CHAPTER 36 — Class leader
Rowan stood at the entrance—
Frozen.
His eyes widened slowly, trying to take in what lay before him.
"…What the…?"
The hall was massive—far larger than any training ground he had ever seen. The ceiling arched high above, supported by towering pillars engraved with faintly glowing runic patterns. Light poured in from long vertical windows, scattering across the polished floor.
But none of that held his attention.
At the center ground was constant movements of Explosive spells.
Dozens of students clashed all at once across a wide circular field. Fire burst against water in violent hisses of steam. Blades of wind tore through chunks of rising stone. Waves of earth collided, shattered, and reformed again.
There was no order.
No structure.
Just survival.
It wasn't a duel.
It was a storm.
It was hard to tell who was fighting whom.
Three students ganged up on one boy near the left side, overwhelming him with relentless attacks
After he was ejected.
the three of them starting fighting each other.
On the opposite end, a lone girl fought off two opponents at once, her movements sharp and precise.
Some students already lay scattered around the edges—
Faces pressed into the ground.
Bodies unmoving.
Others sat slumped against the walls, gasping for breath, too exhausted to stand.
Rowan's gaze moved slowly across the battlefield—
Until it stopped.
A familiar figure sat off to the side, leaning against a pillar.
Rowan walked towards him.
"Hey! Vik-Vik."
"Hm?"
Ritvik lifted his head slightly.
"Oh! Hello Wan-Wan."
"My name is Rowan. Not Wan-Wan."
Rowan dropped down beside him with a soft thud, crossing his legs.
"If you want others to say your name correctly," Ritvik said flatly, eyes still on the battlefield, "you should also learn to say theirs correctly."
"Ah…" Rowan scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
He turned his attention back to the chaos.
"…Why are they fighting?"
Ritvik didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he turned his head slowly and looked at Rowan—
Eyes narrowing slightly, as if examining something strange.
"What?"
"You don't know?"
Rowan shook his head without hesitation.
Ritvik exhaled through his nose and brought a hand up to his temple, rubbing it lightly.
"Where were you even trained?" He muttered. "Feels like you skipped half the world. You don't know anything about this academy."
Rowan thought for a second before replying.
"...Darve dojo."
"Darve...?" Ritvik frowned. "Where is that?"
"At the Darve City."
Ritvik leaned back against the pillar again, letting out a slow breath.
"So... You are from the country side..huh."
The word wasn't insulting.
But it wasn't kind either.
The silence lingered for a second longer before Ritvik spoke again, his eyes returning to the battlefield.
"They are fighting for the position of the class leader."
Rowan blinked.
"...Class leader?
His brows furrowed slightly.
"Why? Did the instructors organise this?"
Ritvik shook his head faintly.
"Nah!"It's just a silent tradition going around the academy. Whoever left standing at the end will be the class leader."
His tone was calm.
Almost indifferent.
Rowan turned his gaze back to the battlefield.
The chaos.
The desperation.
The intensity.
"Hmm..." Rowan slowly nodded his head in a daze.
A strange thought crossed his mind.
'Did bhaiya go through this too?'
The question lingered in his mind, heavier than expected.
"Why don't you go too?"
Ritvik's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
Rowan turned, looking at him with a puzzled expression.
"Should I?"
"Well... It's up to you."
Ritvik shrugged lightly, not even looking at him this time.
"But I don't see any problem trying your luck."
"Oh..."
Rowan pushed himself up to his feet. And started walking.
But instead of going towards the fighting ground he started going towards the exit.
"Where are you going?"
"To get my axe."
Ritvik stared at him for a second.
Then slowly raised a hand—
And slapped his own forehead.
"…What?" Rowan frowned.
"It's a wandless battle."Ritvik said, his voice flat.
"You have to fight without your wand or staff."
"...Oh."
He turned around and walked back,stopping beside Ritvik again.
A small grin appeared on his face.
"Hey! why don't we go together? Let's fight."
Ritvik gave him a dull, unimpressed look.
Rowan stood there, confused by the reaction—
Until his eyes finally noticed.
Ritvik's condition.
The dust was clinging to his outfit, the fabric singed slightly at the edges. Faint marks traced along his forearm. A bruise darkened the side of his jaw, and there was a small cut near his lip that had already dried.
Only then did Rowan realised that Ritvik has already been quite roughed up.
"You have already...?"
"It was a bad match up." Ritvik replied immediately, as if he didn't want to discuss it further.
Rowan stared at him for a moment longer.
"…What are you looking at?"
"…Nothing."
"Then go."
Rowan turned back toward the battlefield.
For a brief second—
He just stood there.
Watching.
Then—
His fingers curled slowly into a fist.
Excitement flickered in his eyes.
"…Alright."
And he stepped forward.
---
Once he crossed the barrier that was surrounding the battle ground.
