It turned out that Princess Iskara is sneaky.

People had started to like me a bit too much, so she took what happened between us and twisted it in such a way that I seem more than I really am. Now that they do not see me as someone shallow, they are far less trusting.

The banquet hall sits under a vaulted ceiling, lined with braziers that carry heat around the room. Black flames burn in iron bowls along the walls. Stone banners hang from chains and show the sigils of the Academy. Banquet tables run the length of the room, and the nine Champions sit at the central one covered by plates heaped with spiced meat and bowls filled with dark fruit. Servants wander by quietly, averting their eyes. Silverware clinks, and the low murmur of conversation rolls through the room.

"Just call me Iskara, Jacob. Especially after how you've already laid your hands on me like that," she says in a sultry tone, tilting her chin so that the light reflects off of her smooth horns.

She's good. Very good.

I look into the Princess's eyes for a few moments and then smile. The room holds its breath in anticipation.

King Baalrek, please never forget something.

What?

I come from the mines.

"Well," I say, and I let my voice carry, "I did perform a ritual on Princess Iskara. I have this Ancient Infernal knowledge, and she was so sick that I wanted to help."

A few Champions lean in. Asterion folds his hands and watches me without blinking. Sabrina taps the rim of her goblet with her ring. I see that what I said makes them curious, yet it does not close it.

"What kind of ritual are we talking about, lad?" Boomgar snickers through his beard. "Because I know some rituals you might have been performing, alright."

"Yeah, so, I think that Princess—sorry, Iskara, took my help too personally and is now acting a bit possessive."

"Huh?" Iskara turns toward me, confused, and the black flame nearest to her bends.

"I don't know, it must be how I touched her. See, I may have had to draw runes on her bare body. I found this ritual in an Elite Dungeon and knew I could help. I swear, if you have a spell to confirm this or you can tell if I'm lying, please do."

"He's not lying," Asterion interjects, causing a few Champion's eyebrows to raise.

I know I'm not. I did find King Baalrek—the one who taught me the ritual—in an Elite Dungeon. This is technically all true.

"Right, and so, I might have helped clean up a few of her mana veins and… I don't know, she now seems to like me a bit too much, and I think she may be marking her territory. I just want to say, for the sake of clarity among us Champions, I am not looking for any romantic connection, especially one as difficult as ours for the moment."

Please, Asterion, do not say I'm lying now.

Asterion tilts his head as if he weighs my words on a scale, and he keeps silent. He probably thinks that I like Princess Iskara, and that is the only lie here.

"So, yeah. Sorry, I had to bring this up, Iskara," I say, and I turn toward the red-skinned woman.

I think you underestimate how mad you just made this woman. Infernals are not as proud and unreasonable as Dragonkin, Jacob Cloud. But that applies only to the men. Infernal women are the most beautiful women of any race. To say that they have the largest pride—which you really just hurt—would be the understatement of the century. So, prepare yourself for death.

"Oof, I'm so full," I say, scraping the floor as I push my chair back from the table. I move away from Iskara, and I feel the heat from her seat on my face. "How's it going, brother?" I askKai as I step behind his massive frame on the other side of the table.

Thin wisps of black flame gather along Iskara's forearms. I remember how that same flame broke the school's barrier like it was paper, and I feel my skin start to prickle. Around the table, I see satisfied expressions, some laughter, and curious eyes watching my movements.

You might have angered her, but I'll give you this, you turned the situation back on her. Your insanity worked, once again, in your favor. They now don't trust her. And with the Highblood confirming you were telling the truth… incredible. Sometimes I wish you were an actual Infernal, Jacob Cloud.

Thank you. Do you think she'll actually kill me?

Probably. But not now. Just be careful. Also, you still have to tutor her. She's going to be the crown jewel of my people.

Wait, what? Are you serious? Tutor her?

She looks like she would love nothing more than to kill me right now. The hall feels smaller because of it.

Two people enjoy the show in a clear way. Vyrrak bares his teeth at Iskara and seems to bathe in her anger as if it were the sun. Sabrina Margrave's eyes carry a glint of joy that she has found a new seam to pull.

