CHAPTER 16: COMPETITION - IT HAS BEGUN

In the classroom, as everyone now clad themselves in uniforms, white long-sleeve shirts beneath good-looking dark blue jackets, long ties, and black pants, with skirts for the females, the tension in the air was as thick as a rolling storm cloud.

"Move!" Dale roared from behind, and a great number of students scampered to their seats like rats scattering at the sudden switch of a light. He strode into the classroom and sat heavily on the front desk, arms crossed, jaw clenched, his presence alone commanding silence.

Orwen, one of his lackeys, leaned against the wall near the window, feigning ease but his eyes constantly flicking toward his leader. Cecil, on the other hand, sat calmly in her chair, but her sharp gaze betrayed the quiet anticipation bubbling within.

Just then, Godfrey entered the class, gulping down water from a bottle as Isolde walked at his side. The moment Dale laid eyes on him, a spark of fury surged, literal lightning burst from his fingers, striking the bottle. The electricity coursed into the water, turning it into a conduit and sending sharp currents through Godfrey’s body.

The shock made him grunt, muscles tightening, pain coursing through every nerve. Had he been a normal human, he would have collapsed into unconsciousness, ending up being sent to the school nurse.

Crackling arcs of lightning danced along Dale’s fists as he rose from the desk, his thick neck popping as he tilted it left and right. "I was insulted because of y—!"

But the words choked in his throat. A sudden presence fell upon him, oppressive and suffocating, like an invisible weight pressing down on every inch of his body. He could barely breathe, let alone move.

It was the aura of a Lord Tier. His trembling eyes shifted, and he saw Isolde, her calm expression distorted into something sharp and furious.

Godfrey, meanwhile, tossed the empty bottle neatly into the bin and walked straight to his seat without uttering a word. Isolde’s gaze lingered on Dale for only a moment longer before she turned her eyes away. Only then did he feel the crushing weight lift from his body.

"You hide behind a woman," Dale spat through clenched teeth, trembling in rage, his eyes burning holes into Godfrey who sat tapping a finger against his desk in infuriating calm.

’His mouth should have been damaged, his body twitching from the lightning, but he sits there without even a flicker of pain in his eyes? Has he grown that much in just one month?!’ Cecil frowned deeply, her calculating gaze sharpening.

Isolde exhaled with a sigh. "Dale..." Her sweet voice rang through the class, beautiful even when edged with anger. But her eyes were merciless. "...Sit down."

Dale’s eyes widened. He clenched his fists so tight the veins in his arms bulged, but despite his pride, his legs carried him back to his seat like a chained dog. He hated it, but he knew it, Isolde was stronger. That was the unfair truth.

"The competition is near. Let’s see how you’ll protect him then," Snow muttered lazily, leaning back with an air of disinterest. But Isolde ignored him entirely.

Instead, she brought out her EarPods, rose from her chair, and gently slid one into Godfrey’s ear.

She could see the storm raging in his eyes, barely restrained fury, tempered only by sheer willpower. "The competition is just a few days away. Let the leash around your anger loose on that day." Her whisper was soft.

Godfrey glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

***

In the department where the staff lounged and sipped their drinks, conversation about the upcoming competition ran lively.

"The sophomores this year," the school nurse said with enthusiasm, "have talents we haven’t seen in a long while."

"That’s true," someone nodded. "Edwin, you’re in charge of that class. Who do you think will win this month?"

All eyes turned toward Edwin, who merely shrugged. "Isolde, Snow, and Dale. Those three are definitely above the others. Isolde will undoubtedly come first, Snow second, and Dale third. Cecil is strong, but she can’t really match Dale."

"There might be a dark horse in that class," the combat instructor said, leaning back with a knowing look. "Like you said, the sophomores are full of talent. Nothing is set in stone until the day itself."

Edwin raised a brow, puzzled. "And who’s this dark horse?"

The instructor only took a sip of his coffee. "You’ll see."

***

A few days later, the day of the competition arrived. A grand white arena stood proudly at the center of the campus, large enough to hold the roar of a few hundred. The stands were filled with students – freshmen, sophomores, and even upperclassmen who had come to watch the rising talents.

The freshmen competition was still months away, many of them still adjusting to their summons, but the sophomore matches always carried weight. Rivalries, pride, and the eyes of the academy hung heavy on the arena.

The referee, standing tall before the vast platform, hollered with a thunderous voice. "First contenders, Godfrey Daniels and Maldred Brown!"

Godfrey stepped out, eyes narrowing as the sun bore down on him and hundreds of gazes fell upon his back. The pressure should have been immense, but his thoughts circled only around one fact: he was chosen first, and his opponent was none other than one of Snow’s lackeys.

It was clear, they wanted to weed out the weak early. And who else to put on the chopping block but the boy who awakened late, the one whispered to be the weakest sophomore? The one who awakened with freshmen.

Among the freshmen, there wasn’t a shred of respect in their eyes. Some sighed, already disappointed. Others leaned forward, eager to see him humiliated.

After all, Godfrey had been foolish enough to clash with the top boys of the class. To them, he was a moth flying into fire.

But the truth was simple, the top boys had demanded respect, and Godfrey had refused to bow. For that alone, he became their enemy.

Maldred ascended the platform from the south while Godfrey approached from the north. They stood thirty meters apart, and yet the platform still had space for giants to battle.

"We finally meet, and your shield is way over there," Maldred sneered, pointing at Isolde seated in the audience. She was easy to spot, for no one dared sit within five seats of her in any direction. Her isolation was a throne of its own.

"I remember the punch you gave me when I first came here," Godfrey said, sliding his hands from his pockets. "And I remember the spikes. But today, I’ll show you mercy."

"You’ll show me mercy? Me?!" Maldred’s cocky grin twisted into fury as a portal bloomed beside him. From it stepped a five-foot-tall beast. Its three pairs of steel-tipped tusks gleamed under the sun, its mane of quills bristling like spears, its burning red eyes, wild and savage.

The referee’s voice boomed. "Iron-Tusked Porcupine Boar – Elite Tier, 4.2!"

"Bring out your knight," Maldred taunted.

Behind Godfrey, a golden diagram of intricate symbols appeared, glowing so bright it seemed to rival the sun. From it came the sound of heavy metallic clinks, like chains falling onto stone. The arena became silent as an armored figure stepped forth.

Maldred’s pupils shrank, his grin faltering, as the shadow of Mountain loomed across the arena floor.

’Was that... always how it looked?’