Only then did Rowan understood the intensity of the battle.
The air felt denser.
Heavier.
The sounds grew sharper, louder, overwhelming his senses all at once.
The spells were flying everywhere. Not caring who is it hitting.
Rowan exhaled deeply.
But then suddenly —
"Ah—!" He vision blurred as something struck his side.
He hit the ground hard.
"What—?"
He slowly got up but before he could even finish—
Another impact struck his back.
And then Another impact.
From the left.
Then another—
From behind.
"Ugh—!"
And then another—
From the front.
"Ugh—!"
Rowan coughed as he pushed himself up, his body staggering under the sudden barrage.
'What the hell—who hit me—?'
But there was no answer.
There couldn't be.
Spells were flying from every direction, crossing paths, colliding, missing, hitting—
Rowan staggered, barely regaining his footing as spells flew across the field without direction or restraint.
No one was targeting him.
No one needed to.
Because here, Everything was a threat.
There was no target.
No intention.
Just chaos.
Another hit.
"Och—!"
Then another.
"OHHch—!"
Something snapped.
Rowan's expression hardened.
"…Tch."
Mana gathered around his hands almost instinctively.
"Fine—!"
He thrust his arm forward.
"Take this!"
A fireball shot out.
It hit.
Someone went flying out of the field.
But Rowan still wasn't satisfied.
Another spell—
Water surged from his palm, crashing into two students locked in combat and knocking both of them out of balance.
Rowan didn't stop.
He kept firing.
Left.
Right.
Forward.
Everywhere.
A boy who had just defeated his opponent raised his arms in victory—
Only to be blasted off his feet the next second.
Another student yelped loudly, jumping and clutching his backside as a poorly aimed fireball struck him in the worst possible place
"…What the hell—?!" someone shouted.
Slowly a wicked grin speard across Rowan's lips. Wide and Unrestrained.
"…Why is this so fun?"
There were no rules.
No structure.
Just chaos.
And he fit into it perfectly.
He turned—
Launched another spell.
Then another.
He didn't aim carefully.
Didn't hesitate.
Anywhere he saw the movement—
He attacked.
Rowan laughed under his breath.
"…Heh…"
His eyes gleamed.
"…Why does this feel so fun…?"
And just like that he kept firing.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until the chaos began to thin—
And the battlefield slowly started to empty.
'I don't know why but... it's so much fun.'
Rowan continued launching spells after spells.
---
As time passed, the chaos that once filled the battlefield slowly began to thin out, like a storm losing its strength after raging at full force. One by one, students were thrown out of the combat zone, their bodies vanishing in flashes as the system recognized their defeat and removed them from the ground.
The once-crowded field began to open up, leaving behind fewer and fewer fighters standing.
Around the edges of the battlefield, the aftermath told its own story. Some students lay face-down against the cold floor, their fingers twitching faintly as they struggled to regain control over their bodies.
Others sat slumped against the walls, their backs pressed against stone pillars as they tried to steady their breathing, chests rising and falling heavily with exhaustion.
The noise had not disappeared—
But it had changed.
It was no longer chaotic.
It was focused.
At the center of the battlefield, two students remained locked in a tense standoff.
They stood several meters apart, their bodies angled slightly, their hands lowered but ready.
Both of them were breathing heavily, shoulders rising and falling as sweat dripped down their faces, their clothes marked with burns, dust, and signs of repeated impacts.
Huff… Huff...
Huff… Huff...
Their breaths came out uneven, harsh, almost ragged. Sweat dripped from their faces, their uniforms scorched and torn in places.
Neither moved.
Neither dared to.
The battlefield around them seemed quiet.
As if even the chaos was waiting.
It felt like a duel from another world.
Like two gunmen standing in the middle of an empty street, hands hovering near their holsters, waiting for the slightest twitch.
A single moment.
A single mistake.
Would decide everything.
Snap.
Their eyes widened at the exact same moment, as if an invisible signal had been given.
Ha—!"
Both of them moved.
Mana surged.
A concentrated stream of water shot forward from one side, spiraling tightly as it cut through the air with force.
At the same time, a blazing wave of fire erupted from the other, roaring forward with heat that distorted the air around it.
"Burn—!"
The two attacks collided mid-way—
Hissed—
Then broke past each other.
both students were hit at the same time.
The boy using water was thrown backward first, his body lifting slightly off the ground before vanishing in a flash as he was ejected out of the battlefield.
Flash.
The boy using fire staggered, his body trembling as he barely managed to stay standing.
But still even though it was barley,
He still remained standing.
For a second—
His face broke into a wide grin.
He raised both his hands into the air, his voice bursting out with excitement.
"Yesss—!!"
Ouch—
Before he could even finish celebrating, a spell slammed into his side.
His body jerked violently.
