Chapter 45: Nathan’s Rivalry
Elisa’s patience was wearing thin. "I won’t repeat myself, Nathan. What are you doing here?"
Nathan’s smirk widened, his hand still on the door knob. "Curiosity killed the cat, Ravenscroft. Especially when it’s your curiosity. Maybe I’m just here for a midnight snack." He gestured vaguely toward the empty room. "Or maybe I’m here for sothing more... important."
His tone was laced with condescension, a playful yet venomous jab. Elisa’s eyes narrowed. This wasn’t a casual late-night encounter. Nathan was hiding sothing, and his attempt at a diversion only confird her suspicions.
"This is school restricted property, Nathan," she said, her voice dropping to a low, warning tone. "If you’re involved in sothing you shouldn’t be, I will report you."
Nathan laughed, a short, sharp sound that echoed in the quiet hallway. "You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A chance to finally get out of the way. But you’re wrong, Elisa. What I’m doing in here is none of your business. And if you dare to interfere, you’ll regret it."
His threat didn’t faze her. Elisa took a step forward, her hand moving to the unlock runic key in her pocket. "Threats won’t work on , Nathan. The only thing I’ll regret is letting you get away with this."
Nathan’s smirk faltered slightly. He clearly hadn’t expected her to challenge him directly. "What do you think you’re going to do to stop ?"
"The sa thing I ca here to do," she said, pulling a slim stack of papers from her bag. "My brother, the student council president, asked to drop these off for him." She held up the papers, Intended to show Nathan the reason for her presence on the student council grounds. This was it— a chance for her to prove to Damien— her brother, that she was reliable, capable, and worthy of his trust. "If you’re in there doing sothing that could jeopardize his position or his reputation, I won’t let you."
She watched as Nathan’s expression changed, his arrogance replaced by a hint of surprise. "He trusted you with his work?" His tone was laced with disbelief, a jab she felt deep in her chest.
"Yes," she said, her voice firm. "And I won’t let you undermine his authority. Now, step aside."
The ntion of her brother, the respected and admired Damien Ravenscroft, seed to hit a nerve. Nathan’s eyes, usually glinting with a mix of disdain and superiority, now showed his bitter, ugly resentnt for the Ravenscroft. He saw her, not as a student, but as an extension of the privilege he despised— the kind that put her at the top of the class without having to truly fight for it.
"Always about the family na, isn’t it, Ravenscroft?" he spat, his voice losing its playful tone and becoming genuinely hostile. "People may sing your praises, but we both know it’s not because of your talent. It’s because of who your brother is, because of the na you carry. You get everything handed to you on a silver platter."
Elisa remained impassive, her carefully constructed mask of indifference firmly in place. "That’s a rather baseless accusation, Nathan. My grades are earned through hard work, not through my brother’s influence." She knew her academic achievents were her own, but Nathan’s words still stung. They echoed the whispers she had heard since coming to this academy, the ones she had worked so hard to silence.
"Hard work?" Nathan scoffed, a dark laugh escaping him. "What do you know about hard work? You’ve never had to fight for anything in your life! I’m from a little village on the coast. I had to scrape and claw my way here, while you were born with a golden spoon in your mouth, given everything you could ever want."
He couldn’t hold back his anger any longer; it was a pure despise for the kingdom’s noble establishnt.
Nathan’s fists suddenly clenched and unclenched at his sides, his body tensing like a coiled spring. Elisa instinctively took a small step back, her mind analyzing the situation. He was consud by a personal rage. She had to de-escalate, or this would beco more than just a verbal spat.
"Our background has nothing to do with what you’re doing here," she said calmly, trying to redirect his focus. "This is a student council eting room, not a battlefield for your personal grievances. Now, step aside."
The words "battlefield" seed to trigger sothing in him. With a snarl of pure fury, Nathan launched himself at her. His first blow, a wild haymaker aid at her head, was surprisingly fast. But Elisa was faster. Years of combat training— a requirent of the Ravenscroft lineage, however much she had resented it— kicked in. She sidestepped the punch with a fluid motion, the air of his fist whistling past her ear.
Nathan stumbled from the montum, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and rage. He had expected her to cower, to scream, to be the frail noble he imagined her to be. Instead, she was a stone wall. He didn’t hesitate. He ca at her again, a flurry of quick, powerful jabs and hooks. Elisa’s movents were precise. She blocked a jab with her forearm, parried a hook with a flick of her wrist, and ducked under a third punch that would have easily sent her sprawling.
Each block was a quiet testant to her discipline. Each parry was a controlled and calculated response. She wasn’t fighting back; she was defending herself. Her goal was not to win this confrontation but to subdue it, to maintain the control she so desperately sought.
Nathan, however, was losing it. The more she defended, the angrier he beca. He saw her composure as another sign of her superior status, another thing he could never attain. He let out a frustrated grunt and changed his tactics, lunging forward and attempting to grab her. Elisa, using his montum against him, pivoted and sent him spinning. Nathan stumbled and fell, his hands scraping against the floor.
He pushed himself up, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild. He glared at her, the mask of a common student completely gone, replaced by a desperate, infuriated combatant. "You’re a fake, Ravenscroft! All this composure, all this perfection— it’s just a performance!"
Elisa, still holding the folder of her brother’s papers, stood tall and unmoving. Her face showed nothing. "If you believe my actions are a performance, Nathan, then you are a fool."
Nathan wiped a trickle of blood from his lip, the result of his clumsy fall. He looked at her, then down at his hands, then back to her. A strange calm seed to descend over him, his rage morphing into a cold, focused determination.
"This isn’t over," he said, his voice now a low. "You may be able to block my fists now, but in the light, where everyone can see, you won’t be so lucky." He stepped away from the door, his eyes fixed on hers. "Tomorrow is the combat test. We’ll settle this there, the world will finally see you for what you truly are."
He turned and strode down the hallway. Elisa stood alone, the papers in her hand now slightly crumpled. Nathan knew she was a formidable opponent, he had just seen it firsthand. This was a battle for respect, a war of status, and Nathan de Acosta had just challenged her to a duel. And she knew, with chilling certainty, that this was a test she could not afford to lose.
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