Inside a particular grey canvas tent early in the morning, the hubbub of conversation and hushed whispers spread across the space. Some trainees animatedly discussed their hobbies, interests, or even which race in Crelerath they thought to be the strongest.
Some even went a step further and discussed which Transcendent Temple they thought to be the most powerful.
'What are they even debating about? It's obvious that the Death Temple is the strongest of them all.'
The Temple of the Marauder of Realms, better known as the Death Temple, had a certain reputation amongst the world's inhabitants. One that, mostly, sent chills down people's spines.
Known to be bloodthirsty and specialists in ritualistic sacrifices designed to appease their Lord, most people feared the Death Temple, afraid that their children would suddenly get abducted and sacrificed in some, horrifying and bloody ritual.
The Orcs were not of the same opinion, and sometimes even actively took part in kidnapping children, during their frequent pillaging of Elven and Human villages for more resources.
It was just as well, since the patron deity the Orcs worshipped, the God of Death, Destruction and Madness, went by another name…
…the Marauder of Realms.
Seated near the centre of the Cafeteria, on a wooden table, with the rest of the members of important nobility, Lucas idly stirred the steaming porridge in his bowl as the snippets of the surrounding conversations streamed into his ears.
He had a disinterested expression on his face. However, every so often his jaw would clench, a look of seething rage taking hold of his dignified features.
Glancing at the table where the source of his fury sat, the fiery-haired noble clenched his teeth and cursed the piece of trash in his heart.
If it wasn't for that lanky brown-haired trainee refusing to shun the filthy half-blood, then he would have never been punished by Instructor William in the first place, and by extension put on cabin arrest.
Lucas peeked through the corner of his eyes at the rest of his peers who possessed similar status to him. Some of them sat elegantly, trying to give off a regal air, particularly the females amongst the group.
Most, however, looked around at the other tables, sneering and snickering.
Although he had a high status, if not the highest in this Camp, Lucas knew that being a noble was nothing to scoff that. The titles had come at a great cost, particularly those of his own House and several others who had made great contributions throughout the Two Great Wars.
Others, who had merely bought their own titles after pooling together a large size of wealth - like most Viscounts who oversaw a small-sized noble family did - he felt disdain for.
'Bunch of fools.' The fiery-haired young man thought after his gaze lingered on a few haughty trainees from small-sized Noble Houses.
"Hey, what do you guys think about the upcoming Duels in four days' time? Do ya think any of them can win against one of us?" a trainee with orange hair asked, munching on the sandwich in his hands with gusto.
"Pfft… it's going to be so easy!"
"Ha! Those commoners stand no chance against us."
"I believe it's something well known that there is a vast chasm that exists between us, the young scions of proud Houses, and some bugs destined to be forever at our beck and call. That one of those repulsive things can take down one of us is laughable." A trainee with dark, purple hair scoffed.
Lucas lazily shifted his gaze toward the orange-haired trainee, his disinterested expression becoming more pronounced, before he sneered.
"Ha, to ask such a question shows how big a fool you are. As expected from someone who hails from a small-sized House."
The young teen who had posed the question, blushed in shame. A few of his neighbours scooted away from him and joined in the ridicule.
Condescending sneers formed on their faces.
Lucas scoffed, before shaking his head and focusing on his bowl of porridge. He clenched his left hand into a fist, recalling the existence of the Duels designed to assess their skill, soon.
The haughty Stanburg's features tightened in determination.
Images of the time when Nico lay sprawled on the bathroom floor flashed through his mind, bringing with it a dark sense of satisfaction.
With that, however, came a seed of doubt once Lucas remembered the indomitable will the brown-haired trainee had shown.
He angrily shook his head.
'I'll show that scum not to mess me. He will regret being born.' The redhead grit his teeth.
Lucas relaxed and sipped at his food leisurely, allowing the growing pressure in his left fist to ease. He threw any thoughts that the boy with the birthmark could win, if they were to face each other, out of his mind.
'Yeah, right? Like that could ever happen.' he sniggered inwardly.
***
'Man… this Cook sure knows how to make great porridge.' Nico thought blissfully. The morsel of food melted in his mouth, as the sweet taste of honey spread to the back of his throat.
He released a satisfied sigh before looking up and making eye contact with Henry.
The maroon-eyed trainees' lips curled subtly, a ghost of a smirk taking form. "How has Sword training been treating you so far?" he asked with an inquisitive tone.
