Arakh sat in the cafeteria, a tray of food in front of him. The bustling noise of students filled the room, but it felt distant to him, almost muffled. His seat, strategically chosen in the far corner, was conspicuously isolated. He took slow, deliberate bites, not sparing a glance at the occasional whispers and sideways stares from his peers. His name seemed to float in the air, carried on a wave of murmurs and speculation.
"That's the guy who floored Pakha," someone muttered just loud enough for Arakh to hear.
"Yeah, but did you see Lorelai stop him? She moved like lightning."
"Still, he totally crushed him. Where did a village boy learn to fight like that?"
Arakh didn't react, his expression neutral as he poked at the meal with his fork. His thoughts were elsewhere, replaying the events at the training ground. He could still feel the rush of the fight, the weight of the glaive in his hands, and the resounding impact of his strike. Yet, instead of triumph, there was a gnawing unease in his chest.
"I just made it harder to make friends," he thought wryly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he speared a piece of food on his fork.
---
Meanwhile, in the instructor's hall, the atmosphere was far from quiet.
Lorelai sat at a round table surrounded by her peers, her expression calm but her mind sharp. Across from her, an older instructor with a graying beard and a stern demeanor slammed his hand on the polished wood.
"This is unacceptable! Pakha is injured and he is wailing, his parents will cook us to a boil!" he barked.
"It's his first day and already he is making a mess," a younger instructor with a slick back shook his head.
"I'll admit," Lorelai interjected, her tone measured, "his technique was... unorthodox. But I stand by my decision to let the fight proceed."
"Stand by it?" the older instructor exclaimed, his voice rising. "You're lucky Pakha wasn't gravely injured—or worse!"
Lorelai's gaze sharpened. "Pakha initiated the fight, and Arakh acted within the rules. Or do we now coddle the students of Elabra simply because their parents have wealth?"
A hush fell over the room. The older instructor opened his mouth to retort but closed it again, his face reddening.
"That's right, you think I didn't know that his parents paid you to take good care of him? Or perhaps you are not the only one?" Lorelai crossed her arms.
"That's right," Lorelai said, her voice calm but laced with an edge that cut through the tense air. She stood, her arms crossing as she looked each instructor in the eye. "You think I didn't know that his parents paid you to take good care of him? Or perhaps..." She leaned forward slightly, her sharp gaze sweeping across the table. "...you're not the only one who's been compromised?"
The room fell into a stunned silence, broken only by the faint creak of chairs as a few instructors shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
The older instructor's face turned a deep shade of crimson, his stern demeanor faltering as he spluttered. "W-What are you insinuating, Lorelai?!" His voice was indignant, but the slight crack betrayed his unease.
Another instructor, a plump man with thinning hair, looked away, his cheeks flushed and glistening with sweat. He fiddled nervously with the hem of his robe, avoiding eye contact as if Lorelai's gaze might burn him alive.
The younger instructor with slicked-back hair tried to maintain a smug expression, but his composure cracked under Lorelai's relentless scrutiny. His jaw tightened, and his fingers drummed nervously on the table, though he didn't dare speak.
The female instructor with piercing eyes narrowed them further, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her face betrayed no emotion, but a faint pink tinged her cheeks.
Lorelai let the silence linger, letting their discomfort deepen. The older instructor finally slammed his palm on the table again, though this time the gesture lacked its earlier conviction.
"This is outrageous!" he barked, though his voice had lost much of its earlier fire. "You have no proof of such baseless accusations!"
Lorelai tilted her head, her lips curling into a faint, knowing smile. "Proof?" she repeated. "Do you think I need proof to see through your little schemes? Pakha's arrogance didn't appear overnight—it was nurtured. And why wouldn't it be? When someone believes they're untouchable, they stop trying to improve."
Her words hung in the air like a blade poised to strike.
"I'm not here to coddle students," she continued, her tone firm and resolute. "I'm here to teach them how to survive. If that means your 'investment' feels a little pain along the way, so be it. Or do you believe the world will treat them better just because of their family's coin?"
The older instructor's face darkened further, his hands balling into fists on the table. "You're overstepping your bounds, Lorelai!"
"No," Lorelai countered, her voice steady as steel. "I'm fulfilling my duty as an instructor of this academy. Can the same be said for all of you?"
The plump instructor wiped his brow nervously, his lips quivering as though he wanted to speak but couldn't summon the courage.
