Ashern City - Reinhart Institute of War, 4th of Brightforge, year 315 UC
The morning air felt unusually thick as Bryan walked the familiar path toward the gymnasium.
Flexing his fingers, he frowned at the slight delay between thought and action. Something felt off. His reaction time lagged by milliseconds. Not that noticeable, but a millisecond could be the difference between life and deaf in a fight.
After yesterday's match, he took it easy and rested. His body needed time to recover, but as he rolled his shoulder,rs they felt a bit stiff.
He'd pushed himself hard lately—the team battles, the constant training. Perhaps this was simply fatigue catching up with him. Maybe he should take it easier going forward.
He chuckled at that. Who was he kidding? He would never do things the easy way.
'I'll push harder tomorrow. Today is just an outlier. Probably.'
He thought.
The word "probably" lingered in his mind. He didn't deal in probabilities. He dealt in certainties. Yet here he was, making excuses for substandard performance.
His hand drifted up to his upper lip, the memory of yesterday's nosebleed still fresh.
That nosebleed hadn't come from exertion or from using his magic. It had been random.
But what led up to it? He what? Zoned out? Lost time? One moment he'd been watching the arena, the next Team Four's match was over and Christopher was talking about how impressive Alessia had been.
Bryan had missed everything. Completely blanked during a critical moment.
That should have terrified him. It didn't. And that, more than anything, scared him.
Yet, the nosebleed happened after that when he regrouped with his team.
He paused at the intersection of two paths, staring at nothing as his mind worked through possibilities.
Yet one thought persisted, impossible to dismiss entirely:
'There's something wrong. It's subtle. But it's getting worse.'
The gymnasium was just ahead and Bryan could hear faint sounds of activity inside.
As he reached the doors, Bryan took a moment to compose himself. He straightened his posture, squared his shoulders, and pushed everything else aside. Focus returned—or at least the mask of focus. The appearance of control was sometimes as important as control itself.
One deep breath.
He pushed open the door.
And immediately heard shouting.
"—supposed to be our captain! You're making decisions like we're children who can't handle ourselves!"
Bryan slowed his pace, scanning the gymnasium. Christopher stood in the center of the gym, jabbing a finger at Alexander's chest. His face was flushed with anger. Bryan raised an eyebrow—he'd expected Sabrina to be the one yelling, not Christopher.
But Sabrina was sitting cross-legged on the floor nearby, picking at her nails with an expression of profound boredom. Every few seconds she'd roll her eyes at the argument unfolding before her.
"You were cautious as hell this time, Alexander! We could've had them if you hadn't pulled us back!"
Christopher's voice echoed through the gymnasium.
Alexander ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement.
"I didn't want anyone getting taken out by friendly fire again, alright? Is that so bad?"
Christopher threw his hands up, almost incredulous.
"No one even cared about that! You told Sabrina to go full artillery mode in match one, and now you're micromanaging everyone like we're fragile? We were in a forest! Yet you had us grouped up like sitting ducks!"
"So what? You want me to let people die again just so we can say we 'tried'? I don't even know what you want from me!"
Alexander's voice cracked slightly with emotion.
Sabrina groaned from her position on the floor.
"Oh my god. Will you both shut up already? We lost. Get over it."
Christopher turned toward Farrah, who stood leaning against the wall, arms folded across her chest.
"You've been quiet. What do you think?"
Farrah sighed, her green eyes flicking between Christopher and Alexander.
"You're both are still too worked up to talk about it properly. This kind of thing is better to discuss with cooler heads."
Bryan stepped forward.
"What happened?"
Everyone turned to look at him, the argument momentarily forgotten.
Sabrina replied, her tone sarcastic and tired.
"We lost. That's what happened."
She stood, brushing herself off with exaggerated motions.
"Alessia wasn't even the problem. The others were."
Her eyes flicked toward Bryan, a half-smile tugging at her lips.
"What was the plan again? Assassinate her? That was your genius idea?"
She chuckled, the sound bitter and amused.
"Yeah, think again. She didn't even move. Victor, Julius, and Isabella steamrolled us like we were practice dummies."
She laughed.
"Do you even know what they can do?"
Farrah glanced at Sabrina.
Sabrina, catching the look, threw up her hands.
"What? Don't look at me like that. We're all thinking it."
Bryan met her stare evenly.
"They told me to rest. But you aren't blaming me for what happened, are you? Because I wasn't even there."
"Exactly."
Sabrina took a step forward, jabbing a finger in his direction.
"You're so injured, sick, or whatever, and won't tell anyone what's happening, that you failed to participate in our match. So yes, it is partly your fault that we lost."
Alexander and Christopher exchanged uncomfortable glances while Farrah's posture tensed.
If that's how she planned on handling this, then he could play her game.
"If you were more skilled, then you could have taken them on. You're always blaming others for something, but have you taken accountability yet for your own actions?"
Sabrina's face flushed red, her hands clenching at her sides.
"That's rich coming from—"
"No one forced you to cast your spell yesterday."
Bryan cut her off, taking a step closer.
"But you did it anyway, and when shit took a wrong turn, you were quick to blame someone else. You did not have to do that, but you did it anyway."
His eyes narrowed.
"A real mage would have gone against the order because they are competent and know exactly what needs to be done."
Bryan took another step toward her until they were inches apart. His voice lowered.
"You're so worthless you can't even see that you're the second most useless person on our team, following behind Alexander."
The words hung in the air for a split second before Sabrina lunged forward, swinging her fist toward Bryan's face. He moved, sidestepping the blow and catching her arm in one fluid motion. Before anyone could react, he twisted it behind her back, holding her in place.
"Not even two seconds."
