The moment with Inera and Fredrik had touched Croy, and for a brief instant, he felt like he had found some real friends. But reality quickly caught up with him: if he didn't find another mana dachshund soon, he could lose these new friends just as quickly as he had found them.
The fire of determination flared up within him - he wouldn't get expelled from the Academy on the first day.
He wouldn't allow this experience to end with him feeling like a killer.
Spider was right. He still had much to learn. And this was only his first lesson at the Academy.
So he and Fredrik continued to race through the Academy, this time with a noticeably heightened urgency in their steps. Earlier, they had strolled through the wide corridors and lofty halls, fascinated by the majestic columns and futuristic light sources that bathed the Academy in a dazzling glow.
Now, however, they cast little more than fleeting glances at the ornate walls and passing figures.
More and more, they encountered students with beaming faces and palpable relief heading back toward the main building. Apparently, they had already passed the test - and the number of jubilant and relieved students Croy saw in the crowd led him to only one conclusion: there were hardly any unpetted ghost dogs left.
He couldn't afford to fail on the first day.
'Bunny and Sandman would never let me hear the end of it,' Croy thought with a wry smile.
They would mock his failure with their relentless humor until even the sun shamefully left the horizon. But that was not an option.
Fortunately, they didn't have to search entirely blindly this time. Before they had parted ways, Inera had told Croy that there was another dachshund near the main building - hidden behind a hedge where the building met a small garden.
Inera was evidently skilled enough with sensor spells to detect such details. That's how she had found the ghost dog in the restroom.
For some reason, Croy felt she was telling the truth.
"Dude," Fredrik panted from behind, gasping for air, "how can you run for so long?"
Croy cast him a brief glance but said nothing as he continued ahead with practiced strides. The military had been strict, relentlessly training the soldiers' endurance and strength.
Long marches and quick sprints over rough terrain, sometimes for days and nights - compared to that, this sprint through the Academy grounds was little more than a short walk.
"We should be there soon!" he called back to Fredrik, receiving only an exhausted grunt in response.
They took one last turn and found themselves in a passageway that connected the main building to a small garden. Here, Croy slowed his steps and lifted his gaze to examine the area more closely.
He no longer had the Pathfinder spell activated, but he didn't need it anymore - in the distance, hidden behind a small berry bush, a tiny blue dachshund tail protruded.
"Found it!" Croy whispered triumphantly and was about to step toward the bushes when another person entered the garden, this time from the opposite entrance.
Croy suppressed an annoyed curse and stood stock-still.
It was a boy in an imposing suit, tall and broad-shouldered, with the emblem of House Jradan emblazoned on his shoulders.
The young lord looked at Croy, appearing utterly unfazed, almost bored.
It was the same neutral, almost absent expression Croy had seen during the opening ceremony.
And, of course, that chiseled, striking jawline.
Their gazes met, and at that moment, Fredrik arrived, breathing heavily and coming to a panting halt. He lifted his head, followed Croy's gaze, and his complexion shifted abruptly from exhausted to pale.
"You've got to be kidding me," Fredrik murmured in dismay, barely audible.
The young Lord Jradan regarded them both, his eyes flicking for just a split second to the little ghost dog whose tail still cheerfully peeked out from the bushes, before focusing entirely back on Croy.
For a moment, they sized each other up without saying a word.
"Do you think he's after the dachshund too?" Fredrik asked.
"No," Croy replied dryly. "I'm sure he's just here to admire the garden."
Several tense moments passed in strained silence before the future Lord Jradan stepped forward. Fredrik swallowed audibly and placed a sweaty hand on Croy's shoulder.
"Well, that's it then, bro. I'll miss you."
Croy glared at him angrily and shrugged off his hand.
"Who says I'm going to lose?"
"Listen," Fredrik began, pointing with a trembling finger at the young lord, who stood with impressive, upright posture in the middle of the garden.
"That's the heir of House Jradan. I know you're a former soldier, but you've got no chance against him! This guy is definitely one of the strongest students here!"
Croy felt the cool gaze of the young lord resting on him, and yes - he had to admit that Fredrik might not be entirely wrong. The young Lord Jradan had the aura of a born fighter and an unmistakable authority that seemed to influence his surroundings.
But that didn't matter. He had fought against worse opponents - even if never alone, always as part of a team.
Still...
"Lord Jradan."
Croy exhaled calmly, trying to sound as steady as possible.
"My name is Croy Belmont."
The young Lord Jradan raised his eyebrows slightly, scrutinizing him.
"What do you want, Belmont?"
'Oh, not even a 'Mr.'? Damn, what an arrogant guy! You're more chin than man!' Croy thought, tensing slightly.
"The same as you. To pet that dog over there."
"You can pet him if he doesn't disappear after me," Jradan replied coolly.
A nervous smile flickered across Croy's lips.
"That sounds great! See, Fredrik, you can even reason with him. Except..."
At that moment, the dachshund suddenly jumped up and wagged his tail. All three of their gazes simultaneously fixed on the mana dachshund.
A feeling of unease crept over Croy. The dachshund wore a collar - it was the same ghost dog that Professor Burton had summoned. Which meant there was a problem.
"Uh, Lord Jradan," Croy began cautiously, putting on his most convincing smile.
