It'd been a few hours since the last students left Kuoh Academy. The grounds had gone quiet; the festival noise already felt like a thing that happened to somebody else.
Sam slung a stall frame across his shoulder while Yura and Tomoe shouldered boxes beside him.
From the corner of his eye he saw movement at the edge of the field — Momo and Reya tracing small motions, Akeno sparking at her fingertips, Rias steady in the center with Sona at her side.
"What are they doing?" Sam asked, shifting the weight.
"Putting up a veil," Yura said, flat.
"Veil?" Sam echoed.
Tomoe grinned and stepped in with the explanation. "When devils fight in the human world, we set these. Keeps people from panicking. Keeps us from being obvious."
"…Useful," Sam said.
Through Empath he caught it: Tomoe's small flare of pride for getting to explain, and Yura's bright, buzzing anticipation — already itching for the fights to start.
Sam lowered the stall frame into place and straightened, only to pause. Something in the air shifted — not heavier, not lighter, just different, like the ground under his feet had tilted a fraction. He glanced toward Yura and Tomoe.
"That the veil?"
"Yep." Yura nodded once, blunt as ever. "Surprised you caught it the first time around."
Sam raised a brow. "Is it usually not something you can catch?"
"You've gotta be a little sensitive to notice it," Yura said, rolling her shoulder. "But it's there. Most of us feel it regardless."
Sam stepped out of the storage room. The moment he cleared the doorway, he caught it — the air outside the field looked muted, colors dulled, edges softer, like the schoolyard had been wrapped in glass.
"Yeah," he muttered. "That's pretty noticeable."
"Only from the inside," Tomoe said. "Step outside and you'll never know anything changed."
Sam huffed. "Could've used this two, maybe three times already."
The thought snagged sharp in his chest as he stared at the faint shimmer. Can I even learn something like this… or am I stuck with whatever the system decides to hand me?
Sam's eyes lingered on the shimmer a moment longer, but any further thought cut off as two voices rang out together.
"Gather up."
Rias and Sona spoke in unison, each commanding their own peerage. Both groups moved at once, disciplined enough that the order almost overlapped.
The circle formed quickly, members taking their places while the two kings stood opposite one another. Sona's tone was calm, precise; Rias's carried quiet authority.
"With fewer members in the Occult Research Club," Sona said evenly, "it only makes sense that the neutral party joins them."
Rias nodded. "Agreed. Otherwise the balance would be uneven."
The reasoning held, but the wave of emotion that followed didn't match the logic.
Disappointment settled across the Council girls like a sigh — shared, but sharpest from Tomoe herself. From Momo came something different: envy, quiet but steady, not for Sam, but for Asia, or maybe the way she was folded in so easily.
And then there was Saji. His eyes never left Sona, but he wasn't blind to the way the others carried their disappointment. Even if none of it was meant for him, it felt like being written off all the same.
On the other side, the ORC's reactions carried a different weight.
Kiba stayed calm, collected as ever. Empath didn't give Sam much to work with — steady, polite, unshaken.
Akeno, though, was another story. She caught the Student Council girls' disappointment and answered with a mock-sympathetic tilt of her head before her eyes slid back to Sam. A teasing smile curved her lips, and her voice carried just enough lilt to sting: "Looks like you're ours, after all."
Empath flared with joy, warmth, and a smug thread of superiority — a cat that caught the canary.
Koneko said nothing, just nodded once in agreement with Rias and Sona. But the emotions bleeding through her facade told the rest: a quiet possessiveness, softened by genuine happiness that Sam would stand on their side.
Rias and Sona stepped down from the small platform that had served as their stage, each moving back to their peerage with practiced ease.
Assignments came quick. Calm, efficient on Sona's side. Confident, decisive on Rias's.
"Barnes, front," Rias said simply.
Sam exhaled once, rolling his shoulders. Armor slid into place over him as he stepped forward. If he was going to play the horse, then he was going all defense.
