Croy stared at the identification card in his hand as though it had personally insulted him. And in a way, it had.
He rubbed his eyes, squinted at the numbers again, and prayed for a miracle. But nothing changed. No mistake. No misunderstanding.
Seven... tythree
Princess Kadutor had left a while ago, but not before giving him a look that was suspiciously close to a suppressed smile.
Oh, and of course, she had received a single-digit rank - Number Seven. If that wasn't preferential treatment of the nobility, then what was?
"Great," Croy muttered, letting the card drop onto the nightstand with a defeated sigh.
He hadn't really expected to make the top ten… well, maybe he had hoped. But given his cautious approach during the competition and the sheer talent of the other students at the academy, he knew it would've been tough to place that high.
Still, Number 73? Really? That was… disappointing.
He fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
"At least we survived until the end," he mumbled to himself. They had captured eight terminals. Taken out multiple teams. Even outmaneuvered Princess Lyn herself.
He frowned.
How the hell did Professor Tass even score that competition?
The thought lingered. Had he set his expectations too high? But he was a former soldier! A war veteran, at only sixteen years of age! He had lived through hell and come out stronger. And now he was supposed to believe there were 72 students better than him in this years class?
He groaned, rubbing his temples.
"Ah, whatever… the rank doesn't matter anyway."
That was a blatant lie.
To distract himself from the bitter truth, he grabbed his smartwatch and began scrolling through his contacts. His finger hovered over a name, and with a deep breath, he tapped to call. The faint buzzing of the connection filled the room until a familiar voice picked up on the other end.
"Croy?"
Ben's voice was tinged with excitement.
"Hey, Ben," Croy said, forcing a smile that no one could see.
"Sorry for calling so late."
"No problem! I couldn't sleep anyway," Ben replied with a light laugh. "How are you doing?"
"Not bad. And you? How's Portis?"
Croy could practically hear the grin on Ben's face.
"We're great! Especially after getting such a high rank - thanks to you!"
Croy raised an eyebrow, muttering under his breath, "High rank, huh?"
He chuckled quietly. The seventies aren't exactly high, he thought, but he didn't have the heart to burst Ben's bubble.
"I'm glad for you guys," he said warmly.
"You fought well," Ben continued enthusiastically.
"Portis told me you even took down Princess Lyn!"
Croy scratched the back of his neck, unsure how to respond.
"Well… that was more… strategic than anything."
"Strategic? Portis said she was played like a violin and you were the bow!"
Ben burst out laughing.
"He said he's never seen her so furious before. Well, as far as you can consider the Imperial Princess 'furious'. Man, you really showed her!"
Croy groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
"Oh god… poor Fredrik."
"Fredrik? What about him?" Ben asked, his confusion evident.
"Uh, nothing. Forget it," Croy said quickly, steering the conversation back on track.
After a brief pause, he gathered his thoughts and finally spoke.
"Ben, I need to ask you something."
"Is it about the rune I placed in the archive?"
Croy nodded instinctively before realizing Ben couldn't see him.
"Yeah, partly. What happened with it?"
Ben sighed on the other end.
"That's what I wanted to tell you. The rune was neutralized. After the competition, I went back to check because I lost the connection. At first, I thought it was just because I'd been eliminated, but when I got there, the rune was gone - like it had been erased."
"Damn it," Croy muttered, rubbing his chin.
"What about the door? Anything unusual?"
"Not that I could tell. It was just locked."
Croy frowned. That didn't sit right. Hisama must have found a way to bypass both the runes and the door's defenses. Maybe he'd used some advanced spells or technology. Whatever the case, Hisama hadn't been in the archive for some mundane document, that much was clear.
"Thanks, Ben," Croy said after a moment.
"I have another favor to ask."
"Of course. What do you need?"
"Could you take a look at my smartwatch this weekend? Specifically, the runes on it."
Ben sounded surprised.
"Your smartwatch? Sure, but why?"
"I'll explain when we meet. Thanks again. Oh, and don't worry - I haven't forgotten about the pizza I owe you."
Ben laughed.
"I'm counting on it!"
"Good night, Ben."
"Good night, Croy!"
Croy ended the call and let the smartwatch fall to his side. His thoughts swirled with the puzzle pieces of Hisama, the strange events during the competition, and the unsettling truths they hinted at. Nothing made sense yet, but one thing was clear:
This was far from over.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. Tomorrow, he'd start looking for answers. Tonight, he just needed to sleep.
***
The next morning, Croy was discharged from the infirmary. A healer had restored him to full health with a spell, explaining that his only issues were exhaustion and muscle soreness.
'Exhaustion and muscle soreness?' Croy thought as he pulled on his clothes.
That didn't make sense. He distinctly remembered suffering far worse injuries - most notably, he'd been killed in the parking garage. At least, he should have been. But he kept that to himself. No one else seemed to question it, so he didn't see the need to draw attention.
What he would tell the Professor and the others he didn't quite know yet.
The weekend had arrived, and although he craved rest, he knew the next two days would be far from peaceful.
First, there was Ben. Croy needed to figure out why his smartwatch's automatic barrier hadn't activated during Hisama's attack. That couldn't have been a coincidence. The smartwatch was supposed to protect him, and its failure was either a fluke or something much more sinister.
