You could hear a pin drop in the training ground.
No one spoke. No one even breathed too loudly.
Instructor Blade had lost.
Isaac and his team had won.
The realization rippled through the students like lightning. Then, chaos. Some clapped. Others cheered. A few just stared, still trying to process what they'd seen.
Blade, however, stayed silent. He stood slowly, brushed the dust from his clothes, and walked toward Isaac.
His eyes flicked to his waist where Ren and Trish had grabbed him — nothing out of place. Then, just slightly lower, he spotted it.
One of his bootlaces was untied.
He frowned, then glanced toward the sunlight pouring in through the window, piecing things together.
When he spoke, his voice was calm. "Good teamwork." His eyes landed on Arnold. "I knew you had a good head on your shoulders."
Arnold turned away, cheeks red. "It… wasn't my idea."
That made Blade pause. He looked to the girls next. Both shook their heads.
Finally, his gaze fell on Isaac. "Was it you?" he asked, a note of hostility in his tone.
Blade could accept being outsmarted by someone like Arnold or one of the girls — they had the potential to be dangerous. But Isaac? Just a normal-looking, supposedly weak kid? If word got out that Blade had been humiliated by someone like that, it would burn.
Isaac met his gaze with a smile that only made things worse. "Oh, yes, sir. My idea. I hope you don't mind the… foul play. I am, after all, just a weak kid. Had to work hard to entertain you."
His voice dripped with mockery.
Blade's face darkened, a flash of red in his cheeks before he barked, "Next team. Now."
Isaac and his team stepped back to let the next group take their place.
"I feel sorry for them," Isaac murmured.
"I just hope he doesn't go too hard on them," he added with a small, almost innocent smile.
Arnold shivered. "Isaac… has anyone ever told you that you have a… unique smile?"
Isaac took it as a compliment and turned his attention back to the ring. Blade was already throwing around a kid with bright red hair.
"Oh, poor Poopy Head," Isaac said, watching Kaine slam into the ground. "If I'd known you were going next, I would've been nicer to Blade."
Blade sent Kaine flying off the arena. Isaac pressed his palms together in mock prayer, a tear glistening at the corner of his eye.
"What a shame. What a shame indeed. I'll pray for your health, Poopy Head."
For just a moment, with that tear and that expression, he almost looked like a saint.
Almost.
The three other members of his team looked at each other then without speaking, they agreed on one thing.
They would never make Isaac their enemy.