Chapter 8
The gym air was thick with the smell of varnished wood and sweat, the faint echo of past sparring matches clinging to the walls.
Sage stood in the center of the mat, arms loose at her sides, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Her eyes glinted with something sharp—mockery, maybe boredom, maybe both.
Ethan rolled his shoulders, heat buzzing under his skin. His heart drummed too loud in his ears, but adrenaline had already drowned out reason. He was riled up, ready, stupid enough to think he could actually land something.
"Don't hold back," Sage said casually, like she was inviting him to play a board game.
That smugness snapped the last thread of patience Ethan had.
Ethan didn't hesitate—he lunged straight at Sage with all the force his body could muster. His fist crashed against her shoulder—
—and immediately, pain flared through his knuckles.
It was like he'd just tried to punch through a slab of concrete.
He staggered back with a hiss, clutching his hand.
"What the—" he muttered.
Sage tilted her head, almost amused. "Didn't anyone teach you? When you pour magic into your body, you're not just tougher. You're untouchable."
Before he could recover, she slipped aside as his next swing cut empty air. She dodged again. And again. Effortlessly. Her expression never changed from that infuriating smirk.
"You call that a punch?" she mocked. "You're slow, sloppy, and… weak."
Ethan's teeth ground together. Weak. She didn't even sound like she was trying to insult him—just stating facts.
He jumped, twisting his body into a flying kick—his strongest move yet.
Sage pivoted a half-step.
His foot sliced through nothing.
Her counter came instantly—her fist snapping up and burying itself into his cheek.
White heat exploded across his face. His head snapped sideways as he staggered back, clutching his jaw. He could already feel the bruise rising under his skin.
"Shit!" he hissed.
Sage chuckled, brushing dust from her knuckles. "That was me being gentle. Any real hit and you'd be crawling on the floor."
Ethan's heart pounded. Every instinct screamed that one wrong move against her meant lights out. Her physicality was unreal—not just strength, but speed, precision, and confidence he couldn't even fake.
She pressed forward, jabbing, sweeping, forcing him into defense.
He blocked with his arms, ducked under blows by instinct, his breathing ragged. Every dodge felt like it came a fraction too late.
She was no-diffing him—completely.
And she knew it.
"You don't even know how to use your magic," she taunted between strikes. "You're flailing. No technique, no control. Pitiful."
Her fist sliced toward his head. He ducked low, stumbled, and—
—something snapped inside him.
His knee shot up with desperate force, slamming into her stomach.
The sound was ugly—a hollow thud.
Sage gasped, eyes widening as the impact forced her back half a step. For the first time, her composure cracked.
Ethan blinked, stunned. Wait… I actually—?
Her hand pressed against her abdomen, her expression flickering between fury and disbelief. "…You little—"
Even she hadn't expected that. He hadn't just landed a hit—his magic had flared, concentrated without him even realizing.
Her lips curled into a grin. Half furious. Half impressed.
"Well. Looks like you're not entirely hopeless."
Before Ethan could answer, she surged forward, grabbing his wrist. In a blur she spun, hooking his leg, yanking him off balance. His stomach dropped as her strength coiled around him like a vice.
She leapt—dragging him upward, ready to slam him into the mat with bone-shattering force.
Ethan's mind flashed white. I'm screwed. She's gonna kill me—
"Stop!"
The command cracked through the air like a whip.
Both froze mid-motion.
Luna stood at the edge of the gym, pale face framed by black hair, her red eyes sharp with quiet authority.
"That's enough, Sage," she said, voice soft but unyielding. "You can't keep picking fights with every new student you meet."
Sage landed lightly, releasing Ethan with an annoyed click of her tongue.
"Relax. I was going easy." Her eyes flicked back to Ethan. "Didn't even use my magic ability."
Ethan froze. Wait… what? That wasn't even her ability? That was just raw strength?!
Sage smirked at his expression, folding her arms. "Not bad, though. Catching me off guard like that? Didn't think you had it in you."
Ethan wiped his lip, forcing himself to grin despite the throbbing pain. "Oh, don't worry. Next time, I'll actually win."
