CHAPTER 186: THE NEW CONCERN

{Elira}

~**^**~

Saturday mornings at ESA were usually noisy.

Not the kind that grated on your nerves, but the kind that reminded you that the whole school was alive—music leaking from open dorm windows, laughter echoing down the hall, the faint hum of chatter about Founder’s Day preparations.

By the time I left the dorm with the girls, the air was already bright with the scent of grass and paint.

Nari carried a stack of folded fabrics for the decoration team, humming a tune that was too cheerful for how early it was.

Cambria had her sketchbook tucked under her arm, and Juniper, as usual, looked like she was already done with everyone before the day even began.

We didn’t need to talk about what I would be doing today. Everyone knew. The combat team didn’t participate in the weekend prep projects because the elimination rounds were still ongoing.

"Come with us anyway," Nari said, glancing at me as we walked. "You can sit and laugh while we work. It will be fun."

"I will come," I said softly. "But only to watch."

"Good," she said, smiling. "I hate painting in silence."

We cut across the courtyard, the cobblestones warm underfoot. Students darted everywhere, carrying boxes, brushes, and banners. The energy was good—light, contagious. For a while, I let myself feel it.

Then we reached the cafeteria.

It was subtle at first—the quick lift of a few heads, a shift in the air—but I felt it immediately. The way conversations trailed off just a second too late. The way eyes lingered a heartbeat too long.

We found a table near the far window, and I tried to ignore the prickle of attention on my back.

The others started chatting, arguing over whose dorm banner would look best, and for a moment, it almost felt normal again.

Until a voice carried from a nearby table—too clear, too deliberate not to hear.

"She’s the one who won yesterday, right? Knocked the guy out cold?"

"Yeah. Heard she used that pressure-point trick. Totally unfair."

"Figures. Omegas always cheat when they can’t win properly."

Instantly, my stomach tightened. I kept my eyes down, pretending to stir the tea in front of me.

Juniper’s voice cut through the air, sharp as a blade. "You have something to say, say it louder."

The girls at the other table went quiet instantly. One of them flushed, muttering something under her breath before looking away.

Nari huffed. "Unbelievable. Half of them can’t even throw a punch, and they are out here talking like experts."

Cambria laid a calming hand on Nari’s wrist. "Let it go. They are not worth it."

Tamryn looked at me. "You know it’s all nonsense, right?"

"I know," I said, though my voice came out thinner than I meant it to. "It doesn’t matter."

But it did matter. The words clung to me like glue.

I picked at my food, appetite gone, listening to the muted hum of the room. Laughter rose and fell, spoons clinked against plates, and underneath it all, the whispers spread—quiet, steady, and poisonous.

By the time we left the cafeteria, the morning light had turned harsh, too bright for my eyes.

Nari slipped her arm through mine. "Don’t think about it, okay? Next week, when you win again, they will choke on their words."

I smiled faintly. "You are very optimistic."

"I have to be. You are my friend, and your glory reflects on me," she teased.

That earned a soft laugh from me, but it didn’t reach my chest. The laughter around us sounded distant, hollow.

I could feel the unease creeping deeper, threading through my thoughts like a quiet warning.

Something had shifted, and I didn’t know why.

---

By the time we stepped outside again, the courtyard had transformed.

Bright ribbons hung between the lamp posts, fluttering in the breeze. Students were everywhere, balancing ladders, splashing paint, laughing, and chasing each other with fabric streamers.

Someone had even brought a speaker, and cheerful music floated through the air, mixing with the scent of cut grass and sweet pastries from the bake team’s table.

Nari ran off first, waving the folded fabrics above her head. "Decoration squad, make way for your queen!"

Juniper rolled her eyes but followed after her, clipboard in hand. "She’s going to trip on her own ego one of these days."

Cambria found her group near the stage platform, sketching banners on a wide sheet of paper. Tamryn had joined a set of girls testing the sound equipment, her laugh carrying even above the chatter.

