Hours later, morning came.
Lancet slipped out of the Bronze Dormitory before the dawn had even fully broken, the sky outside still a pretty, dark purple.
Friday was the one day of the academic week dedicated entirely to independent physical and magical cultivation. Students were expected to spend the day training and there was only one class after it all which was Combat.
Lancet had woken early because he knew with students not being in homerooms learning, that meant he could easily run into waiting bullies.
So, he kept to the shadows of the gothic archways as he moved across the sprawling campus. One couldn't blame him for being dramatically cautious; he was being hunted.
After the Higher Dungeon, he knew Kallan and his goons—or worse, the Terrible Three—would be looking for any excuse to catch him isolated in the corridors.