Sam crouched down, and Rias stepped lightly onto his shoulders, settling into place with an ease that masked the oddity of the action.
Kiba and Akeno moved in smoothly at his sides, locking into the cavalry position. Sparks danced idly between Akeno's fingers as she leaned close, her eyes glinting with mischief.
"Second time you've been in this position, Sam," she teased, voice lilting as she glanced between him and Rias. "You really do attract our President."
Rias sighed softly, though the faint color at her cheeks betrayed her composure. Sam only tightened his stance, muttering under his breath, "You're enjoying this way too much."
Empath flared bright: joy, warmth, and smug superiority rolling off Akeno in waves, laced with that quiet sting of envy she never let slip past her smile.
Across the field, the Sitri formation settled just as quickly. Yura planted herself at the front without hesitation, Tomoe and Saji taking the flanks, and Sona rose smoothly above them, posture calm and commanding. Saji's scowl said enough — he'd wanted the lead, but Yura's strength made the choice obvious.
The call came sharp from both sides.
"Begin!"
Two cavalry units surged forward, the ground vibrating under eight pairs of feet.
Sam braced at the front, his white armor gleaming in the afternoon sun. Rias sat firmly on his shoulders as Kiba and Akeno locked into place at his sides, the three of them moving as one. Across the field, Yura planted herself at the head of the Sitri horse, Tomoe and Saji bracing her flanks while Sona sat poised above them, calm and commanding.
The impact cracked like thunder. Yura's devil power slammed into Sam head-on, raw strength edging him back a step. His stance wavered but held, armor grinding as it soaked the pressure. She had force, but he had durability, and neither side collapsed.
On the flanks, Tomoe shoved hard against Kiba's calm defense, sparks of steel flashing in the grind. Akeno's lightning cracked sharp, arcing toward Sitri's side. Saji snarled as he blocked, irritation rolling off him in waves. Above it all, Rias and Sona stared each other down, one radiating crimson presence, the other cool precision.
Empath sharpened the moment. Yura's fierce determination pressed into him like a tide. Tomoe's thrill shone hot, Kiba's steadiness a cold counterweight. Akeno's feelings hadn't shifted since the moment Rias perched on his shoulders — smug joy, quiet superiority, and that flick of envy humming steady beneath her smile, unchanged even by the grind of the clash. Saji burned with frustration. Rias above brimmed with pride, while Sona's intent cut like a line of ice.
Sam shifted. He couldn't out-push Yura, so he leaned on technique — low sweeps and sharp knees, testing her stance. She staggered once, but her footing recovered fast, martial training locking her balance. She grinned through the strain, pressing harder, enjoying the contest.
The grind dragged on. Sparks lit the veil, shoulders ground against shoulders, riders reaching for openings but finding none. It was a contest of stability, every heartbeat threatening collapse.
Then Saji snapped.
As Sam swept low again, Saji shifted his weight to "help," tugging against Yura's stance. The whole Sitri horse lurched. Yura stumbled, Tomoe hissed, and Sam caught the opening clean. He redirected, clipping Saji's leg and throwing the balance further off.
"Now," Rias breathed.
Sam locked his stance, holding the horse steady as she leaned forward, crimson hair flashing. In one smooth motion, she tore Sona's headband free.
The whistle cut sharp through the veil.
Round one to the ORC.
Yura's frustration came with a flicker of respect. Tomoe groaned in disappointment. Saji's irritation boiled white-hot — he knew it had been his fault. Akeno's emotions spiked brighter but stayed the same at their core — joy dominant, superiority smug, envy glinting faint beneath it all. And Rias above him radiated satisfaction, pride flowing down into Sam like warmth through his shoulders.
The formations broke apart, both sides stepping back to reset. The field buzzed faint under the veil — victory on one side, stung pride on the other. Devils on the sidelines murmured, waiting for the next call.
Sona's voice cut through the noise. "The next event will be the relay race."
