Grace Light was not having a good time.
The fact that Freya could tell meant something had gone terribly wrong.
Class S's camp, which was normally efficient under Grace's command, had broken into clusters and groups around the center where a dead student lay openly on the ground.
Freya recognized him immediately. Marcus Vrell, a minor noble from House Vrell. Most of the class knew him.
Very few liked him.
Arrogant, handsy with the girls, cruel to commoners, protected by status just enough that his behavior had always been treated as an unpleasant inconvenience rather than a punishable offense.
Now he was dead.
The body had not been hidden, nor was there any attempt to do so from the looks of it.
Marcus was sprawled in the open near one of the supply paths, uniform twisted, eyes wide, one hand still gripping dirt as if he'd tried to crawl away.
The wound was obvious. A clean mana-infused puncture through the chest, precise enough to rupture his core entirely.
