Chapter 9
The cafeteria hummed with noise—clattering trays, laughter bouncing off high ceilings, and the faint tang of hot food mingling with the lingering scent of the training halls. Ethan and Freddie weaved through the crowd toward the registration line for the capture-the-flag tournament.
A familiar, teasing voice rang from behind Freddie.
"Frederick! no way you're also registering for this tournament?"
Freddie's head snapped around. Warren was leaning casually against a table, smirk plastered across his face. The tone was playful, but sharp, and Freddie's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"Warren," he said coolly, though a flicker of irritation crossed his features.
"You better hope we're on the same team," Warren continued, leaning in slightly, eyes locked on him. "Head-to-head? You know you'll never beat me right?."
Freddie's grip on his bag strap tightened. "Just wait," he muttered under his breath, the calmness in his voice barely hiding the surge of anger beneath.
Ethan watched quietly, noting the tension and history between them.
Meanwhile, a lighter voice cut through the noise, addressing him directly.
"Of course I'm signing up," said Sage, leaning casually against a counter. Her smirk was playful, directed at Ethan only. "Wouldn't dream of missing the fun. I need a real challenge, not just another training dummy."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "And let me guess… Luna's sitting this one out again?"
Sage rolled her eyes. "Boring. She's probably hiding somewhere, pretending she doesn't care."
Ethan chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Yeah, that sounds about right."
By the time they finished registering, the cafeteria had thinned, and the late afternoon sun slanted through the windows. The air was thick with anticipation, chatter of rivalries, and the subtle, unspoken currents of student dynamics.
Night had settled over the academy, draping the halls in shadow. The distant hum of magic and faint echoes of footsteps were the only sounds as Ethan walked toward the empty sparring gym. His thoughts churned with the day's events—and the looming capture-the-flag tournament.
He paused at the gym door, thinking about Freddie. Training with him might have helped, but at his level, it would only hold Freddie back. Better to push himself alone.
Inside, the gym smelled of polished wood and faint sparks of residual magic. Ethan squared up to the dummy at the center, fists clenching. He poured his magic through his strikes—punch after punch, magic sparking with each impact. His breath came in heavy, sharp gasps, sweat slicking his hair back. Each hit thudded against the dummy, satisfying, but nowhere near the force he'd seen from others.
And then—a soft, almost imperceptible voice:
"Hello."
Ethan froze, nearly losing his balance. Slowly, he turned. Luna was there, arms crossed, expression calm but amused.
"You've got to stop sneaking up on me like that," he muttered.
"Were you spacing out again?" she said lightly. "And punching a dummy will only get you so far."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Well, what do you have in mind?"
Her lips curved faintly. "Spar with me."
He blinked. She wasn't as muscular as Sage, but he knew better than to underestimate anyone in this world.
"I don't usually like physical combat," she added softly, "and I get teased for it a lot."
"How exactly are you going to help me then?" Ethan asked, skeptical.
"Step back," she said calmly. "Ghost manipulation magic: summon."
A shadowy, ethereal figure coalesced in front of her. Its form flickered, shifting, before solidifying—a ghost.
"Shit," Ethan muttered under his breath.
"Don't panic," Luna said. "It's only a level four—or weaker."
She explained her magic: she could absorb defeated ghosts and manipulate them at will. Ethan's eyes widened. "That's… broken. Why aren't you in the top seven?"
Luna's smile faltered. "…" She didn't answer, and for a moment, her calm composure seemed to crack.
Ethan's mind raced. Did she have stronger ghosts at her disposal?
"Attack it," she instructed. "Don't be scared. Fighting a ghost will teach you more than a dummy ever could. Marlon will go easy on you."
"No way you named it Marlon," Ethan said incredulously. "You actually name all your ghosts?"
The sparring began. Blow after blow, Ethan and the ghost clashed. Finger blasts flew, sparks arcing through the air, each strike sending a shockwave across the gym floor. The ghost's movements were fast, almost fluid, forcing Ethan to dodge and counter with precise timing. Sweat streamed down his face, muscles screaming with effort, but he could feel his magic flow stabilizing, becoming more controlled.
Luna observed silently at first, then spoke, her voice calm but encouraging: "Very good. Now I won't hold back."
The ghost launched a relentless barrage. Ethan dodged, blocked, and pushed through sheer determination, landing a gut punch with all his strength. Each strike—the sweep, kick, blow after blow—felt more natural, more precise. His fists connected with real force, and he felt the thrill of progress.
As the ghost collapsed, Ethan's chest heaved. His eyes burned with exhilaration and raw intensity. Finally, the ghost dissolved into nothingness, leaving him panting, bruised, yet energized.
"Oh… I killed him?" he whispered, snapping back to reality. "Shit… sorry, Luna"
Luna handed him a bottle of water, her expression softening. "No big deal. I was willing to sacrifice him anyway."
Ethan sank to the floor, letting exhaustion wash over him. "If this was me before," he thought quietly, "I would've cowered in fear… but now, I feel responsible. I can't afford to back down."
Luna watched him, curiosity in her eyes. "You're… determined," she said softly. "Why push yourself like this?"
Ethan smiled faintly. "I wasn't born like the others. Sure, I don't have thunder in my hands or the ability to control ghosts—but I have something most don't. Fire in my heart. And now… I have a responsibility to use it."
Luna blinked, genuinely taken aback. For a long moment, she seemed lost in thought before softly saying, "I wish I could be like that. Everyone expects great things from me because of my family and magic ability. But I… don't have that fire to chase. I envy you."
She hesitated, cheeks faintly pink. "Being the youngest of three older brothers… I practically lived alone most of my life.
Ethan nodded slowly. "Trust me, I get it. I'm an only child. Never really knew my dad. I can relate, in a way."
For a few quiet minutes, the gym was still, the tension easing as understanding settled between them. The night outside pressed close, but inside, the air was calm—yet charged with promise, growth, and unspoken potential.
Morning came quickly. The academy courtyard was alive with energy. Students lined up in full battle gear, their robes, armor, and boots gleaming faintly in the early sun. Casual watches glinted on their wrists, small but clearly standard equipment. The air smelled of morning dew and faint ozone from magic lingering in the stone floors.
The headmaster's voice rang out across the courtyard. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is time! The moment you've all been waiting for!"
Ethan's eyes swept across the field. Sage stood poised, fists clenched, exuding confidence and readiness. Freddie was quiet, focused, scanning for possible opponents. Warren smirked, sizing him up with playful menace. And then William, calm and calculating, radiated latent power that made Ethan instinctively tense.
His stomach fluttered with a mix of excitement and nerves. This wasn't just another training session—this battle would test everything he'd learned, and he could feel the weight of expectation pressing down on him.
The crowd of students was buzzing with anticipation. Every heartbeat seemed to echo through the courtyard. This wasn't just a game—it was a test of skill, strategy, and heart. This was Ethan's time, his moment to shine.