Then there was Spider. It was time to reach out and ask for information about Hisama. Who was he? What did he want? And most importantly, who was he working with? Croy also needed to speak with Professor Aerav to piece together Hisama's possible motives.
And then there was Princess Kadutor. Their conversation wasn't finished, not by a long shot. Croy knew he owed her explanations - and she probably had more questions than he could answer.
And, of course, there were the elective courses. Life at the academy would march on, with or without the looming threat of Hisama.
But for now, something simpler demanded Croy's attention. He sat on his bed, head resting in his hand, trying to reassure a very anxious Fredrik.
"For the last time, the outfit looks fine," Croy said with exaggerated patience.
Fredrik pulled at his collar, his face a mask of doubt.
"What do you know about fashion? You were a soldier!"
Croy raised an eyebrow.
"Then why are you asking me for advice in the first place?"
Fredrik threw himself into the desk chair dramatically.
"I don't know.! You're good with people? And… you're my friend."
Croy rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh. Here he was, juggling mysteries and threats, yet somehow roped into helping Fredrik prepare for his date with Princess Lyn. Life at the academy was nothing if not unpredictable.
The very same Princess he had bested just hours ago in the competition. Would she still be thinking about it?
Fredrik had shown up at his door early in the morning, long before Croy had even made it back from the infirmary. And as nervous as Fredrik was, he hadn't asked a single question about what had happened during the competition. His entire focus was on the date.
"Do you think she'll even show up?" Fredrik asked suddenly, tugging anxiously at the collar of his shirt.
"For heaven's sake, Fredrik, of course she'll show up," Croy replied firmly.
After all, she was the Imperial Princess. There was no way she'd just blow off a date. It simply wouldn't fit her character. Probably.
"You have a plan, don't you? Come on, go over it again. Maybe it'll make you feel better."
Fredrik took a deep breath, stood up to pace the room and started listing the carefully crafted steps of his plan.
"Okay… I meet her at 11 a.m. at the academy gates. Then we go by my place to pick up my dog - after that, we head to the dog park for a nice, relaxing walk… and then… uh…"
"The ducks," Croy offered dryly.
"Right! The ducks! We'll feed the ducks!" Fredrik's eyes lit up for a moment.
"And then?" Croy asked, watching him with amused curiosity.
"After that, I take the dog back home, and we go to a café."
Croy clapped his hands together and grinned.
"Perfect! And what happens after that?"
Fredrik furrowed his brow.
"Uh… I haven't really thought that far ahead."
"That's fine," Croy said, leaning back casually.
"When you get to that point, just play it by ear. See how things go."
Even as he said it, Croy couldn't help but think about how little experience he had with dates himself. Romance, girls - it was all foreign territory. Why on earth was Fredrik asking him for advice?
Still, he was trying to help. He figured if he ever had a date of his own someday, he might need his friend's advice in return.
Fredrik nodded slowly, but the doubt hadn't entirely left his expression.
"What if she finds it boring? Or if I… I don't know… do something embarrassing?"
"Then you give up and cry in my arms," Croy replied dryly, leaning back with a smirk.
Fredrik stopped in his tracks and gave him a disbelieving look.
"What kind of advice is that?!"
"I don't know! Then cry in her arms, I guess!"
"No way, that'd be even more embarrassing!" Fredrik shot back, crossing his arms like a child about to throw a tantrum.
The two stared at each other in silence for a moment before bursting into laughter. The tension that had clung to Fredrik's every move began to melt away, leaving him a little more relaxed.
"It'll be fine," Croy said eventually, unable to keep a grin off his face.
"Just the fact that she agreed to go on a date with you speaks volumes about your luck. You'll need a little more of it, but I'm sure you've got it in you."
Fredrik raised an eyebrow and grinned.
"You mean it speaks to my irresistible charm?"
Croy raised a fist and declared loudly:
"Fredrik the Mighty!"
Fredrik chuckled and bumped his fist against Croy's.
"And his loyal servant, Croy the Great!"
The two of them burst out laughing again. After a few moments, Croy nodded toward the door.
"Alright, go on. Listen, if you can make her laugh even half as much as you've made me laugh, she'll like you. The more time she spends laughing, the less she'll notice how awkward you are. Basic math."
Fredrik crossed his arms once again.
"But you're terrible at math."
"Just like you," Croy shot back with a grin.
"Now get out of here - I've got stuff to do."
Fredrik raised an eyebrow but finally relented. The two bumped fists one last time before Fredrik headed toward the door. But just as he was about to leave, Croy stopped him.
"Fredrik," Croy said hesitantly.
Fredrik turned back with a curious look.
"Yeah?"
Croy scratched the back of his head, searching for the right words.
"Uh… maybe just don't mention me. You know, during the date."
Fredrik frowned.
"Why would I even mention you?"
Croy raised his hands defensively.
"Just… precaution, you know?"
Fredrik shrugged, still looking confused, and left the room.
"Good luck, Fredrik the Mighty," Croy murmured to himself as the door clicked shut behind his friend. He collapsed back onto his bed with a long exhale, staring at the ceiling.
Another problem dealt with.