He whispered near her ear.
"If you were a real threat, you'd already be dead."
With a dismissive motion, Bryan released her, shoving her forward. Sabrina stumbled, catching herself before she fell.
"Both of you, calm down."
Farrah stepped forward to try and diffuse the situation.
"This isn't helping anyone."
Sabrina whirled around, her eyes blazing.
"No, screw you! Screw Bryan! I don't need this, and I definitely don't need to hear more 'let's be peaceful' talk from you."
She pointed at Bryan, her finger trembling slightly.
"If he thinks he's such a badass, then let's see how he handles anything with a man down."
She turned on her heel, storming toward the exit. Her footsteps echoed against the polished floor.
"Sabrina, wait!"
Farrah called after her, taking a few steps forward but stopping short of actually pursuing her.
As Sabrina reached the exit, her hand closing around the handle, the door swung open from the outside. She nearly collided with Alan, who stood in the doorway.
Alan's gaze moved from Sabrina's furious expression to the tense tableau behind her.
"Going somewhere, Rigof?"
Alan asked.
Sabrina straightened, composing herself quickly.
"Not feeling good. Heading back to rest."
"Oh really?"
Alan's eyebrow rose slightly.
"Because from the bit I've heard, it seems like you have a problem."
His gaze shifted past her to the others standing further away.
"They all seem to have a problem."
Sabrina opened her mouth to respond, but Alan cut her off with a sharp gesture.
"Go stand back with the others. You're not sick—you're just running away."
Alan walked past her into the gymnasium. Sabrina grumbled something under her breath but followed his instruction, rejoining the group with folded arms and a scowl.
"Let me make something clear."
Alan said, his voice carrying through the space without him having to raise it.
"I don't care about your personal problems. Handle it on your personal time. If you have a problem with that, then head to the cafeteria, take a straw, and suck up your feelings because you came here to train."
He paused, looking at each of them in turn.
"I'll wait if anyone has anything to say."
No one said a word.
"Good."
Alan nodded.
"First things first, your previous match was a disaster, but at least you have something to work towards."
He turned his attention to Christopher.
"What went wrong? And don't say teamwork, because that wasn't the problem."
Christopher shifted his weight, still visibly frustrated.
"We stayed grouped up, didn't go on the offensive, and let ourselves be attacked. Before we could react, we lost."
Alan nodded, then looked at Farrah.
"Same question."
"While it's true that—"
Farrah began.
"I didn't ask for your opinion."
Alan interrupted.
"I just want to know what went wrong. State the facts."
Farrah's expression remained composed despite the interruption. She nodded once.
"We did not focus on our own strengths, nor did we play our roles correctly, which left us open for attacks. Alexander wanted to play a bit more cautious since we were down a member and he didn't want a repeat of what happened in the first match, and Christopher wanted to prove himself after his quick death the first time around. We spent too much time talking about what to do, instead of actually doing anything. We had a rough plan, but didn't execute. Total failure."
"So…"
Alan said, clasping his hands behind his back,
"Shit happened and everyone has someone to blame. Thing is, each and every one of you had a part in this failure, so none of you have the right to blame anyone."
His gaze shifted to Bryan.
"That includes you, as you left your team down a person due to your condition."
Bryan opened his mouth to speak.
"Yeah, you're going to say you were fine and wanted to return."
Alan said before Bryan could get a word out.
"Problem with that is, you were not cleared for combat, and it all could have been avoided if you had reported your condition earlier."
He turned to Farrah.
"And a large part of the team's failure falls on you."
Surprise flickered across Farrah's face before she controlled it.
"You are the vice-captain."
Alan continued,
"And if the captain is not performing to the standards the others expect, you need to step up. Which you didn't do."
Alan paced a few steps.
"I put you in difficult positions for this very reason—to get you out of your comfort zone and learn a thing or two. But obviously that isn't working, so we'll have to do this the hard way."
He stopped, facing them again.
"Yesterday was the final assessment, and we instructors now have a rough gauge of your abilities. We spent the rest of the previous night coming up with a schedule. You will receive your schedule after today's training is over, and it's about time for some rearrangements of leadership."
The students exchanged glances but were otherwise silent.
"Bryan is captain now."
Alan announced.
Bryan's eyes narrowed slightly.
He wasn't expecting this. Especially with how he was behaving.
If anything, he figured Alan would have another word with him. He was far from the leadership type. That required more effort than he was willing to put in. Especially with the people on his team.
"Not because he is superior to you."
Alan clarified,
"It's simply because he has a case of thinking he can do everything by himself. As the captain, he will have a list of objectives he has to complete, and I expect them to be done, on-time, no excuses. For each time there is a slip-up, or if he ever acts alone again, you'll all face punishment."
Alan's gaze swept across the team.
"This is a fresh start, but I'm only giving you three chances, and on strike three you'll all be sent home early instead of finishing the excellence camp. Not only that, when the school term officially starts, your entire squad will be deducted a certain amount of points, and as the headmaster stated, those at the bottom will be expelled."
He took a step closer to them.
"We are training soldiers who know how to operate as a unit, follow commands, and excel. If you can't handle that, then you might as well shatter your own magic core and live as a normal person."
The threat hung in the air.
"As for the vice-captain, that will be Alexander."
Alan turned to the boy.
"And if you can't stand up for yourself, make plans with the captain, and overall just improve, then you'll all be punished. You all think this is bad? You have another thing coming."
Alexander swallowed visibly but nodded his understanding.
"Oh, and Alexander, don't think you're vice-captain for some special reason. I just don't like the fact that you're playing the 'I haven't been taught' card. Your lack of confidence—if you keep up that attitude, you'll be dead before you even graduate."