Her laugh rang sharp. "Sure. I'll be waiting, glowstick."
Ethan dusted himself off, trying to look less wrecked than he felt. His cheek throbbed, his knuckles burned, and his ribs still hummed from dodging a dozen near-lethal blows.
Luna crossed the gym floor, giving him a once-over. "You okay?"
"Peachy," Ethan muttered, flexing his jaw. "Might've lost a tooth, but hey—small victories."
Sage smirked, leaning back against the wall as if she hadn't just turned him into a crash test dummy. "Don't let him fool you. He's not bad. He even managed to surprise me."
Ethan scoffed. "Surprise? That knee was skill."
She arched an eyebrow. "Skill? Please. It was a fluke. You couldn't repeat it if your life depended on it."
"Guess we'll find out in our rematch," Ethan shot back, forcing a grin through the ache.
Sage's laugh was sharp, almost delighted. "Bold words for someone who couldn't land a proper punch. Fine. Round two—whenever you've stopped wobbling."
Luna sighed, slipping between them before things could spark again. "Don't take it personally, Ethan. She does this with everyone."
"That supposed to make me feel better?" he asked.
"Depends. Did it?"
"…Not even a little."
By morning, Ethan's body still ached, but the real punishment was sitting in an actual lecture hall.
The room buzzed with quiet energy, rows of students hunched over notebooks and tablets as the professor droned about magical theory.
Ethan slouched in the back, tapping his pen against the desk. So this is it. World full of ghosts, magic, and death matches… and I'm stuck in class like it's high school all over again.
He sighed, resting his chin on his hand. Guess even ghost hunters can't escape homework.
Up front, Freddie sat perfectly upright, pen moving across the page with crisp efficiency. Not a wasted word, not a missed detail. Ethan stared at him like he was observing a foreign species.
Of course he's loving this.
Around him, other first-years scribbled notes furiously, eyes bright with focus. Ethan stifled a groan. Great. Surrounded by nerds. Exactly what I needed.
Later that day the cafeteria buzzed with chatter, trays clattering and voices echoing. Ethan dropped onto a bench with his plate, relieved when Luna slid in beside him. Freddie arrived a moment later, calm as ever.
Ethan blinked between them. "Wait… you two know each other?"
"Of course," Freddie said, "We're classmates. We even worked on a project together last week."
Luna nodded, sipping her drink. "It was tolerable."
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Hold on. I nearly get my head kicked in yesterday, and you two were already buddy-buddy?"
Freddie smirked faintly. "You could try socializing, Ethan. It works wonders."
Ethan groaned, stabbing his fork into his food. "Unbelievable. I get the goth reaper and the academic overachiever as my closest allies. I'm doomed."
Luna's lips quirked. "Could be worse."
The chatter died when the crystal screens lining the cafeteria walls flickered to life. The headmaster's image appeared—tall, imposing, his voice carrying like thunder.
"Students of Arcanis Academy," he began, "tomorrow marks the start of our annual tradition—the Capture the Flag tournament. But as always… expect a twist."
The hall erupted with excitement. Whispers shot across the tables, the energy electric.
Ethan leaned back, confused. "Capture the flag? Seriously? What's the big deal?"
Freddie's eyes gleamed in a way Ethan hadn't seen before. "It's not just a game. First-years to fifth-years compete. Strategy, combat, magic—everything is tested. For many, it's their first chance to prove themselves."
Ethan studied him. Freddie's usual calm had cracked—he looked almost thrilled.
Luna, however, barely glanced up from her tray. "Not mandatory. I won't bother."
Ethan frowned. "Why not?"
She shrugged. "Not my thing."
Freddie ignored her, turning to Ethan with conviction. "This is my moment. I've been preparing since day one."
Ethan's jaw tightened. He glanced across the cafeteria where other members of the Top Seven lounged like royalty, the air around them heavy with unspoken challenge.
His fists clenched under the table. If there was ever a chance to test myself… this is it.
He grit his teeth, eyes fixed on the strongest in the room. My time's coming. Sooner than they think.