"Jacob Cloud, you really are remarkable with your tongue," the Princess says, as she stands slowly. "I would suggest, though, that we put your Skills to the test. You offered several times to tutor me. Why don't we step outside and see if you're worthy of that honour, of standing with the strongest of the Champions? If we must trust you with our lives, I would like to know whether you're capable of handling them or not."

I look at the other Champions, and Kai looks at me, too. No one protests. Their anticipation rises like steam above a kettle.

She lost the verbal sparring match, Cloud. Now she is about to humiliate you and remind you that your power is nothing compared to theirs. They might like you, but they'll soon realize that it's not kinship. It's more like having a small, stupid pet that you like but must take care of.

I really don't like your similes, King Baalrek.

"So? What will it be?" Princess Iskara smiles as the black flames on the wall jump.

I cannot refuse. If I do, any credit I gained here will drain away. I already have a weak standing, and I do not want to look easier to pick apart.

"I don't think that's fair, Princess Iskara," Kai says, and he rises from his seat so his shadow covers the table. "Jacob is not—"

"No, you know what?" I interrupt, and I pat my giant brother's shoulder. "It's alright, Iskara. I imagine you can't wait for me to lay my hands on you again."

She's going to kill you.

She'll try, I think back as I meet the Infernal Princess's narrowed eyes. But I have my ways, King Baalrek. Don't worry.

* * *

We descend into a training courtyard that sits inside a pocket dimension. Vyrrak leads us down a spiral stair and through a stone arch that drinks the light. The air shifts when we cross the threshold. The sky above looks painted and still, with a pale sun that hangs without warmth. A ring of tiles marks the arena floor. White ward-lines creep along the stone. Wooden racks with practice weapons line the walls, and benches rise in tiers for an audience that does not exist right now.

"What were you thinking, Princess?" I ask as we take our places. The other eight Champions take spots several meters back.

"Just a normal sparring match, Cloud. What's your power level?"

"Huh, what's that?" I ask, and I frown.

"What monsters do you think you can take?"

"Late Gold, Peak Gold?" I say, and I do not feel sure. "That's what I've faced so far."

"Not even Platinum," she says derisively, not bothering to even look at me. "What an interesting Champion you are. Put up your guard."

I summon Hellbane's Sword and Dark Blade. The grips sit warm in my palms. I fuse them with care so that the Black Flame coils along their edge like night ink. I breathe deeply through my chest with the Grimoire and Infernal Architect activated at the ready. I anchor my stance.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

My ears ring. Without warning, the world flips. The painted sky stares down at me.

Bile comes up from my stomach without warning. I twist to the side and vomit on the stone. Acid and bile burn my throat, and I suck air in short gasps. I push myself up with my hand. My arm shakes with exertion. Princess Iskara stands where I last saw her, face serene.

"You're fast," I say, as an acidic burp pushes out of me while I try to steady my breath. "Very fast. Good for you."

The Infernal Princess does not look happy at my casual tone. This time, my eyes catch a blur that crosses the space. It barely lasts for a blink, as I desperately try to process what is about to happen.

She's too fast.

I do not even feel the ground hit me. The sound arrives after my lungs forget how to work. I wheeze, ribs aching as I desperately try to suck in breath.

She's so strong.

Your Rainbow Skill gave you a distorted perception of your strength, Cloud. She's not even going all out. She's playing with you so as not to kill you. There's a realm and a half of power between you two. And, as I said, she's infinitely stronger than you are. Just give up. Lose face here and move on. You'll have time to fraternize with the other champions later. A beaten dog elicits sympathy. But they'll lose all their respect for you, just so you know.

I'm not done yet.

I push to my feet again. My knees feel weak, and my hands tingle.

"So, Jacob, what would you like to teach me?" Iskara says in a mocking way. "What will you tutor me in?"

I smile with my ace in hand. The Grimoire gave me more than just flaws this time. It gave me threads of her origin, a taste of history, and sharp notes about the person behind the Skill.

"We can start with motherly love. You didn't receive much of it growing up, did you?"