Rias's eyes flicked to Sam. "Barnes, you'll—"
"Nope." He cut her off flatly. "That lightning boost from last night? Not meant for schoolyard matches. Besides, it'd be too easy."
Her eyes narrowed, but he folded his arms, unmoving.
She exhaled through her nose, then turned. "Fine. Koneko, Kiba, Asia, Akeno. You'll run."
Across the way, Sona gave her own order: "Yura, Tomoe, Momo, Tsubaki."
The track shimmered as the wards shifted, phantom hazards taking shape. Round two was set.
Sona raised a hand, a seal flashing at her fingertips, and fired. They were off.
Koneko exploded forward, compact frame tearing across the track. Yura kept pace with heavy strides, but the smaller Rook's rhythm edged her out. Koneko handed off to Kiba a step ahead.
Kiba's run was sharp, every stride cutting through illusions. Tomoe chased hot on his heels, fiery and wild, narrowing the gap but never closing it. He passed the baton still in the lead.
Asia gripped the baton and ran, holy aura bleeding from her heart into her legs. For a moment she flew, faster than she should have been, willpower driving every step. Then it snapped. Her pace collapsed halfway through the lane, the drain hollowing her out. Momo swept past effortlessly, magic clearing her path as the lead ballooned to ten strides. Asia fought for air, legs screaming, forcing herself to cut it back to eight before shoving the baton forward.
Sam was already at the edge of the track, steadying her as she stumbled aside. He knew the crash instantly — the backlash of forcing holy energy into muscle. He had done the same back in the Fallen Angel fight, and Asia had just burned herself empty the same way.
Akeno caught the baton in stride, sparks flashing as she vaulted obstacles. Tsubaki ran cool and precise, illusions slicing false turns into the lane, but Akeno pressed harder. Six strides, four, three — the finish line blurred. Tsubaki pushed just as hard, holding the gap.
Two strides.Tsubaki crossed first.
The whistle cut, signaling the end of the race.
Cheers erupted from the Sitri side, their Cavalry loss washed clean. Yura and Tomoe slapped hands, Momo's satisfaction was plain, and Tsubaki lowered the baton with calm pride.
On the ORC side, Koneko stayed stone-faced, frustration muted under her calm. Kiba nodded once, steady but tight. Asia panted hard, murmuring apologies no one blamed her for. Akeno's laugh came low and sharp, irritation curling beneath it.
Sam said nothing. If he had run, the race would have been over in seconds — Godspeed would've made it meaningless. And even without it, if he had forced holy hero energy through his body, he probably could've outrun the devils, but the crash after would have left him half-spent. Better to save himself for whatever third competition they had planned.
Rias's gaze swept her team, cool but composed. Sona's voice carried, calm and firm: "One win apiece. The final event will decide it."
As the adrenaline from the relay faded, the tension bled out of the room. The two peerages drifted into small clusters, some stretching out sore legs, others digging into leftover snacks from the day's festival or passing around half-warm bottles of water. The sharp edge of competition softened into casual chatter, a lull before the next match.
Thirty minutes passed like that, the noise never more than a low buzz. When the time came, they moved into the gymnasium, mats already spread across the polished floor with faint barriers marking out the ring. Plain, but enough.
The final activity of the day: a three-match exhibition. Best of three. Knockdown, ring-out, or concession.
Both peerages split to opposite sides of the gym, settling along the mats outside the faint barrier lines. The chatter quieted as the captains stepped forward.
Sona's gaze flicked across her peerage before she gave the call. "Momo."
The Bishop nodded once, rising to her feet and moving toward the ring. As Momo rose, Sam caught the flicker of nerves under her mask, sharpened into focus with each step she took inside.
On the other side, Rias glanced at her own group. "Koneko."
The small Rook stood, silent as ever, padding into the square with calm steps. Her steady determination pressed blunt and simple against him, unwavering as the barrier sealed the ring.