The young lord narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze becoming slits.
"Would you mind letting me go first? You're surely a kind-hearted person. Since no one else has been here yet, we could both pass the test."
Lord Jradan eyed him suspiciously, then a smile appeared on his face that sent a cold shiver down Croy's spine.
"Nice try. But the professor has already petted the dachshund once. He'll disappear after the next time."
Croy felt a bead of sweat form on his forehead, but he forced himself to maintain the smile.
"So you were really paying attention. What a shame."
He assumed a combat stance - no spells, just the old, solid hand-to-hand combat position he had trained in the military.
Lord Jradan's expression briefly shifted before turning into a mixture of respect and amusement.
"You really want to do this?" he asked.
Croy grinned, clenching his fists.
"I've just made a few friends, and I'm not giving up on the first day."
Their gazes locked in an unmistakable stare-down, and then Lord Jradan also assumed a combat stance.
Croy kept his eyes on his opponent, his own muscles tense as he mentally assessed the enemy.
He felt calm now. Combat was no stranger to him but an old friend.
But one thought remained: he couldn't use military spells - not after what had nearly happened with Inera. The terror of how easily he could have killed a classmate - an innocent - still lingered. He couldn't risk it happening again.
He studied Jradan. The young lord stood calmly and focused, his eyes hard without the slightest hint of uncertainty. The emblem on his shoulder was more than just a status symbol - Croy recognized the precise stance of a martial artist, someone as skilled in close combat as in spellcasting.
'An opponent like him,' Croy thought, 'would never hesitate. Jradan has the strength, the composure, and undoubtedly some of the most advanced spells at his disposal. Maybe even spells I don't know. No, definitely.'
Slowly, reality surfaced in his thoughts. Without his strongest military spells... he could hardly imagine how to defeat this opponent.
The advantage was clearly with Jradan.
Neither of them moved first. A smile crept onto Croy's face. Apparently, the atmosphere had even affected the young lord, for he too smiled.
'So that's what Professor Burton meant.'
That feeling of competition. Of wanting to win. It was different than just besting your opponent, different than stalking down the rebels and ambushing them.
It was to take every bit of strength out of you, to show your opponent your strongest and best side in order to crush him.
It was intoxicating.
Then he wouldn't lose. He took a step forward.
And the loud sound of a gong echoed. Croy halted. The young Lord Jradan's eyes widened. In the next moment, the ghost dog barked and dissolved into a shimmering waterfall of blue mana.
The lesson was over.
***
Croy sat with slumped shoulders in the lecture hall, staring blankly ahead. Fredrik beside him also seemed at a loss for words.
Croy couldn't blame him - they had only known each other for a few hours; grand words of comfort wouldn't help.
Letting himself sink into the chair, Croy replayed the whole thing in his mind. He had messed up on the very first day. The flame of determination that had flared up in him after the Emperor's speech - long live the Emperor - was now nothing more than a sad spark.
'Maybe it's better this way,' he thought bitterly.
What was a killer who had almost accidentally killed his classmate even doing at an academy full of promising talents?
The thought gnawed at him. And not just him. The young Lord Jradan, who had stood so proudly in the garden moments ago, had been left standing like a statue after the ghost dog vanished, staring in dismay at the empty spot where the dachshund had been.
Croy and Fredrik had left him silently, but now the young heir sat here in the lecture hall like all the other students. And while most students chatted relievedly or sat smiling, everyone conspicuously kept their distance from the silent, grim-looking lord.
Everyone except Croy. He felt a bit bad. He had Bunny and Sandman, who would surely roast him for his stupidity on the first day but would also support him without hesitation.
But how would Jradan fare? The young heir with so many expectations on his shoulders - how much weight did he have to bear?
Croy suddenly felt Jradan's gaze on him, hard and inscrutable.
'He's not angry with me, is he?'
But when their eyes met, the young lord nodded to him before stoically looking forward again. Croy frowned. Had he meant him? What did that nod signify? Was it an acknowledgment or a promise to definitely kill him later?
Or was he just showing off his damn jawline?
Croy suppressed a sigh.
'What is it with these aristocrats and their hints?'
Just then, Professor Burton re-entered the hall, a satisfied grin on his face. He cast a fleeting glance at Croy and shrugged innocently, the grin unwavering.
Croy gritted his teeth.
The professor stood before the students.
"Well, how did you like the little test? I hope it went well for everyone."
'How ridiculous,' Croy thought grimly.
'How could it have gone well for everyone?'
But in the next moment, he realized he was just taking out his frustration on the professor. It had been his own failure, not the professor's. He felt ashamed and sighed.
Yet somehow, he also sensed that these few hours at the Academy had changed him. After three years at war, these few hours seemed almost more significant to him.
"Congratulations to all who passed!"
The professor nodded and made a sweeping gesture.
"You can sleep in your rooms tonight."
"What?"
Croy blurted out involuntarily.
Professor Burton laughed heartily.
"For the others: well, I said you'd be expelled - but I meant not from the Academy, just from the dormitory for tonight. Unfortunately, I'm not even allowed to expel students on the first day."
Croy felt his blood boil.
'Are you serious, you old geezer! I was having a profound moment of peace! Kick me out already!'