"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"
"AHHHH NOOOOO!!!"
The screams pierced the silence, echoing off the cold walls. A loud crash followed, and one of the boxes slamd into the side of the room, splintering apart with a sharp crack.
"....noooo."
Her voice broke down to a sob, softer now, hoarse from the force of her yelling.
Nia slid down the wall, her back dragging against the cold surface until she hit the ground. Her hands trembled as she gripped her knees, pulling them close.
Her breaths were uneven, short, sharp gasps between clenched teeth.
She tried to hold it in and tried to stay composed.
She balled her fists as sothing slipped from her hand. A D-rank core rolled across the floor and ca to a stop near the broken box.
Nia didn’t look at it.
Her head dropped, and the tears ca harder now. Her arms wrapped tight around her legs as she shook, unable to hold it in anymore.
Her chest ached, like sothing had been clawing at her for too long and finally broke through. The pressure, the fear, the helplessness, everything poured out at once.
Her brown skin was flushed, her gold eyes swollen and red, barely visible through the tears streaming down her face. She kept wiping them away, only for more to fall.
And that made it worse.
She pressed her forehead to her knees, letting the sobs co. Her voice was muffled now, but the pain in it was still sharp. Every breath she took sounded like it hurt.
It was the kind of pain that didn’t go away with sleep.
It stayed.
Her phone rang, cutting through the silence.
She didn’t move at first. Just sat there, arms still wrapped around her legs. The sound kept going, vibrating faintly on the ground near the broken core.
Eventually, she turned her head. Her eyes, red and tired, landed on the screen.
Rhian.
She stared at the na. Her throat tightened. The tears ca again, harder than before.
She reached for it, then stopped halfway. Her hand hovered over the screen. Her fingers trembled.
Maybe they couldn’t be friends anymore.
Not after this.
What if he found out?
What if he looked at her differently?
What if he walked away?
The phone kept ringing. She didn’t answer.
She just let it ring and cried harder.
Rhian stared at the screen as the call ended on its own.
No answer.
He frowned slightly. Nia usually picked up, or at least ssaged if she couldn’t talk. But now... nothing.
She had seed fine after the ceremony. Tired, maybe a little distant, but not upset. Not like before.
He ran a hand through his hair and slipped the phone back into his pocket. There was still a lot to do.
Still, sothing about the silence bothered him.
He exhaled and shook his head. "I’ll check on her later."
For now, he turned and headed down the hall.
Rhian stepped out into the academy grounds, the dorm doors shutting behind him.
The sun was high, casting clear light over the cobbled paths and lined hedges. It was a nice day, breezy, warm enough to keep the chill off, but not so hot as to be unbearable.
The main walkways were full of students. Most were chatting in pairs or groups, so moving between lecture halls, training fields, or the cafeteria buildings.
Others loitered around the walls, leaning against pillars or fences as they scrolled through their phones or waited on friends.
But Rhian felt the shift as soon as he entered the crowd.
Eyes. A lot of them.
Not the second-year or third-year students. They had their own problems and usually ignored him.
But the first-years, the ones who watched the tournant, who saw how his match ended, were much harder to ignore.
Whispers followed him from the side as he passed. So were quiet. Others weren’t even trying.
"That’s him."
"He lost, didn’t he?"
"Still got second place."
"Second, but to that guy?"
Rhian didn’t stop walking, didn’t react. He kept his pace steady, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.
He knew what they were thinking.
He’d been in their place before, whispers and half-ford opinions about upperclassn, waiting for one stumble to decide soone wasn’t as strong as they looked.
He didn’t care, not really. But the attention still felt uncomfortable.
So of the kids stepped aside to give him space. Others didn’t move at all, forcing him to shift his path around them.
A few offered nods, quick and unsure, as if they weren’t sure whether to treat him like a contender or a loser.
Rhian didn’t bla them. Hell, he didn’t even know how he felt about that match himself.
His goal today was simple.
The blacksmith’s shop was on the far edge of the rchant section of the academy, a long stretch of buildings owned by outside craftsn who worked under the academy’s funding.
The dwarf, Borik, had given Rhian a basic weapon before the tournant. But that gift had co with a condition, two weeks of free help cleaning the smithy, of course his main weapon was still in the makinb.
Rhian didn’t mind the deal. The weapon had held up better than expected.
But walking there now, in the middle of the attention and noise, he kind of wished Borik had picked a later hour.
He adjusted the strap on his shoulder bag and kept going.
He passed a row of drink stalls and heard music from a nearby speaker, mixed with shouts and laughter from a few students lounging outside a sweets shop.
He exhaled as he reached the corner that marked the start of the smith district.
Rhian finally reached the stone-brick forge at the edge of the marketplace.
The blacksmith’s shop looked the sa as always, soot-stained walls, thick smoke curling from the chimney, and the faint tallic scent of heated steel hanging in the air.
But even before he stepped through the archway, he could hear the yelling.
Borik’s voice thundered from the side alley, thick with his usual temper. "You call that a blade, you rust-lovin’ goat? My scrap pile’s sharper than the junk you hang on your wall!"
From just across the way, a thinner, sharper voice fired back. "Better junk than the bent tin you hamr out, Borik! You couldn’t forge a fork without cracking it down the middle!"
Rhian peered around the edge of the shop.
Reviews
All reviews (0)