The first bout was set.
The whistle blew, and Koneko shot forward.
Momo's hands rose, a circle flashing to life. A blast of light slammed into Koneko's path, then another. She barreled through both, slowed but not stopped, skidding short of reach.
Sam caught the edge of Momo's nerves steadying into focus. Koneko burned blunt and steady, simple as iron.
On the second rush, Koneko slipped sideways through the first spell and closed fast. Momo threw up a thicker ward, and Koneko's fist cracked it, light spidering across the surface. It held.
Confidence flickered in Momo; frustration seeped into Koneko's steady push.
The third clash brought her closer still. Koneko's strike shattered through the ward, forcing Momo to throw an emergency spell point-blank. The blast shoved Koneko back a single step, nothing more.
Sam felt Momo's nerves flare hot; Koneko's stubborn determination burned harder.
Koneko charged again, weight behind her fist. The barrier split wide, but her momentum carried her too far. Momo angled a blast at the edge, catching her flank. Koneko slid across the mat and over the line.
The whistle cut.
Momo bowed quickly, relief sharp under her calm. Koneko's face stayed blank, fists tight at her sides, but her aura hummed with quiet frustration.
The first bout went to Sitri.
Koneko and Momo bowed lightly before stepping back to their sides. Momo's pride flickered bright even through her polite mask. Koneko's face stayed calm, but her aura hummed low with frustration that hadn't burned off yet. Sam caught both without effort — one high, one low.
He exhaled through his nose and pushed off the wall. "Rias. I'll go."
Her eyes lingered on him for a second, then she nodded. "Alright."
Sam stepped into the ring just as another figure came from the opposite side. Saji didn't wait for Sona or Tsubaki to say anything — he cut ahead, fists already tightening.
"I've got this guy," he snapped.
Sam tilted his head, meeting him in the middle of the square. "You've got a problem with me, don't you?"
Saji's glare sharpened. "I just don't like your face."
Sam blinked once. "...That's a new one. No one's complained about my face recently." He raised a hand, brushing his cheek like he was actually checking. "Wait. Ever, actually."
The corner of his mouth ticked as he said it.
Saji's aura boiled, irritation raw and sharp. He stepped forward, growl rising in his throat. "Just start the damn match."
The whistle blew.
Saji lunged forward, fist cocked. Sam raised his forearm, caught the punch, and shoved it off-line. The force ran up his guard but didn't move him.
The hook came quick. Sam tucked tight, let it skid across his temple, then stepped inside. His fist snapped across, knuckles cracking against cheek.
The impact was sharp, clean. Saji's head rocked, teeth clacked, and he stumbled sideways, shock plain in his eyes.
Sam dropped his hand back to guard, voice flat.
"That's payback."
He squared again, weight balanced.
"The only reason I didn't hit you sooner was because I didn't have an excuse." His jaw tightened, tone cold.
"Now I do. So bring it."
Saji growled low, then aura flared. Black-red light crawled across his arms, his shoulders suddenly heavier.
Sam felt it at once. Finally dipping in.
The devil's next punch slammed into his guard and drove him back half a step. Sam's forearms rattled with the weight, but his stance held. He answered with a shin kick into thigh, solid connection. Saji grunted but pressed on, shoulders rolling, swinging again.
Sam slipped out, jabbing for the cheek, then dug an elbow into ribs. It landed, but the devil pushed through, aura dulling what should have staggered him.
He can take them now. Doesn't mean they don't sting — just means I've got to be sharper with where I put them.
Frustration boiled raw in Saji's aura. He hurled blasts mid-rush, devil energy sparking across the mat. Sam weaved through, catching one on his guard, rolling past another. Messy, wild — strong, but unrefined.
Then came the snap. A glowing cord lashed out, fast as a whip. Instinct called it weapon. Sam braced — and plating locked down his arm in a blink, gauntlet hard from elbow to fingertips. The line coiled, tugging. The drain hit sharp, stamina bleeding hollow. He knew that feel — his own regen pulled the same way.
