"Dude, Sunday went way too fast…" Rudy groaned, letting out a long and audible yawn as they left the dorm room towards breakfast.

Melody too seemed unenthusiastic for the new week—yet not a strand of her hair was out of place. To the untrained eye she seemed like normal, but Michael who had served her for three years could see the dull look in her eyes.

"Just six more days until our next day off," Michael chirped back, receiving yet another groan in response and an eye roll from the girl beside him.

"Don't be so pessimistic, I heard our spellcrafting class will finally begin this week," he added, trying to improve the mood, "and don't forget the electives too. I'll finally be able to start learning ancient languages."

Unfortunately, his enthusiasm for the extra classes was not shared by Rudy—though Melody seemed almost repulsed at the mention of electives. Her usual dignified expression contorted, making it seem like she'd just eaten a sour lemon.

Raising an eyebrow, Michael suddenly realized he hadn't even asked her what she'd chosen. Thinking now was a good time, he asked her the question, only to receive a groan in response.

"Diplomacy…" she eventually replied, with the enthusiasm of a dead fish. "And before you ask—I did not have a choice in the matter."

It didn't take much thinking to know who was forcing the issue, nor the reasons why. With Melody's precarious position in the noble circle, learning about diplomacy would be crucial—especially if her father's plans were to work out.

"Well, have fun with that…" Michael replied instinctively, choosing to drop the matter. It sounded like his two roommates weren't in the mood for pleasantries this morning anyway.

As they were walking through the hall, something Michael had been dreading happened—at the intersection where the green dorms were located.

For the Arcane's sake… Michael cursed inwardly, seeing the sharp-eyed Braydon emerge from the other corridor, flanked by Randolph and Craig. It was as if fate was constantly toying with them, causing them to meet at every opportunity.

Rudy suddenly snapped to attention, his gaze trained on the three new arrivals—seemingly eager for the next confrontation.

Randolph and Craig paled upon seeing Michael, their body's tensing. Braydon on the other hand glared at Michael with pure hatred, his eyes practically glowing beneath his brow.

A brief silence followed as the two groups stared at each other, yet unexpectedly, the noble turned and continued walking, his two lackeys quickly following behind him.

The scene was bizarre—shocking even.

Had the pompous Braydon really ignored Michael? After the attack he'd pulled just the day before?

Even Melody seemed dumbfounded, apparently expecting things to go south from the moment they appeared in front of them.

The trio watched as Braydon and his goons disappeared further down the hall, too dumbstruck to speak. It wasn't until they were out of sight that Rudy broke the silence.

"Huh? Am I imagining things or did Blueberry just walk off without a word?" he asked incredulously.

"No, I saw it too…" Michael added.

"Do you think he's scared? Or maybe the headmaster spoke to him, telling him not to retaliate?" Rudy reasoned, rubbing his chin in thought.

"I don't know, but it's a good thing," Melody chimed in, letting out a quiet sigh of relief. "If he's taking a passive stance now, we might not have as much trouble as I thought."

Rudy, however, clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Damn it… I was really looking forward to telling everyone how weak his bladder was."

Michael ignored the comment, his gaze lingering down the hallway where Braydon had disappeared. A small wave of relief washed over him, lightening his mood more than he expected.

"This is panning out to be a better day than I thought," he said with a grin, stepping forward with renewed energy.

Rudy groaned again, shattering the brief good atmosphere, but Michael let it slide.

After grabbing a much-needed breakfast, the trio made their way outside for combat class with their favorite sadist—Professor Quinn.

Over the past week, Quinn had cemented herself as the number-one professor no one dared to cross. And for good reason. Disobeying her orders didn't just earn you punishment—it earned the entire class punishment.

Push-ups, laps, hauling training dummies across the field—her methods were brutal, but undeniably effective.

Because of it, students actively policed each other, terrified of being dragged down by someone else's mistakes.

"Welcome, my soldiers!"

Quinn greeted them with a dazzling grin, dressed in her usual tight, black bodysuit—one that seemed just a little too revealing to be worn in front of teenagers.

Not that anyone dared stare anymore. The lesson had been drilled into them: look too long, and suffer.

"Last week," she began, standing with perfect posture, "we worked on your fitness." Her gaze swept across the assembled students like a predator sizing up prey. "A few of you were… surprising."

Her smile widened unnervingly.

"But the rest of you?" She paused, letting silence stretch before finishing flatly, "Complete. And. Utter. Dogshit."

The words were harsh, but Michael couldn't deny they were fair.

His gaze flicked toward Melody, who—despite her grace and precision—had come dead last in every single physical exercise last week.

She seemed to sense his glance immediately, a frown forming as she turned and leveled a glare at him sharp enough to cut steel.

Michael wisely snapped his attention back to Quinn, resisting the urge to provoke a second battlefront.

"So," Quinn continued, hands clasped behind her back, "while we will continue working on your fitness, it's time I teach you the basics of combat."

Without another word, she strode toward one of the nearby training dummies, positioning herself at striking distance.

"Watch carefully."

In the next moment, her right knee rose sharply as she pivoted on her left leg. Her body twisted gracefully, momentum coiling like a drawn bowstring. Then, in a single fluid motion, she unleashed a vicious kick.

The dummy jolted violently, its head snapping backward before bobbing repeatedly as it absorbed the force.

A hexagonal barrier surrounding it flared crimson in response, dispersing the impact across its protective shield.

"That," Quinn said casually, lowering her leg, "was only my physical strength."

Her lips curved into a dangerous smile. "But if I add mana…"

What followed was a blur.

Quinn remained perfectly still, her foot planted where it had been, but her body shimmered faintly—as though reality itself bent around her.

An instant later, the dummy began trembling violently, rocking back and forth under an unseen force. The barrier glowed fiercely, flashing from blue to green in rapid bursts as it struggled to absorb the damage.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Quinn turned back to face them, her grin sharp and predatory.

"Combat," she declared, her voice ringing clear, "doesn't always involve spells, my soldiers. There are many ways to defeat your opponents…"

Her gaze lingered on the students, daring any of them to underestimate her words.

"And starting today," she finished, "you'll learn all of them."

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