Flash—
And he disappeared from the field.
From the direction of that spell—
Rowan stood.
His body was covered in light bruises, his clothes slightly scorched and dusted with dirt, his breathing uneven but far from exhausted. A few strands of hair stuck to his forehead from sweat, but his eyes—
His eyes were shining.
A grin slowly spread across his face, unrestrained and almost wild.
"Hehehe…"
A low laugh escaped him, his shoulders shaking slightly.
"It's so fun…"
There was no calculation in that moment.
No strategy.
Just pure, chaotic enjoyment.
But then —
"Ouch—!"
A sudden impact struck him from the side before he could react.
His body lurched, his vision spinning slightly as he lost balance and hit the ground with a dull thud. The air was knocked out of his lungs for a moment, forcing a sharp breath out of him as he struggled to push himself back up.
"What the— who even—"
He looked around, trying to locate the attacker—
But there was no clear answer.
Because now—
The battlefield had gone quiet.
The wide arena…
Was empty.
No chaos.
No crossfire.
No scattered attacks flying from all directions.
Just silence.
And one other presence.
He lifted his head.
And saw her.
A girl stood across from him, completely still.
"Huh?"
Her black hair fell straight down her back, long and smooth, with a few strands brushing lightly against her face as the faint airflow of lingering mana passed through the arena. Her posture was relaxed, almost effortless, yet there was not a single opening in the way she stood.
Her eyes were dark and clear.
Focused entirely on him.
There was no strain in her breathing.
No visible injury.
Her uniform remained neat, barely disturbed, as if she had simply walked through the chaos rather than fought in it.
Rowan straightened his posture, rolling his shoulders slightly as he steadied himself.
A small smile formed on his lips.
'…So this is the last one.'
Without hesitation, he raised his hand.
Mana gathered.
A fireball formed, its surface swirling with unstable heat as it pulsed in his palm.
Then—
He launched it.
The fireball shot forward, cutting through the air with speed.
But—
She moved.
A simple shift of her body, a slight step to the side—
And the fireball missed completely, passing by her shoulder before crashing into the ground behind her.
Before Rowan could react—
She raised her hand.
A compressed projectile of wind formed instantly at her fingertips and shot forward.
Fast.
Sharp.
Precise.
It hit him directly.
Rowan's body jerked as the impact forced him back several steps, his feet scraping against the ground as he struggled to stabilize himself.
"Tch—"
He tried to retaliate, gathering mana again—
But she didn't give him the time.
Another attack came.
Then another.
Each one clean.
Each one perfectly timed.
Rowan raised his arms quickly, crossing them in front of his face as he braced himself.
The impacts landed against his forearms, the force traveling through his body, forcing him to step back again and again.
His muscles tensed.
His teeth clenched.
'What do I do…?'
His thoughts raced as he endured the barrage.
He couldn't keep up like this.
He couldn't outpace her casting speed.
Then—
Something clicked.
'…Idea.'
Rowan remained in place, his arms still raised as if he had no intention of attacking anymore.
The barrage slowed slightly.
Just for a moment.
And that moment—
Was enough.
He dropped one arm and instantly launched a fireball.
She reacted immediately, twisting her body as the attack passed beside her.
But—
That was never the real attack.
Rowan had already moved.
He had closed the distance.
His fist pulled back.
A memory flickered.
"Hai-yah"
Rowan punched the air.
But there was nothing.
Slap!
Riven's hand landed flat against his forehead.
"Why are you hitting yourself?" Rowan complained, rubbing his head.
"I feel like I should hit myself more," Riven replied flatly.
"Why?!"
"For agreeing to teach you this."
Riven exhaled deeply, dragging a hand down his face before shouting at Rowan.
"How many times do I have to explain this to youuuu…?"
Rowan instinctively covered his ears.
"Covering your ears won't magically make you understand," Riven said, crossing his arms.
"Sigh... Gosh, i shouldn't have agreed to teach you this."
Riven let out a heavy sigh as he rubbed his temple.
"I'm trying!" Rowan protested. "You punched like this and there was water around your fist!"
He tried again—
And this time he looked less like a fighter and more like someone swatting an invisible mosquito in mid-air.
Riven stared at him in silence.
Then sighed.
"Sighh... The base of this technique isn't the punch."
Rowan paused.
"It's gathering mana around your fist. You shape it—hold it—compress it. Unlike normal spells, you don't release it. You keep it there… and strike with it."
While Riven is saying all this.
Rowan pulled his fist back and proceeded to punched the air again.
Back to present —
Water gathered around Rowan's fist, spiraling tightly in a compressed shell.
His fist closing the gap.
But—
The girl extended her hand first.
her index finger inches away from Rowan's forehead.
Before Rowan's fist could reach. The fire burst and hit him point blank.
Rowan's vision went white.