Lightning Claws burst from the plating, sparks ripping down the cord until it hissed and snapped away.
Saji snarled, aura burning hot. Sam let the claws fade, shifting the armor further. Plates sealed down over both legs, knees to feet, and on his opposite arm from shoulder to fingertips. He reset in stance, balanced and calm.
He pressed forward. Low kicks hammered legs, hardened plating biting muscle. Sweeps chopped at balance. Each strike landed heavier now, carrying reinforced weight behind it. Saji met him head-on, aura roaring, muscling through where lesser men would have folded.
Sam read the aura — frustration tangled with envy, pride burning raw.
The devil snapped cords again, surging wild. Sam flared Holy Hero Energy, funneling it into his arm. For a heartbeat, he braced for the familiar burn in his chest.
It didn't come. Or rather, it came one-fifth as sharp, no more than a pinch. His pool had grown. He could afford this.
The strike cracked through Saji's aura, blasting him back a step. Sam's voice was steady, flat.
"You seem to have a grudge. I usually don't care what people think about me, but something about hating me for no reason ticks me off."
He stepped in, hooked behind Saji's leg, and slammed a plated palm into his chest. The devil toppled backward, scrambling as his feet slid out.
"So fine," Sam said coldly, advancing, "let me give you a reason."
Sam didn't let up. His voice cut cold between strikes.
"Your left guard's loose." His elbow slammed into ribs, plating biting deep.
Empath pinged sharp — pride burning hotter, flaring against humiliation.
"That's one."
Saji swung wild, aura flaring. Sam slipped aside, shin snapping into thigh.
"Balance wide open. That's two."
The aura spiked again — frustration laced with envy, bleeding raw into Sam's senses.
A hook came high. Sam caught it on hardened plating, twisted, and swept his leg out from under him again.
"You lean too heavy. Three."
The empath hit sharper this time — desperation, pride cracking under the weight of being read so cleanly.
Each word was a tally, each strike a lesson. Reflexes drilled under Tiche, speed honed sharp, technique cleaner than brute force could match. Saji's aura boiled hotter with every counted flaw, but his stance unraveled under the pressure.
The devil roared and lunged one last time, cords snapping out. Sam flared Holy Hero Energy, shoulder surging bright, and blasted through. His kick buckled stance, clinch dragged him in, knee smashed hard into gut. Saji dropped, air ripping from his lungs.
He tried to rise, devil power clawing wild — only to stop cold when Lightning Claws hissed into life, plated hand at his throat.
Sam's eyes were steady, voice flat.
"And that's the last reason you needed."
The whistle cut.
Sam straightened, claws fading. Across from him, Saji's aura screamed humiliation, pride shredded raw, envy bitter and sharp. Sam only exhaled, calm, fight already behind him.
The bout went to the ORC.
Silence dropped heavy over the gym.
On the ORC's side, Rias smiled, pride warming her features, though her eyes lingered with thought. Akeno covered her mouth with a playful hand, but her gaze gleamed sharper than her smile. Koneko stood still as stone, yet the quiet weight around her said enough — approval, and a hint of possession. Kiba only nodded once, calm and precise. Asia pressed her hands together, worry etched clear across her face.
Across the way, the Student Council kept their composure. Sona's eyes narrowed, sharp as glass. Tsubaki's stance stayed formal, but surprise flickered at the edges. Momo couldn't hide it at all — her crush written plain in her eyes. Reya caught it instantly, smirk tugging at her lips even as her own respect flared brighter. Tomoe's arms crossed, her look steady, but respect weighed heavier than it should. Yura huffed softly, disappointed — she'd wanted a real brawl — but even she couldn't deny the edge Sam carried.
Saji lay on the mat, aura jagged, humiliation rolling off him. Pride shredded raw. He didn't move.
The silence stretched.
Sam exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he stepped down from the ring.
