She tilted her head slightly, giving a blank stare, like she couldn’t tell if I was joking or serious.
I gestured to the window. "C’mon, I will buy you lunch after this."
She blinked once. Then twice.
And then, she scooted to the side without a word, making room for .
"Thanks," I said, dropping into the seat with the kind of relief only those who’d found their destined throne could understand.
Just then, I noticed sothing else.
Art... was sitting in the first bench of the row directly in front of .
Dead center.
I blinked.
’Wait... Art’s not a backbencher?’
What kind of twisted tiline was I living in where that guy sat up front voluntarily?
I narrowed my eyes at him. He turned around, caught my expression, and gave a lazy wink.
The betrayal. The absolute blasphemy.
Ignoring that abomination of an act, I leaned back and let my gaze wander outside.
The sunlight was warm. Clouds drifted lazily across the sky. The wind rustled the trees.
For a brief mont, I allowed myself to relax.
"How are you? I an... your injuries..."
Her voice was soft, almost hesitant—like she wasn’t sure if she even had the right to ask.
I turned slightly, her posture poised but her crimson eyes filled with sothing rare. Concern.
I flexed my right arm, rolling the shoulder casually, trying to make it look effortless. "I’m good. Just needed two days in the cryo chambers. Fixed right up."
She let out a tiny breath—almost a laugh—as a smile ghosted across her lips. Then, without another word, she returned to her upright posture, eyes facing forward again like nothing had happened.
I went back to gazing outside the window, watching the wind dance through the trees as the sun cast golden hues across the courtyard.
But then her voice reached again—quieter this ti. "I’m sorry... I didn’t go visit you."
I turned toward her again, locking eyes. "It’s okay. Honestly, I slept like a corpse the entire evening yesterday. Even if you had co, I wouldn’t have known. And in the morning you must have had your classes."
That seed to ease her a little. She nodded, lips pursed, then focused forward again.
But the conversation sparked sothing in .
Now that I thought about it...
Aside from Art, no one else had co to see .
Not Evelyn.
Not Lilith.
Not Celeste.
Not Freya.
Not Zyon...
They were all supposed to be my childhood friends—people who’d grown up beside , laughed with , fought beside .
And yet only one person had showed genuine concern.
Art.
The Crown Prince of the fucking Empire.
The guy who, by all logic, should be the one receiving comfort—not offering it.
But he did.
Despite everything, he’d co to check on .
Cracked jokes, tried too. Pretended like I wasn’t bruised and broken. Tried to cheer up like nothing had changed.
Before I even realized it, a small smile crept up on my lips.
Warm. Bitter. Grateful.
’He really was Cassius’s best friend...’
And then, like a cruel twist of fate, a mory surged forward—
An image. A voice. A face.
My best friend.
From Earth.
The one who’d always had my back when no one else did.
The idiot who challenged in gas, pulled all-nighters beside , and always said,
’If we die, we die together, bro.’
I wondered what he was doing now.
Did he cry when I died?
Did he even know?
He must’ve, right?
He had to have cried.
Even just a little.
Aside from Mia... he was my only family.
And now, I was here.
In another world.
Living soone else’s life.
Carrying soone else’s na.
And he—
He was in a world without .
A dull ache settled in my chest, the kind that no healing chamber could fix.
I leaned back in my seat, eyes half-lidded, letting the lancholy settle in for just a second longer—until the enormous double doors of the classroom creaked open.
The sound echoed like a ripple through the cathedral-esque hall.
Conversations stopped. Murmurs died.
Even the air seed to still.
And in walked our horoom teacher.
She strode in with a presence that filled the room, each step echoing against the marble floor like a trono ticking down to judgnt.
Her attire was elegant yet minimal—black robes trimd with silver, long and flowing, reminiscent of both a battle mage and a noble.
Her hair was a cool, platinum blonde, tied neatly behind her head. Sharp glasses rested on her nose, but they did nothing to dull the piercing chill of her aquamarine eyes.
She didn’t speak. Not right away.
She just scanned the room. Each and every student. A second per face.
And when her gaze landed on , it lingered—just a beat longer than the others.
Then she stepped forward, her heels clicking against the marble.
"Welco," she finally said, voice smooth and commanding. "To Class Platinum A. Where the weakest among you... will be lucky to leave alive."
The words hung like a blade suspended over our heads.
And then—
And as the dumb bitch I was... couldn’t help but laugh.
It wasn’t a polite chuckle, or a quiet scoff either. It was a real, sharp bark of amusent that broke the silence like a glass shattering in a chapel.
Dozens of heads turned.
Eyes widened.
Even Alia blinked in surprise beside .
The teacher’s gaze, which had moved away by then, snapped right back to .
Her expression didn’t change—still calm, collected—but there was a slight tilt to her head, almost like a cat sizing up a rat that had dared bare its teeth.
"Sothing funny, Mister Lancaster?" she asked, voice steady. Not threatening. Just curious.
I leaned forward, elbows on the table, resting my chin on my folded hands. "Only a little. I an... c’mon." I motioned vaguely at the cathedral-sized classroom. "You just ca here without any greeting... so hi or hello wouldn’t have hurt. And without introducing yourself. The first thing you said was our death sentence. Damn."
A few students snickered. One even outright laughed.
She didn’t smile. She didn’t frown.
She simply walked toward my seat, heels clicking steadily, each step asured, deliberate.
Alia stiffened beside .
When the teacher stopped right in front of my desk, her aquamarine eyes bore into mine like frost-coated daggers. The closer she stood, the more I could tell—she wasn’t just strong.
She was dangerous.
Then, her lips parted. "Good."
That threw off. "What?"
"I said good," she repeated. "You’ll need that arrogance. That laugh. That bite. Keep them close, Lancaster." She leaned down slightly, just enough that her next words were for and alone.
"Because if you lose them in this class, you’ll die."
I didn’t flinch. Just held her gaze. A spark danced in her cold eyes—and then, she straightened and turned to the rest of the class.
"My na is Professor Celia Arkwright," she announced. "I will be your horoom teacher, combat theory instructor, and, for the next three years, the only thing standing between you and the grave."
Every student sat straighter now. The air itself felt heavier.
"So of you may think you are talented. Gifted. Destined for greatness. I assure you—destiny is a lie sold to the weak. Only blood, sweat, and survival matters here."
She clapped once, and a glowing roster projected in midair behind her. Nas and ranks flickered like a floating screen.
"You are the top one hundred students of this year’s entrance. Half chosen from academics. Half from combat. So of you already know each other. So of you don’t. But let be very clear—this classroom? It’s not a sanctuary. It’s a battlefield with desks."
Her eyes narrowed as she continued. "Each month, you will be evaluated. And each year the bottom ten students will be removed from Class Platinum. No exceptions. Removed students can either drop to a lower class... or drop from the academy entirely."
A ripple of unease spread through the room.
"Now," she said, pulling a slender crystal from her robe. It floated up, spinning slowly in the air above her palm. "Let’s begin with your first official act as Class Platinum A students..."
She paused—dramatically, of course. Professors loved their flair.
"Combat pairs."
Imdiately, a chorus of whispers erupted.
"Silence," she snapped, and silence obeyed.
The crystal flared, scattering dozens of runes into the air. Nas began pairing up at random above us, forming glowing duos.
I glanced up.
And there it was.
Cassius Lancaster – Alia Everhart.
...Fuck.
I glanced at her.
She glanced at .
We both blinked.
I opened my mouth to say sothing snarky, but she beat to it.
"Please don’t laugh this ti," she said with a flat voice, but her eyes were smiling.
And I—well—I smirked.
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