The female instructor finally broke the silence. "Lorelai," she said coolly, her voice sharp but restrained. "Accusing your peers of corruption is a serious matter. Be careful not to overreach."
Lorelai turned her gaze to the woman, her eyes like ice. "I'm not accusing. I'm stating the obvious."
The woman's jaw tightened, her expression betraying a flicker of irritation, but she said nothing more.
The room was suffocatingly quiet now, save for the faint sounds of students echoing from the hallways beyond. Lorelai straightened, her arms still crossed, and took a deliberate step back.
"If any of you have a problem with how I handle my students, feel free to take it up with the headmaster," she said. "or worse, me!" her eyes flashed and a gust of wind fluttered their cloaks and hairs. Her hands crossed, receiving all glares with a smirk on her own.
"If any of you have a problem with how I handle my students, feel free to take it up with the headmaster," Lorelai said, her voice calm but laced with a sharp edge. She paused, then added with a smirk, "Or worse... me."
Her eyes flashed with a dangerous glint, a subtle yet unmistakable surge of power radiating from her. A gust of wind swept through the room, rattling papers and causing the instructors' cloaks and hair to flutter wildly. The sudden display of strength was enough to make even the bolder among them falter.
Lorelai stood with her arms crossed, her stance radiating confidence and defiance. Her smirk deepened as she caught each of their glares, meeting them head-on without flinching. The older instructor clenched his fists tighter, but the gust seemed to sap his earlier fire.
"Careful now," Lorelai said, her tone dripping with mock concern. "Wouldn't want any of you catching a chill."
Her words landed with the weight of an unspoken challenge, hanging in the charged air of the room. One by one, the instructors averted their gazes, either out of guilt or a calculated decision not to provoke her further.
The plump instructor tugged nervously at his collar, muttering something under his breath. The younger one, who had been drumming his fingers moments earlier, now sat frozen, his hand still hovering over the table. The female instructor, though her expression remained sharp, tightened her lips into a thin line. She clearly weighed her response but ultimately chose silence.
Lorelai's smirk softened into something almost playful, though her gaze remained sharp as a blade. "Now then," she said, breaking the tension, "if there's nothing else, I believe this meeting is over."
Without waiting for a response, she pivoted sharply and strode toward the door. The gust of wind seemed to follow her, the air swirling as though bowing to her will. As she reached the exit, she paused, looking over her shoulder.
"And for the record," she added, her tone light but cutting, "I don't need payment to do what's right. Maybe you should all try it sometime."
With that, she walked out, leaving the instructors in a whirlwind of shame and silent fury. The room remained eerily quiet, save for the soft rustle of papers still settling from her dramatic exit.
---
Arakh wandered through the hall, wiping his lips with a tissue from his meal. He spotted a trash bin a few steps ahead and casually tossed the crumpled tissue inside. His sharp ears twitched as faint footsteps reached him, growing louder by the second. One, two… no, three, he noted inwardly.
He turned around just as the sound reached its peak, and his gaze landed on three figures approaching him. They were taller than him, clearly seniors, their uniforms adorned with two embroidered stripes. Arakh's eyes narrowed slightly. Novice Resonators, huh? he thought.
"Yo," the one in the middle called out, pausing a few feet away. He stood with his chin slightly raised, exuding an air of arrogance. His companions flanked him—a slimmer boy on his right and a broader, stockier one on his left. The leader smirked as he crossed his arms.
"I heard something bad happened to Pakha," he said, his tone laced with faux concern.
Arakh tilted his head slightly, unfazed. "Not really," he replied with a small shrug. "Just a growing experience."
The slim boy scoffed, taking a step closer. "You better watch it, kid," he said, his voice sharp like a blade drawn from its sheath.
"Yeah," the fatter one chimed in, his voice deeper but no less mocking. "A lesson's coming your way. Gotta teach you about life."
Arakh raised an eyebrow, his expression calm but curious. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"You'll know soon enough," the leader said, his smirk widening. With that, he and his lackeys stepped past Arakh, their shoulders brushing uncomfortably close.
Arakh turned his head slightly, watching them as they walked off. He felt their eyes flick back to him momentarily, no doubt gauging his reaction, but he offered none. His stance remained relaxed, his face unreadable.
A lesson about life? Arakh thought to himself, lips curling ever so slightly into an amused smirk. How interesting.
He straightened his posture and resumed his walk down the hall. Whatever they had planned, he figured he would handle it when the time came—like he always did.