I found an empty bench under one of the willow trees and sat, resting my chin on my knees.

For the first time in a while, I wasn’t the one people were watching. Everyone here was too busy. Too alive. It felt good.

Watching them all, I almost forgot about the ache in my knuckles, a soft reminder of the fights.

Every now and then, the wind brushed past, cool against my arms, and I wondered if the Founder’s Day air would feel this peaceful when the time came for the finals.

Nari spotted me from across the yard and waved so enthusiastically that a bit of ribbon got tangled in her hair. I couldn’t help laughing. She grinned in return, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like "Smile more!"

I didn’t realize how much I had missed this—not the decorations or the noise, but the quiet belonging that came with just being around my friends.

For a while, I watched Juniper bossing her team around with that signature precision, Tamryn sneaking snacks from a basket, and Cambria wiping a streak of paint off her cheek while giggling.

They appeared... normal, as if nothing in the world had shifted. And maybe that’s why the moment stung a little, because I knew mine had.

Since the unsealing, everything felt louder. The air, the sounds, even people’s energy pulsed stronger around me. Sometimes, it was beautiful. Sometimes, it was overwhelming.

I leaned back on the bench, letting my head tilt up toward the patches of blue sky between the tree branches.

Just one more week to Founder’s Day. Just two more rounds to survive.

If I could just hold everything together till then—

"Elira!"

Tamryn’s voice pulled me back. She jogged over, her cheeks flushed, a small daisy crown in her hands. "The art team made extras. Want one?"

I smiled and nodded. "Sure."

She placed it on my head dramatically. "There. Our very own combat princess."

The others burst out laughing when they saw it. I laughed too, though it came out softer than theirs.

If only they knew how heavy the crown actually felt.

---

By late afternoon, the courtyard had thinned out. The sun hung low, mellow and gold, brushing the tops of the trees with light.

My friends were still packing up ribbons and paint buckets when the familiar chime sounded from my smartwatch—a message from the training group.

[Mandatory combat review for all current qualifiers. Report to the small training hall by 5:00 PM.]

I exhaled slowly. Of course, there were no breaks for the ’Omega miracle.’

Tamryn noticed my expression and nudged me gently. "Go, combat princess. We will save you a seat in the cafeteria for dinner."

"Don’t call me that," I groaned, though her grin managed to pull one out of me too.

By the time I reached the small training hall, the air had changed. The laughter of earlier felt like a memory now.

Inside, the air smelt faintly of sweat and antiseptic, freshly cleaned, but still thick with tension.

A handful of students were already there, the ones who had survived their rounds. I recognized a few faces, whispering in a corner, and a couple of third-years stretching silently.

And standing near the centre of the hall was the professor assigned for today’s briefing, Professor Pierce. He was tall, with brown hair, his tone always calm, always precise.

None of the brothers was here today. For a second, I let myself breathe easier.

Professor Pierce looked up when I stepped in, his sharp grey eyes scanning me briefly before he gestured to the others to gather around.

"Congratulations on making it this far," he began, his voice even but with an edge that made my stomach tighten. "However, there’s been a recent concern regarding the integrity of some of the combat performances."

My pulse skipped. And then, a low murmur spread among the gathered students.

"Specifically," he continued, "the use of acu-point strikes, a method designed to disable opponents by hitting vital nerve channels."

The words struck through me like lightning. Acu-points—that was my final move against Kallista.

Professor Pierce clasped his hands behind his back, pacing slowly. "While this technique is not technically illegal, it is considered a shortcut. The administration is currently discussing whether to prohibit its use in the remaining rounds and the Founder’s Day exhibition match."

My heart sank immediately. I could almost hear Rennon’s voice from days ago: "...only as a last resort, Elira."

And I had used it. Twice now.

The professor’s gaze swept across the group again, briefly resting on me before moving on. It wasn’t accusatory but rather clinical — yet my stomach twisted all the same.

A student from the other side of the circle spoke up. "Sir, if someone has already used that method to win, will their round be cancelled?"