Elijah Crowe lay on his back in the courtyard with one arm tucked beneath his head and the other lazily draped across his chest.
His academy uniform was immaculate and pristinely kempt—a black coat, silver-trimmed edges, and the crest of the Arcane Academy stitched neatly over his left breast.
Clad in the immaculate outfit, he resembled every other academy student.
Letting out a sigh, he leaned back further on the stone bench, closing his eyes.
"This...feels pretty good..." he inwardly admitted.
A gentle breeze blew rustling his robes slightly.
Somewhere in the distance, laughter echoed loudly.
It was sharp, mocking and a tad bit exaggerated.
The sound was too noisy.
He shifted slightly, eyes still fixed on the empty sky. Classes hadn't started yet.
The Selection Ceremony was tomorrow, the moment everyone had been waiting for. The moment their worth would be decided.
Everything hinged on it.
Elemental affinity, combat potential, and future rank.
"No pressure, right?"
Shaking his head slightly, he shifted his hand shielding his eyes from the sunlight.
Shifting slightly, his eyes flicked sideways, just enough to catch movement across the courtyard.
A group of students had formed a loose circle near one of the stone archways. Five of them to be precise.
All of them wore uniforms, but there was a slight difference between them.
The clothes they wore were somewhat more elegant, luxurious... sharper.
Besides that, the confidence with which they carried themselves spiked volumes for who they were.
"Ignore it..."
At the center of the circle, someone was on the ground.
Elijah didn't need to hear the words to understand the scene.
He'd seen it before.
Too many times.
"Get up." A smooth voice said. The youth sounded amused, like he was seeing the most interesting thing.
Another thud resounded across the courtyard.
Elijah slowly rose from his seat staring at them for a few moments. He brushed nonexistent dust from his coat, his movements slow and unhurried, almost lazy.
The boy on the ground tried to rise, only to be shoved back down.
Dust clung to his sleeves. His hair was disheveled, his breathing uneven.
Elijah watched for a few seconds.
Then he looked back at the sky.
"Not my problem..."
He promptly turned on his heel making for the opposite direction.
"There's no need to get involved. I hardly know the guy..."
He rolled his eyes.
" Definitely not worth the trouble."
Another laugh cut through the air.
"Pathetic," the same voice from before said.
"You actually thought you could stand among us at the Selection?"
Elijah stopped briefly, closing his eyes. He took in a short breath, releasing it slowly.
"Walk away, Elijah," he thought.
He turned, hands slipping into his pockets, and began walking in the opposite direction.
The laughter faded slightly behind him.
Step. Step. Step.
Each footfall is steady. Controlled.
"This is better. There's no need to start trouble before the Selection even starts. Yep. No need..."
He'd made the right choice. He always did.
A few more steps.
Then—
A sharp crack echoed behind him.
Followed by a choked gasp.
Elijah stopped, his entire body going rigid.
His shoulders stiffened, just slightly.
"Keep walking...Elijah..."
He ground his teeth, feeling his heart thudding in his chest
For a moment, he stood there, staring ahead at nothing.
Then he sighed.
It wasn't loud. Barely more than a breath.
"…What am I doing?"
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
He turned.
The group hadn't noticed him yet. They were too focused on their target.
Five against one.
"Cowards..."
The boy on the ground barely moved now.
Elijah ran a hand through his hair, irritation flickering across his face.
Stupid.
This was stupid.
There was no benefit. No reward. No logical reason to get involved.
And yet...
His feet were already moving.
Back toward them.
"Hey."
His voice wasn't loud.
But the group paused.
Five heads turned in near unison.
Then for a moment, there was silence.
Then the one in front, a tall youth, with neatly combed dark hair—smiled faintly.
"Ah," he said. "And who might you be?"
Elijah stopped a few steps away, his hands still in his pockets.
Up close, the difference between them was much clearer. Their uniforms bore subtle markings; family insignias, enchanted threads, and literal wealth woven into fabric.
They had just had to be nobles.
Of course.
Elijah's gaze flicked briefly to the boy on the ground.
He was still conscious. Just barely.
"Good..."
He looked back at the speaker.
"Does it matter?" Elijah said.
The boy tilted his head slightly, amused.
"Not particularly," he replied. "But curiosity is a habit of mine. A rather bad one at times."
There was a brief pause.
Then, almost casually, he spoke.
"Simon Voss."
And there it was.
Elijah bit back a curse, his eyes twitching slightly.
"Shit."
The name landed with weight.
House Voss.
Financiers of the kingdom. Wealth that stretched across borders and influence that reached into the highest levels of power.
Elijah blinked once. Then twice.
"…Right."
Simon's smile widened, just a fraction.
"And you are?"
"Elijah."
A few of the others exchanged glances.
Simon studied him for a second longer, then shrugged.
"Well, Elijah," he said lightly, "unless you have business here, I suggest you..."
Elijah suddenly stepped forward.
And bumped into him.
It wasn't hard.
It was really a collision.
But it was enough.
For a split second, everything went still.
Simon's expression didn't change immediately.
But the atmosphere did.
The tension in the air rose instantly and palpably at that.
Behind him, one of the others scoffed.
"Watch where you're going..."
Elijah raised a hand slightly.
"Sorry," he said.
His eyes weren't on Simon anymore.
They flicked...just once—toward the boy on the ground.
"Move!"
It wasn't spoken.
But then again, he didn't need to.
He'd created a tiny opening, a chance.
The boy hesitated for a split second.
Then he moved.
Scrambling to his feet, he stumbled once, then bolted past the edge of the circle.
"Hey!"
One of the nobles turned, too late.
By the time they reacted, the boy was already running across the courtyard, disappearing behind one of the stone buildings a moment later.
A defeating silence filled the courtyard.
Slowly, very slowly, Simon turned his head back toward Elijah.
The smile was still there.
But it had changed.
"You did that on purpose," he said, his lips curling into a sinister grin.