Taking a bite of his breakfast, the green-eyed boy chewed slowly as he contemplated an answer to give in response. "I would say it has been going well. Instructor William has taught us the synchronisation method to increase the power of our attacks. He's also making us spar regularly with each other." Henry winced.
He remembered a few particular painful spars he had experienced at the hands of the more experienced trainees. The memory of the bruises lingered in his mind.
It didn't help that those who had bested him felt some sort of dark glee, as if relishing the fact that they defeated someone weaker than them.
Nico hummed, a slight smile making its way on his hollow face. He shifted his gaze and stared at the ravenous half-blood, who showed no signs of having sated his hunger. Even after two bowls of porridge and a handful of sandwiches.
'I wish I could eat like that.' Nico sighed and patted his belly. Although he wished to eat more, to build more muscle and store more energy before training, his stomach refused to work with him.
"What about you, Leon? How's Hammer training going?"
Leon, who had paused stuffing his mouth with food the moment he heard his name being called, looked up and locked eyes with his brown-haired companion. His cheeks bulged outward.
The burly took a moment to chew his food down before responding in a quiet voice barely above a whisper, "So far it has been great! Particularly my instructor who has a passion for weapons and how they're made." Leon grinned, his face lighting up after remembering the many talks he had had with his instructor about crafting.
'That's good.' Nico's smile widened. He was happy there was someone other than him and Henry that could converse with the burly boy.
"What about you? How is Spear training?" the half-blood asked, in between mouthfuls.
The brown-haired boy froze. A dry chuckle escaped his mouth as he tugged at his collar anxiously, recalling his peculiar instructor.
"It's going… well." Nico replied. He took a deep breath before proceeding to narrate all that happened with his Spear instructor.
Henry boisterously roared in laughter. His hand smacking the table multiple times. "Oh, man. That's gold!" he wiped the tears at the corner of his eyes.
Leon, averted his gaze as his lips trembled. He desperately tried to suppress the laugh that threatened to escape his mouth.
Nico buried his face in his hands. "Wait… it gets worse. He called me his little hen!" the lank teen shivered intensely, a look of profound horror in his eyes as he remembered Phantom's antics.
Henry and Leon both choked on their food. An intense coughing fit resounded, before the raven-haired boy and half-blood's lips trembled even more. Somehow they managed not to crack up.
A moment later, however, they paled sighting the evil grin that suddenly bloomed on Nico's face. "Anyone want to switch instructors?" Nico shifted his gaze to the farmer, currents of mischief swirling deep in his maroon pupils.
"Henry don't you think you would make a good fit to be Phantom's student? You know more about hens than I do, after all."
The raven-haired trainee jaw dropped, his mouth open in disbelief. He cursed quickly, "N-no! Nico, my best and most awesome friend, you are Phantom's dear, precious specimen. I cannot replace you. I beg of you, don't switch with me!" Henry fidgeted in his seat, scrambling to find a way out of the situation.
His eyes darted about the place, before a golden idea popped in his head. Henry shifted his gaze toward the muscular half-blood, a grin similar to that of a sly fox splitting his face. "Ah look, Leon would be the perfect person for your instructor's tutelage!" the green-eyed trainee pointed enthusiastically towards his dwarven counterpart. "I mean, look at those firm muscles! That raw power! And, uh… uh, his weathered face! Man, look at that trauma!"
Henry immediately stuffed his mouth with the remaining bits of porridge in his bowl, before he hastily stood up and bolted for the exit, leaving the poor half-blood behind.
Leon's eyes widened. An aghast expression appeared on his face. "N-no, no. Ah…" the half-blood fumbled for words, surprised. His muscular body trembled, after witnessing Nico's face brighten, a hopeful grin colouring it.
In a split-second, the burly half-blood decided. He stuffed the remaining food in his mouth, before standing up and bolting away with a look to Henry that said, "Wait up, don't leave me!".
Nico blinked for a moment, before a burst of laughter escaped his mouth. Clutching his stomach, the young trainee gasped for breath.
'Pfft… they actually thought I was being serious!' Nico laughed even harder remembering the shocked look on his friend's faces. Eventually, his laughter died down.
By now, most of the trainees had finished eating breakfast and were slowly making their way out of the tent. Nico shifted his gaze toward the centre table, his eyes growing several degrees colder.
'The Duels are just around the corner.'
The brown-haired boy clenched his fist. Flames of determination ignited wildly in his eyes. He recalled the promise he had made to himself back in the infirmary.
He would pay Lucas back for the humiliation he suffered.
He would get his revenge…