"One, two…"
Lythian silently counted the group.
Slowly, his fingers brushed the hilt of the dagger as his eyes darted over the figures across from them.
"...Seven."
Seven glanced at him with that same cold expression.
"I… meant there are seven of them."
Lythian exhaled quietly through his nose as he tried not to let his unease show. For him, it seemed like not a single one looked like they didn't know how to kill.
If they were to fight right now, both he and Seven wouldn't have a chance.
Seven's lips barely twitched as he turned his focus back to the group. The numbers didn't bother him. What mattered was the quality of the threat.
'Theia's Eye.'
Seven thought, and his left-eye lit up gold.
The world around him warped, shifting to match his perception. The flow of aura and mana became visible, threading through the air like faint currents.
"Two mages. Five swordsmen."
Seven murmured just loud enough for Lythian to hear.
"Hah…"
But as the words left his mouth, his breath hitched.
One swordsman radiated a presence so overwhelming that it made the air feel thicker and harder to breathe.
The aura wrapped around him like a storm.
"Fourth… aura gate."
"Fuck."
Lythian frowned.
He didn't need Seven's words to confirm it as he could feel it himself; the oppressive heat of an aura like standing too close to a raging fire.
But the others weren't any less intimidating. Three aura gates each, and the two mages—three mana rings apiece.
"We're screwed…"
Lythian tightened his grip on the dagger.
Step.
The leader of the group took a single step forward.
"Stick together."
Without hesitation, the rest of the group moved in unison, maintaining their tight formation.
"Stay alert until we regroup with the other division."
Lythian took a cautious step backward, but froze when Seven's gaze locked onto him.
They weren't facing amateurs.
The group before them were senior students from the academy
In the novel, seniors rarely ventured out on missions. Their focus was almost entirely on war simulations and high-level training.
But this is reality.
Step.
As if on cue, Seven took a step forward… right toward the group.
"Tch."
Lythian clicked his tongue, his shoulders tense as he followed closely behind.
"You're really going toward them?"
Seven didn't respond.
"Fucker, I—"
"They're not here for us."
"And if they are?"
Lythian shot him a glare, but Seven's gaze was already fixed beyond the group.
No.
More like Seven's gaze was locked onto a particular tree that felt… off.
Then, Seven smiled.
"...Then let's fudge with them."
Step.
The leader of the group glanced in their direction and signaled for his team to maintain formation.
Lythian shifted his stance.
"...This feels bad."
"Yeah."
Seven's smile grew wider.
"Bad for them."
His words weren't laced with bravado—just cold, unshakable confidence.
Step.
As the group held their formation, Seven continued to move forward, unwavering. Lythian hesitated, but still followed—though his instincts screamed at him to turn and run.
'This presence isn't even close to Eden's...'
Seven's thoughts were calm as he walked.
The aura from the leader barely registered compared to Eden's—half, maybe less. But that wasn't the whole picture.
He wasn't confident in his strength.
No.
In the first place, he didn't have a thought to fight with the seniors. Even if he and Lythian were to work together, the chance of even landing a small graze is zero.
"Hide your wrist."
Seven said as he tucked his hands inside his pocket, and Lythian also did the same thing.
The only advantage they had right now is that the academy seniors didn't have a way to assess their strength.
And… the only thing Seven was sure of was that 'he' would intervene if things went wrong.
Step.
Seven continued to walk forward.
The academy seniors didn't relax their formation, neither did they strike first.
Instead, their leader, the fourth aura gate swordsman, narrowed his eyes at both Lythian and Seven.
"Identify yourselves."
Seven didn't answer, nor his steps faltered.
Step.
Seven stopped just short of what would have been the group's attack range.
His gaze scanned the leader as the faint golden glow of Theia's Eye began to slowly disappear from his iris.
The leader gripped his sword tighter.
"I won't ask again. State your purpose here."
"Step aside. You're wasting my time."
The leader frowned.
Behind him, the two mages exchanged glances, their hands hovering near their spell focus, while the swordsmen tightened their stances.
Step.
The leader stepped forward.
"You're on Hart Duchy grounds. Explain yourselves or—"
"You explain yourselves."
Seven interrupted.
"What business do you have on our grounds?"
The leader's expression hardened at Seven's interruption. It was a slight provocation, and it worked.
"On 'our' grounds?"
The leader repeated Seven's words.
"We're here on official business. Academy orders to—"
"To eradicate all of the Harts, you traitors!"
One of the swordsmen, a younger recruit, grit his teeth and dashed forward, consumed by rage.
"Die!"
Lythian barely reacted in time, protecting Seven.
He raised his dagger to intercept the incoming sword. The blade of the sword slid against the edge of his dagger. It wasn't a perfect block, and Lythian could feel the strain on his arm.
He knew he wouldn't be able to block a second strike like that.
"..."
But Seven didn't even flinch.
And that's when Lythian realized Seven wasn't doing this empty handed. He had a plan, maybe.
Thus, he matched Seven's vibe.
"Fucker."
Lythian gripped the blade of the sword, ignoring the searing pain in his hand as blood began to spill. Without hesitation, he wrenched the sword away and threw it to the side.
The student stumbled back.
Fear.
Or more like false strength.
It was the only way to fight back against someone stronger.
"You dare lay your hands on the youngest Hart?"
But it was a bad move.
Sure, the wound would heal, but his wrist was now vulnerable, exposing his strength.
Seeing the two bracelet tattoos on Lythian's wrist, the student clenched his jaw.
"You… mere two-gates user dare to–"
"Enough."
The leader commanded, and the reckless recruit froze mid-step.
Without another glance at his subordinate, the leader turned. His measured steps carried him forward until he stopped directly in front of Seven.
The two stood face to face.
"I apologize for his rudeness, Seven Hart."
His tone was polite, almost conversational, yet it somehow felt disrespectful. Then, he smiled.
"But by the Academy's orders... I'm afraid I have to kill you."