His body lifted off the ground—
Then vanished.
Flash
---
Blink... Blink...
Rowan's eyes slowly opened, his vision blurry as the ceiling above him came into focus.
The polished surface reflected the light, forcing him to squint slightly as he adjusted.
Then—
A shadow fell over his face.
"Hey… you alright?"
Rowan shook his head, trying to focus.
"Mah… Ritvik?"
Ritvik didn't respond immediately.
He simply stared down at Rowan for a second, his expression flat and unreadable.
Then—
Smack.
"Woah—!"
Rowan jolted upright instantly, clutching his forehead as a sharp sting spread across it.
His body reacted before his mind could process anything, his posture snapping straight as if he had just been electrocuted.
"What was that for?!" he snapped, glaring at Ritvik while rubbing his temple.
"You finally said my name right." Ritvik let out a chuckle.
Rowan froze for a second.
"…Oh."
The irritation drained out of him just as quickly as it had come.
"Haha..."
Rowan let out a small laugh but his eyes didn't had their sharp playful edge. what was there was a thin while of glassiness.
'i thought i would win but... Ahhh."
He streched his arms and blinked slowly, his lashes lingering for a fraction of a second to swallow the tiny, sharp sting sitting somewhere deep in his chest.
Slowly a shadow fell over him.
"Hmm..?"
He looked up and saw the same girl he was fighting just moments ago.
"You were reckless," she said calmly, her voice steady and composed, "but… decent."
She extended her hand towards him.
"My name is Sarina welclover."
"Welclover?"
Ritvik muttered eyes narrowing slightly.
"You know her?" Rowan asked. glancing between the two.
Ritvik shook his head.
"Nah... Never heard the name."
Sarina let out a small, almost dismissive breath through her nose.
"There are a million mage families," she said casually, her gaze shifting toward Ritvik with mild indifference. "You can't possibly know all of them… right?"
Rowan reached out and took her hand.
His grip was firm, though a bit rough around the edges compared to her steady composure.
"Rowan."
Their hands met briefly with a simple shake.
Sarina withdrew her hand smoothly, her eyes shifting back to him almost immediately.
"That last spell you tried…" she said, her
gaze sharpening just slightly. "What was it?"
Rowan blinked.
"Huh?"
"The structure was unstable and..."
she continued, her tone analytical now.
"It didn't look like a common spell, the casting was also unusual too."
At that Rowan remembered he was trying to use the flowing fist of Riven.
He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his shoulders lifting slightly.
"Well… it's not really mine," he admitted.
"A friend taught me. I just haven't gotten it right yet."
Ritvik let out a quiet snort from the side.
"Seriously?" he said, glancing at Rowan with a dry look. "Do you have some kind of allergy to normal casting? First those axe spells… and now this?"
Rowan shot him a quick glance, then shrugged it off like it didn't matter.
"And you..."
Sarina shifted her attention.
Her gaze landed on Ritvik.
"you…" she said, pointing at him slightly.
Ritvik met her eyes without reacting.
"You're good," she continued, "but your focus was somewhere else."
Ritvik didn't answer.
He just stared at her for a second.
Then—
He tilted his head, eyes moved past her.
Rowan noticed it.
His own gaze followed.
Both of their expressions changed.
Sarina caught that shift.
Her brows lifted slightly, a hint of confusion crossing her face.
"…What?"
When she turned. She finally saw what was their reason for this reaction.
"…What the hell?"
Her voice remained calm.
But there was a pause in it.
A crack in the composure.
Across the training ground—
Every single defeated student—
Was kneeling.
Foreheads pressed firmly against the floor.
Bodies lowered completely.
Facing her.
"We welcome our Class Leader… Miss Welclover."
The words echoed faintly across the hall.
Sarina stood still.
Her face didn't change much.
But her eyes—
They went flat and unimpressed.
Behind her, Rowan leaned slightly toward Ritvik, lowering his voice.
"…Do we have to do that too?"
Ritvik glanced at the scene, then shrugged lazily.
"Nah," he said. "They probably hit their heads too hard."
Rowan's brows slowly pulled together as he looked at the sheer number of people bowing.
"…This many people…?"
Sarina exhaled softly.
Then raised her voice just enough to carry.
"Hey. You don't have to do this."
But her words fell on deaf ears.
There was no response.
Not a single one moved.
Not a single head lifted.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
A flicker of irritation passed through them.
"…Fine."
A brief pause followed.
Then—
"Be like that."
Her shoulders relaxed just a fraction.
"It's starting to feel good."
The reaction was immediate.
The students pressed their foreheads even harder against the ground.
Rowan blinked.
"…Yeah."
A pause.
'…Looks like they won't be getting up.'
And just like that—
Without any announcement Or Without any ceremony.
A class leader had been decided.
--
CHAPTER ENDS