The healer stood over Leo, her hands glowing faintly with soft blue light as she waved them above his bare chest, her magic probing for wounds. Her eyes widened, jaw dropping as the glow flickered and faded—nothing. No cuts, no bruises, not even a hint of the damage she'd seen yesterday.
"Impossible," she whispered, stepping back, her hands trembling as the magic dimmed. "I thought you'd need three days to heal—at least." Her mind raced, grasping for an answer that wasn't there.
Leo smirked, swinging his legs off the bed and sitting up, casual as ever. "Guess your magic's top-notch," he said, voice light but with a teasing edge. She gaped, words stuck, her mouth flapping uselessly. He tilted his head, crimson eyes flashing. "So, can I go?"
She jolted, blinking hard. "Y-Yes… you're free to leave," she stammered, shaking her head like she could shake off the shock.
Just then, the door opened, and a young man stepped in—Principal Veymoor's clerk, all business. Lean, with messy brown hair and a sharp uniform, he clutched a stack of papers tight under his arm. His eyes swept the room, locking onto Leo, and he marched over,.
"Leonhardt Caulem," he said, voice short and firm. "The principal wants you when you're recovered."
Leo arched a brow, sliding off the bed with a fluid stretch, muscles flexing as he rolled his shoulders. "Oh yeah?" he said, a sly grin tugging his lips. "Let's head out then." He stood tall, shirt hanging half-open, radiating raw strength.
Before moving, he glanced at Liana, who lingered near the door, watching quietly. "Go back to the dorm," he told her, voice steady but warm. "I'll catch up later."
Liana nodded, a small smile flickering. "Be safe, Young Master," she said, slipping out as Leo turned back to the clerk.
The young man's stride hitched, confusion wiping away his confidence. "W-Wait, hold on," he sputtered, eyes raking over Leo—expecting a guy half-dead, stuck in bed for days, not this powerhouse standing ready. "I thought… you'd be down for a while."
Leo chuckled, brushing past him toward the door. "Things change. Come on, we keep Principal Veymoor waiting."
Leo slumped on the smooth leather couch in Principal Veymoor's office, legs crossed, arms loose, looking like he owned the place. Across from him, Veymoor sat stiff, his face showing shock he couldn't hide. Gidon stood next to him, arms folded, jaw tight.
Both stared, amazed—Gidon had seen Leo take a beating that should've left him wrecked, but now he sat there, cool and fine, like nothing ever happened.
Leo spoke first, voice easy but sharp. "So, why am I here? On my day off?"
Veymoor cleared his throat, fixing his glasses with, trying to sound in charge. "Leonhardt Caulem," he said, getting steady, "you know the rules to promote sections, right?"
Leo grinned, leaning back. "Yeah. Get recognised by anrenowned professor and get recommendation, or do something awesome—show you're better."
Veymoor nodded, glancing at Gidon, then back. "Right. Professor Gidon recommends you to jump from Bronze to Silver." He paused, then added, "And he wants you as his apprentice."
Leo didn't flinch. "No thanks," he said, hard and quick, like slamming a door. "Not interested in either." Veymoor's mouth opened a bit, and Gidon's eyes got big, surprise hitting them hard.
Gidon stepped closer, voice rough and loud. "You know what you're giving up, Leonhardt Caulem? Being my apprentice means special treatment, learning from me—one of the strongest guys in this country—stuff only I can teach. Are you sure about this?"
Leo looked right at him, red eyes calm and cool. "I get it. Fame, lessons from a tough guy, secret tricks—I know what's up." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, grin getting sharp. "Still no."
Gidon's hands balled up, voice rising. "Then why? Tell me why!"
Leo's smile turned sly, his voice low and strong. "There's a rule to move up, yeah. But has anyone ever done it? Name one." He tilted his head, waiting, daring them.
Old man shifted, tapping the couch, voice tight. "There's a reason, Leonhardt."
"I already know," Leo cut in, quick and sure. "This academy's made that way—on purpose."
Veymoor leaned forward, eyes hard, words slow. "You're right. It's not just a school—it's a place to build leaders, nobles who'll fight to win. It's like nature: the strong eat the weak. In noblepolitics, the soft don't last. We don't help the weak here—we make the strong sharper. Power goes to the best."
Leo sank deeper into the couch, his grin stretching wide, a fierce glint flashing in his red eyes. "I like that rule—strong beating weak. I was the weak one getting crushed 'til a few weeks back." His words landed heavy, raw and true, then he leaned up a bit. "Silver Class sounds nice, Principal sir, but you know what'll go down if I take it, right?"
Veymoor nodded, slow and tense. Leonhardt had started dominating, flipping the game in Bronze. If he switched sections now, it'd spark something big with the other leaders, a clash waiting to explode. Trouble wouldn't just brew; it'd ignite.
Leo stood up, stretching slow and strong, his shirt tight over his muscled body. "That's why I'm skipping the promotion. Bronze fits me fine for now."
Gidon's eyes got sharp, his voice slicing in. "Then why turn down my deal?"
Leo turned, meeting his stare with a calm, respectful grin. "I really respect you, Professor Gidon—I mean it. But I'm not sure yet. Need time."
Gidon let out a gruff sigh, rubbing his jaw. "Alright, Caulem. Fair enough. But that apprentice spot? It's yours when you want it—only you." His voice got softer, a rare warm edge slipping out.
Leo's smile popped, real and easy. "Thanks professor," he said, tipping his head. He spun to the door, boots tapping the floor, and slipped out, the door shutting with a sharp click.
Veymoor looked at Gidon, one eyebrow up. "Disappointed, huh?"
Gidon laughed low, grinning big. "Disappointed? Nah—I'm proud I picked him. Kid's tough as nails. He'll come around, just watch."
Out in the hall, Leo walked steady, hands in his pockets, steps smooth like he owned the place. Then someone stepped from the shadows, stopping him dead. A woman—silver hair flowing like moonlight, purple eyes bright and sharp, a gold brooch gleaming on her chest.
"Well, hello, Leonhardt," she said, her voice smooth and smoky, wrapping around him like a dare.