A faint flicker crossed his vision.
>Relationship Tracker Updated
He brushed it aside with the same motion he'd use to wipe sweat from his brow. Unread. Gone.
Rias moved forward, heels clicking softly on the gym floor. She cleared her throat, crimson hair falling neatly over one shoulder.
"Well then… I think it's only fitting the last match be King versus King."
Across the mat, Sona rose smoothly, Tsubaki already at her side. Together they helped Saji to his feet, guiding him off with steady hands. His eyes stayed down, jaw tight.
Sona adjusted her glasses with a calm push of her finger.
"Fine, Rias," she said, voice even. "King versus King it is."
The air tightened as the two Kings faced each other in the ring. Crimson magic crackled at Rias's fingertips, while water shimmered cold and sharp around Sona's hands.
They moved at the same time.
A sphere of Power of Destruction tore across the mat. A jet of water surged to meet it. The two blasts collided mid-air, detonating in a burst of steam and sparks.
Before the haze cleared, Sona was already moving. Water magic gathered at her palm and shot for Rias's left flank.
Rias slid right—only to slam against an invisible barrier. Her eyes narrowed, teeth grit, and she threw another orb of destruction. The crimson blast chewed through the incoming water, exploding it into spray.
Sona pressed forward, conjuring a second blast. Rias reacted too late, forced to throw up an emergency barrier. The wave hit, the shield shattered, but it gave her just enough time to slip free toward the open side of the mat.
Rias countered at once. Another orb screamed across the ring, hammering into Sona's barrier. The shield disintegrated instantly, the raw destructive energy eating it alive. Sona jerked back, water magic already curling at her fingertips again.
Rias didn't let her breathe. She snapped her hand out, three smaller crimson spheres forming in quick succession.
One.
Two.
Three.
Each shot flew with perfect rhythm, one second apart, then three, then five.
Sona gritted her teeth, raising barriers one after another. The first cracked but held. The second buckled and dissolved. The third shattered outright, the backlash sending her stumbling a step.
By then Rias was already moving. Wings spread wide, she slipped to the side, building another orb of destruction. Sona scrambled, another barrier flaring to life—too late. The blast tore straight through, forcing her to counter with a hasty water jet. At the same time she thrust out her free hand, loosing a smaller shot to pin Rias down.
But Rias's wings snapped once, and she soared over the attack, clearing it in a single leap. She came down at Sona's flank, magic already pooling beside her.
A crimson circle bloomed at Sona's side, humming with destructive power.
Rias's voice cut sharp through the veil.
"Checkmate."
The blast roared point-blank. Sona threw up one last shield—only for it to buckle and vanish. Water magic scattered in the heat of crimson power, the impact slamming across the mat.
The whistle cut the air.
The match was over.
With the final match over, the weight in the air eased.
Student Council girls drifted across to the ORC side, trading light congratulations despite the loss. Rias accepted them with grace, Akeno with her usual teasing smile, and even Koneko gave a small nod.
The only one who stayed silent was Saji, jaw tight as Tsubaki quietly steered him toward the exit.
Sam bent down and hooked his hands under one of the mats. He had just started to lift it off the floor when a voice cut across the gym.
"Hey."
When he looked up,Yura stood there, hands planted on her hips, grin sharp.
"Alright. Now me. You and me—spar."
Sam blinked at her, then let out a small breath through his nose. "Figured you'd say that."
Her eyes gleamed. "You've been putting it off long enough."
He glanced toward the ring, then back at her. The grin on her face said she'd been waiting for this moment—ever since that Monday spar fell through. Nearly two weeks of pestering, capped off with yesterday's not-so-subtle reminders.
As Sam stood up from his bent position, he drew in a steady breath and slowly let it out.
"Fine. Let's do this."
The buzz of conversation dulled as they stepped onto the mat.
This time, there was no edge, no grudge. Just Yura's bright excitement—and Sam's calm answer to it.