The arena buzzed with noise. Whispers, laughter, and shock rippled through the students as Eryndor picked himself up from the sand, his pride shattered more than his stance. His face twisted, red with fury.
"You—" he spat, pointing a trembling finger at Kuro. "You think this proves anything? You're still just filth. A mistake walking around like he belongs here."
A few students chuckled at the insult, though others glanced uneasily between him and Kuro, the air heavy with tension.
[Pathetic. He lost, and now he's whining like a spoiled b**** who dropped his toy. 'Mistake walking around'—please. He's projecting so hard it's almost funny.]
Kuro's grip tightened on his sword, but he didn't answer. He wanted to—gods, he wanted to—but Mika's presence at the edge of the arena kept him grounded.
Lucien, however, stepped forward before Mika could.
He moved with the easy grace of someone who knew all eyes were on him. His hazelnut hair caught the light, and his sharp jawline looked carved from marble. But it was his piercing blue eyes that silenced the arena, eyes like polished sapphires locked onto Eryndor with quiet disdain.
"That's enough," Lucien said coolly. "You lost. To keep talking down after that only proves who the real fool is."
Eryndor's face paled. "You—"
"What? You'll try to fight me too?" Lucien tilted his head, a dangerous smile tugging at his lips. "Then lose twice in one day? You wouldn't recover from that."
The students erupted in laughter, this time at Eryndor's expense.
Kuro blinked, surprised, then offered the faintest smile. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice carrying more weight than he realized.
Lucien's eyes flicked to him. For a moment, the grin softened into something warmer. "You held your own. Don't let trash like him define your worth."
Kuro's chest tightened at the words, but before he could respond, he felt it—a sharp, cold stare. Turning slightly, he caught Mika watching. His expression was unreadable, but the faint clench of his jaw and the way his hands curled at his sides told another story.
{Is Mika… mad?}
[Mad? No. Jealous as h***, though. Look at him. If Lucien smiles at you one more time, he might actually snap that pretty boy jaw.]
{Elvastia… don't say things like that.}
[What? I'm not wrong. You really can't see it, can you? That cold bastard's only warm to you. Everyone else gets ice. Lucien? He's about to get a f***ing blizzard.]
Kuro's eyes lingered on Mika for a moment longer, but the boy turned away just as quickly, walking toward the exit of the arena without a word.
The instructor dismissed the class, still shaking his head at the spectacle, and the students began filing out. Eryndor stormed off, humiliated, while Lucien gave Kuro one last encouraging nod before heading in the opposite direction.
Kuro hesitated, then hurried after Mika.
"Mika, wait!"
The tall boy didn't stop immediately, his steps echoing down the corridor, but eventually he slowed.
"You fought well," Mika said at last, his voice calm, almost too calm. "But don't thank Lucien for stepping in. You didn't need him."
Kuro blinked. "I… didn't want to make things worse. He was just—"
"Unnecessary." Mika's pale eyes finally turned to him, sharper than blades, but there was something beneath it—something warm, almost protective. "Next time, let me deal with idiots like Eryndor."
[Well, f*** me. He's not even hiding it now. He wants all the credit, all the spotlight. Honestly? Can't blame him.]
Kuro smiled softly despite himself. "Alright. Next time, I'll leave it to you."
For the first time since the duel, Mika's shoulders seemed to relax.