The Champions frown as a group. They do not know if I'm just talking trash or if what I say is the truth. Their heads shake in pity because they expect Iskara to laugh, knock me out, and then leave.

They turn back to her, and they find her frozen in shock, expressionless. Her mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out. The black flame on the wall writhes.

"You know," I continued conversationally, "it affects people in different ways that we can't even imagine. We push ourselves harder and harder, sometimes. And we even face things that might kill us in order to feel—"

"Everyone, out," Iskara says.

"What?" Boomgar asks.

"OUT! NOW! I NEED TO TALK TO CLOUD ALONE!" Iskara roars, and her mana surges, causing my bones to ache in response. The others understand just how serious her rage is when the wards at our feet start to glow ominously in response. They collectively shrug and move toward the exit portal, not wanting to test her patience.

Kai looks at me, and I nod. "Go. Don't worry. I got this."

When they are out, Princess Iskara looks at me with narrowed eyes. The arena grows even quieter, the tension heavy in the air.

"What did you say to me? Repeat it, bastard. I will take everything from you, Jacob Cloud. EVERYTHING. You think that you can play with me? You think you can just run your mouth and expect there not to be any consequence?! I WILL TAKE YOUR SOUL, CLOUD! You think I don't know that you're hiding a Rainbow Skill?!"

"Well," I say, and I smile, "I didn't run my mouth. You think I'm hiding a Rainbow Skill, but I know that you've got Lucifer's Veins. It's not a guess, I know. That's why I said you missed out on motherly love."

Iskara's face moves through several looks and then settles on pure confusion.

"How do you—"

"Part of the reason the Skill wasn't well integrated was that your body was severely damaged by overtraining. Overtraining that was driven by a female Infernal mana signature."

The Grimoire only marked these details. It was I who stitched them into the shape that defines who Iskara is.

"You were always very talented growing up, weren't you? You must have been called the crown jewel of Infernals."

"How do you know?" Iskara frowns.

That is how King Baalrek referred to her. The small risk I took, lands.

"The kind of trial that would have gotten you Lucifer's Veins must have been... You weren't even looking for that Skill, I suspect. You were simply looking for a release from your pain."

Iskara opens her mouth and trembles.

"I'm sorry," I say simply. "My mother wasn't there when I grew up. And I think I preferred it to whatever must have been done to you. I can't even imagine what you've gone through. I'm just a human, a peasant, and a miner. Where I come from, I don't have much in the way of responsibility. A few people in my mine shaft relied on me, but that's the most I've experienced when it comes to carrying that level of burden. You probably have all the expectations of your race and your mother on your shoulders. I suspect you channeled all those feelings into your training, just to make the pressure stop. You told me, 'I will take your soul.' Is that something your mother said to you?"

* * *

Iskara has never, ever, in her entire life, felt so naked.

Jacob Cloud might have seen her without clothes. She did not feel naked then. She felt a little insulted at first and tried turning it into leverage. None of her Royal aunts, her mother, her father, her grandparents, her tutors, or her mentors had ever seen her like this. No one looked past her actions and found her pain beneath.

She did not go into the trial because she had a plan to claim a Skill Crystal. She went in because she felt tired down to her bones. She wanted peace and rest and a chance to stop. Sleep called to her more than victory.

The trial was torturous, and it forced her body to accept a Skill Crystal she did not even desire. Everyone else thinks that when Iskara disappears into a hidden Dungeon Room, she did it on purpose. No one suspected that the training left her mind scraped and raw.

Her mother's training turned her talent into something beyond other young Infernals. She never says out loud what it did to her mind because the words taste like failure when she forms them. Now Jacob Cloud peeled the armor away and looked at her as if he saw her pain without judgment. The hunger that drove her to prove herself, to acquire power, and to become more drains out of her like water from a broken cup.

Tears spill down her cheeks unabated, and a hiccup spills from her throat. Her whole body shakes, and she cannot hold it in. It feels like a blade stabbing her, but it purges her of the foul blood that she kept inside to this point.

She feels a hand on her shoulder. The touch is light and shy.

