving quickly.
His towering frame and foul temper ensured no one stood in his way. Normally, Garrik would enjoy this display of fear—proof of his control. But not today. Today, he was furious.
He'd never been humiliated like this before. The academy's Bronze section had six classes total—three years, two classes each. Garrik had declared himself the ruler of them all. He was the self-proclaimed king of the Bronze, ruling through fear and brute strength.
Everyone bowed to him, obeyed him. Until now. Leonhardt Caulem—a boy Garrik had tormented like a ragdoll for years—had outright rejected his summon. Brushing him off with a simple "I'm busy." Garrik's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding as he stormed toward Bronze 2A.
Arriving at the door, Garrik shoved it open hard. The loud bang silenced the room instantly. Students froze in their seats, pale and quiet. No one dared to speak.
"Where's that son of a bitch?" Garrik growled, his voice sharp and threatening.
One of his lackeys hesitated, then pointed to the far corner. "Over there, boss."
Garrik turned his gaze. At the back of the room, Leonhardt—or rather, Reo—sat calmly. But what he saw made Garrik's fury worse.
Reo sat at his desk, his legs propped up on desk casually. His chair leaned back at a lazy angle, and a book rested over his face. He was asleep.
The vein in Garrik's temple throbbed as he stomped forward, towering over Reo's desk. Surely, the boy would sense him, wake up, and panic like he always used to.
But Reo didn't move.
One of Garrik's lackeys, desperate to calm him, stepped forward quickly. "I'll wake him up, boss."
He reached for the book, but before his fingers could touch it, Reo's hand shot up. His grip locked onto the boy's wrist with surprising strength. The crack of bones grinding under pressure echoed through the silent classroom, followed by the lackey's whimpering cry.
Without even sitting up, Reo tightened his grip just enough to make his point. Then, slowly, he removed the book from his face, revealing half-lidded crimson eyes, messy red hair framed his face.
"What's the fuss?" he asked, yawning lazily. His tone was calm, unaffected. Stretching, he smoothed his hair casually before letting go of the lackey's wrist. The boy fell to the floor, clutching his arm and scrambling back in pain.
Reo turned to his seat neighbor, Flank, who was trying hard not to be noticed. "Flank," Reo called, raising an eyebrow. "What happened? I told you not to let anyone wake me up unless the professor arrived."
Flank mumbled something under his breath, refusing to meet Reo's gaze.
Reo sighed, finally shifting his attention to Garrik. He leaned back in his chair, his crimson eyes sizing the older boy up lazily. "You're blocking most of my view," Reo said, his tone sharp yet indifferent. "Who are you?"
Garrik's face twisted in disbelief. Before he could respond, one of his lackeys shouted, "That's leader Garrik, you idiot! Show some respect!"
The lackey lunged forward, throwing a punch, but Reo didn't move. Instead, he tilted his chair back, his movements slow and effortless.
The punch missed entirely, the lackey stumbling forward and crashing into the desk. Reo sighed, leaning to the side as the boy fell to the floor with a loud thud.
Reo stood slowly, his posture calm but commanding, and placed his foot lightly on the lackey's head. Turning to Garrik, his smirk deepened. "Ah, Garrik," he said, mocking.
"The self-proclaimed leader of the Bronze. Right?" He tapped his temple lightly with his fist. "Sorry, I must have forgotten while I was… busy."
His crimson eyes glinted, narrowing like a beast stalking prey. "What's your deal with me?" he said.
"I told your errand boy I'm busy."
He pressed his boot harder into the lackey's skull, drawing a pitiful whimper. "You want words? Fine. Five minutes this afternoon. After that, I'm gone," he muttered.
Garrik's lips curled back, teeth bared like a cornered animal. "You've lost it, Leonhardt. Dodged death and now you think you're something? You were a sniveling little worm I crushed into the dirt."
Reo's smirk twitched as Leonhardt's memories surged forward—sharp, bloody, unrelenting.
Last year, a trembling rookie at Obsidian Academy, he'd been fresh meat. Garrik had mocked Leonhardt's weakness, his lack of a resonance weapon.
Leonhardt, desperate and naive, had challenged him to an honor duel.
The arena had been a slaughter. Garrik used him as a punching bag.
Then the real punishment began. A fist cracked Leonhardt's jaw, blood spraying.
Garrik grabbed his throat, hoisting him up, and drove a knee into his gut—ribs snapped like twigs.
Dropped to the dirt, Leonhardt clawed for air, only for Garrik to stomp his spine, flattening him with a crunch. "I give up," he'd wheezed, voice lost in the muck, too faint for the referee.
The giant crouched, grinning coldly. "What's that, runt?"
"Please… let me go," Leonhardt begged, voice breaking.
Garrik's smile turned feral. "But he ordered to break you." His gauntlet swung, smashing Leonhardt's chest, sending him hurtling across the arena. He slammed into the rock wall—bones broke, body crumpled, blood pooling as he lay wrecked.
Through fading eyes, Leonhardt saw Prince Cassian in the stands, smirking, pleased.
Reo came back, fist tapping his temple, eyes squeezing shut. When they flicked open, they burned, locking on Garrik. "You fukin woke me up and spouting nonsense," he said.
"That made me pissed off."
Garrik's scowl didn't waver. "What's you gonna do? Complaint to staff?"
Reo's grin widened, raw and savage. He crushed his boot down harder, the lackey gagging, then leaned in. "I'm gonna beat the fuck of you in duel," he spat, voice ringing like a war drum. Students flinched, eyes wide, fear and awe clashing. "I'll fuck you so that you will piss in sight of me."
Garrik staggered, face twisting. "You're what?"
Reo stepped closer, nose-to-nose, heat rolling off him. "the official honour duel, Garrik."
Garrik's eyes flared. "You're dreaming, Caulem."
"Three days," Reo cut in, voice booming, "official duel. I'll fuck you so bad they'll need a shovel to scrape you up."
"Fine, I'll stake my position in this duel," Garrik shoved a finger in his face. "But you'll be dead meat Leonhardt."
Reo's smirk didn't flinch. "Fine, let's see."
Garrik growled, "I'll make you remember fear you used to have."
"Try it," Reo hissed, "I'll bury you alive."
The room quaked, whispers buzzing like flies. Garrik's fists shook, but Reo just kicked the lackey aside—the boy crawled off, sobbing—and dropped into his chair, legs up, eyes shut, like Garrik was nothing.
The mana bell rang, the professor nearing. Garrik shot a final glare, then stormed out, crew limping behind. The air thrummed. Three days.