Somya was one of a select few. She was widely recognized as one of the most powerful magicians in the entire United Academy.
Her presence alone commanded a level of respect that even Cian and Simon for all their physical prowess and noble standing could not match.
She walked over to Cian her expression calm and analytical. "Our hands are tied Cian," she stated simply. Her voice was soft but firm. It cut through the tense atmosphere of the training ground.
Cian and Simon both turned to look at her.
Their expressions were a mixture of frustration and a grudging acceptance of her words.
"We have to do sothing," Simon insisted his voice a low growl. "If we don’t act now what happens next... it will not be good for us or for our group’s reputation."
Cian and Somya exchanged a long aningful look. It was clear to anyone watching that they were communicating silently. A plan was already beginning to form between them. They understood each other without words.
Finally Somya spoke a faint cold smile touching her lips. "I have an idea," she said. "Why don’t we... use them?" As she spoke she gestured dismissively towards the eleven kneeling battered students on the ground.
The eleven commoner students seeing Somya’s gesture and hearing her chilling words flinched. The one whom Cian had kicked just monts before struggled to his feet once again. His face was a mask of desperation and fear.
"Please My Lady Somya," he begged his voice cracking "don’t involve us in this! We just ca here to the Academy to study! Because of you people because of the way you treat us we have already had to face so many hardships! Do you even realize what you put us through every day?"
His desperate plea was t with imdiate brutal violence.
Cian was on him in an instant. He grabbed the student by the throat his grip like iron.
He slamd his head down onto the hard-packed earth of the training ground. "Did I give you permission to speak?" Cian snarled his voice a low nacing whisper.
Simon ignoring the plight of the commoner student turned his attention back to Somya. "What’s the plan?" he asked his interest piqued.
Somya’s cold smile widened slightly.
"The Principal has forbidden us from attacking them directly," she explained referring to Eric and his new group The New Warriors. "And if we do attack them ourselves we will surely be punished by the Academy. The Principal’s warning was very clear."
Simon nodded in agreent. He knew this much was true. The Principal’s warning had been clear and unambiguous.
Somya then pointed again at the eleven kneeling students on the ground.
"But," she continued her voice laced with a chilling pragmatism
"we can use our... disposable assets. We can use these commoners. By doing so we can accomplish two things at once. First before the Principal or the Academy staff can take any official action against our group for our treatnt of them we will take action ourselves. We will expel these worthless mbers from our group. And at the sa ti," she added a predatory glint in her eyes
"we can use them to counter this erging threat this Eric. We can make them fight him."
Simon fell silent a thoughtful calculating expression on his face. He considered the implications of Somya’s ruthless plan. It was cruel but it was also very effective. It solved several of their problems at once.
Just then another figure arrived. It was Samba the representative of the Red Team from the first-year welcoming ceremony. He had co to report to his seniors. He walked up to the platform and bowed his head respectfully.
"My Lord Cian...My Lord Simon...My Lady Somya," he began
"I have seen the power of that boy Eric firsthand. If both the Emperor and the Principal have praised him so highly... I think you should seriously consider his strength. He is not just an ordinary first-year."
Hearing Samba’s firsthand account of what happened at the welcoming ceremony both Somya and Simon fell into a deep contemplative silence.
Their minds were racing as they weighed this new information. This Eric was even more dangerous than they thought.
The scene shifted.
It was now 1:00 AM. But Eric was not in his bed. He was back in the indoor training ground on the sa platform he had used earlier that day. He was pushing himself relentlessly rcilessly.
Imdiately after eating his dinner he had returned to the training ground. He had once again selected the "hardest" difficulty level.
And for hours he had been fighting against the three life-like clones of the Imperial soldiers.
It couldn’t really be called a "fight." It was more of a systematic brutal beating.
The three clones were attacking him relentlessly. Their movents were coordinated and perfect. Their strikes were powerful and precise. Eric was being thoroughly thrashed.
But each ti he was cut each ti a blow landed the specialized magic of the training platform would wash over him. The searing pain was real but it was fleeting.
His wounds knitted themselves back together almost instantly. He would be knocked down only to force himself back to his feet again and again.
His body was screaming in protest. His muscles were burning with an exhaustion that went beyond re physical tiredness.
By 2:00 AM Eric finally collapsed. He lay on the cold stone floor of the training platform. His chest was heaving he was gasping for air.
His body was a symphony of aches and pains that even the platform’s powerful healing magic couldn’t completely erase.
He had finally managed to land a decisive blow. His sword was embedded deep in the chest of the last remaining training dummy. But the effort had completely drained him of all his energy.
He had nothing left.
As he lay there gasping for breath the familiar transparent interface of the [System Window] appeared before him.
"[Host Eric it is 2:00 AM in the morning]" it stated its tone as neutral and informative as ever.
"[You should rest now. Your body has reached its absolute limit. Any further training tonight will be counterproductive. It will only hinder your progress not help it.]"
Hearing the [System Window]’s logical if emotionless advice Eric let out a long shuddering breath.
He knew it was right. He had given it his all for today. With a final monuntal effort he pushed himself up. His limbs were trembling with exhaustion.
"Training... over," he gasped his voice a hoarse whisper.
The mont the words were spoken the three deactivated Imperial soldier dummies vanished.
They dematerialized into nothingness. The transparent energy barrier that had surrounded the platform also flickered and disappeared. Eric alone in the vast silent training hall turned.
He began the long weary walk back to his dormitory.
He was ready to collapse into his bed and let his exhausted body finally truly rest. He had trained hard. And he would do it again tomorrow.
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