She turns to him and sees an awkward smile on his face. She sees a boy who does not know any better but who knows her at the same time. Both truths sit comfortably together within her, without a fight.

* * *

The eight Champions stand in the corridor, just across from the portal arch. The portal hums, emitting a thin whirl of gray light. Stone torches burn with a steady flame. The air smells like chalk from the wards.

Vyrrak breaks the quiet. "If she kills him, do you reckon that stops the effect of the Generation of Legends?"

"It shouldn't?" Sabrina frowns, rubbing the side of her goblet with her thumb.

"It would interfere. The effect has only just started after all," Asterion interjects. "It would be most unfortunate if she did. And the Headmaster would execute her, too. A murder of a Champion at the hands of a Champion? Nothing could save her. Then, the Infernals would go to war with the Academy, most likely."

Everyone but Vyrrak shudders at the thought of that fight. The corridor feels narrow.

Two figures step out of the portal that leads to the pocket dimension.

"Hey, guys," Jacob waves a hand to them, and they see he still has all four limbs and his head attached.

"How was the sparring session?" Kai asks, and his brow tightens in a confused way.

"I've learned a lot," Princess Iskara says, and she looks at them in a level way. "I've learned a lot thanks to Jacob." Then she turns to me and gives a small bow. "I look forward to our next lesson."

Every Champion there looks at the Infernal Princess with wide eyes as she walks away with measured steps. Then they look at the young man, the weakest among them, and he stretches his neck and says, "she's got a lot of talent. She definitely needs to fix up a few things, but she shows great promise."

PROMISE!? They think in one voice, outraged. HOW SHAMELESS ARE YOU?! SHE ALMOST KILLED YOU WITH TWO EASY HITS!

* * *

I lie on my bed in the dorm and think about what my future holds.

How am I supposed to level up my Skills? Hellbane's Sword feels almost undecipherable to me. Even with the Grimoire's guidance, I risk falling behind like this. Platinum Skills are much harder to master than I expected. The Gold ones are easier, and I could even produce a perfect Runic Notation for them, but the irony is that, despite knowing all the flaws, I am just not good enough at the moment. It's just… it actually goes beyond my mana control and body awareness. My mastery of both is clearly lagging.

The dorm smells like old wood and lamp oil. A square window shows the tower roofs of the Academy and a slice of the false sun the wards mimic when classes run late. My boots sit under the bed, and my pack leans against the wall with some semblance of order.

I prepare to take a long nap, and an old man appears out of the corner of my eye.

"Elder Lioren," I say, and I smile at the old Elf.

"Jacob!" the man says with a crooked smile. "I have the list ready for you now."

"Oh."

Elder Lioren has been recommending classes, applying on my behalf, and making sure I get the best possible options. He went even farther than when he swore his oath. His white hair falls like thread over his shoulders, and his robes smell like ink and dry leaves. His eyes hold a deeply patient shine that only old Elves can hold.

"So, Monster Felling 201, Runic Notation 202, Traps and Cracks 303, you've been signed up without trouble for all three. They'll be the basic courses you'll follow. Then, I have here two more that I personally think fit your specific Class. They're Fire Manipulation 202 and Strategy 101. Strategy 101 might sound easy, son, but it's actually a third-year course. You would have to be lucky to pass it and reach Strategy 202. It is the hardest course of the entire third year. I've had to pull a few favors in order for you to get in. But when the professor heard about your Class, they were very interested in having you join. Strategy is not about battle; it's also about mana and knowledge. It fits an 'Architect' Class like yours."

"Thank you, Elder Lioren," I say, and I rise from the bed and bow deeply to the man. "You've been nothing but good to me."

"Well," Elder Lioren coughs and looks a little embarrassed. "There are also two more things. First, you might have a few more short courses throughout the year meant only for the Champions. They provide Merits but are more akin to practical exercises without much theory involved. There is, however, an Invitation that has been extended to you for an invite-only class after you become a Champion. And trust me, you don't want to miss this."

"Oh, what's the Class?"

"Veins and Body Mastery 101, Cloud. The most exclusive Class you could get into for your first year here."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.