"What the hell are you bastards doing?!"
My voice bounces off the crystal walls, as if it also wanted to voice its anger to the two nobles in front of me.
The two nobles don't even flinch at my clamour. One of them, tall, slim, his hair slicked back as if he oils it with his own arrogance, turned his head slowly towards me, as if I've interruped a private joke within the group. The other, broader in the shoulders with a smug, sleepy smile, keeps spinning a little flame in his palm like he's bored enough to set the room on fire for entertainment.
Between them is another commoner, the one from the carriage. He's pressed up against the wall, half-slumped, and breathing heavily as if every inhale hurts. His robe is mangled. His knuckles are scraped and battered. There's swelling around one of his eyes.
'What the hell happened to him?'
My thoughts are interrupted as he looks up at me like I'm either his last chance of survival or his next mistake.
The slick-haired noble lets out a soft laugh.
"Well, well, well," he drawls, "look what the wind blew in."
The broad one snorts. "A gust of virtuous poverty."
I take a restless step forward.
"Whoa, whoa, chill right there, my friend." The slick-haired one tilts his chin. "What are you planning to do, exactly? Actually, hold on. Let me guess." He gestures with his hand open towards the beaten commoner. "Rescue the helpless?"
The broad one's grin widens. "Or are you here to cry at us about fairness? We get those types often."
My hands clench.
The commoner's lips part like he wants to speak, but only a rough sound comes out, causing him to bury it down.
And I... because I've never had patience, not for stuff like this, because watching this makes something in my chest feel like it's rotting.
I don't wait for words.
I throw my palm forward.
"Ventus: Cutting Draft!"
The air snaps into a blade and shoots across the room, straight at their faces.
It's a clean cast. Angry, but clean.
The blade slices through the space between them.
And they dodge it like it's a joke.
The slick-haired noble leans back with the kind of lazy grace that says he's done this a hundred times. The broad one turns sideways barely an inch, still smiling, and the wind blade hisses past his ear, cutting a thin groove into the crystal wall behind him.
The noble's eyes flick to the groove.
Then back to me.
He laughs.
"Ohhh," the broad one says, delighted. "We've got an eager one."
The slick-haired one claps, slow and mocking. "Now, wasn't that just ADORABLE?!"
My jaw tightens. "Move away from him."
The slick-haired noble looks down at the beaten and battered commoner, as if he's debating whether it's worth the effort of stepping over him. "Or what?" He asks lightly. "You'll throw another puff of air at us?"
"It wasn't a puff," I snap.
The broad one puts a hand to his chest, as if I've wounded him. "It wasn't a puff," he repeats, with cloying sympathy. "My sincerest apologies... I meant a temper tantrum."
The commoner tries to straighten, fails, and sinks again. His voice comes out cracked.
"Ryn," he says, barely audible.
I glance at him. "Don't move. You'll fall over."
The slick-haired noble's smile sharpens. "Ah, how delightful! You two know each other."
The broad one squints. "Wait... I remember you. You're the loud carriage boy, right?" He points at the injured commoner. "The one who kept whining about how commoners never win."
The slick-haired noble chimes in. "Ah, yes! I remember now. That tiresome disturbance we heard a few carriages behind us. To think it was you two this whole time... what a lovely turn of events."
The commoner's face flushes, a mix of shame and anger. "I wasn't—"
"Oh, you were," the broad one says brightly. "It was pathetic. But honestly? You weren't wrong."
The slick-haired noble turns his attention to me again. "So tell me, what are you going to do, Basin rat?"
I feel heat rise behind my eyes. Not magic heat. Just rage.
I take another step forward.
"Get away from him," I repeat, slower. "Last chance."
The broad one laughs, and this time it's loud, hysterical, like I've told the funniest joke in the world.
Then he casually lifted his palm, and the flame that he was spinning brightened into a thin dart.
It wasn't aimed at me.
It was aimed at the commoner. He flinched so hard that he banged his head against the wall.
The broad noble doesn't release the dart. He lets it hover there, inches from the commoner's throat, like a reminder of who controls the room.
"Careful now," the slick-haired noble says to me, almost kindly. "You're very close to making this worse for him."
My nails dig into my palms.
"What did he do to deserve this?" I ask, voice low.
The slick-haired noble's eyes sparkle. "Oh, he did plenty. In fact, he did this to himself."
The broad one chuckles. "He made the mistake in thinking we were his friends."
The commoner's shoulders shake. He tries to speak, but his voice breaks into a cough.
I look between them, stunned. "What?! So you lured him here?!"
The slick-haired noble ran his hand through his hair. "Lured? That's such a dramatic word. I would say... we offered cooperation."
The broad one nods. "Teamwork. Very Academy-approved."
My stomach turns. "You used him... took advantage of him."
The slick-haired noble lifts his brow. "Used?" He taps his chin like he's thinking. "No, no, no. That would imply he actually had ANY value."
The commoner makes a small sound. I couldn't tell if it was a half-laugh, half-sob.
I feel something cold settle in my gut. The kind of cold that isn't fear. The kind that makes you dangerous.
"Tell me then," I say, and my voice surprises even me with how steady it is. "What exactly did you guys do?"
The slick-haired noble looks at the broad one. "Should we?"
The broad one grins. "Oh, I think we should. I want to see the look on his face once we tell him."
'These sick bastards are enjoying this.'
Too much.
They're enjoying the story.
They're enjoying hurting someone and watching another person's reaction.
The slick-haired noble steps closer to the commoner and crouches slightly, like he's talking to a child.
"We met him at the start," he says, voice sweet. "Pure coincidence. He was alone. Shaking. He looked like he wanted to throw up."
The broad one adds. "And as the kind nobles we are, we decided to be generous."
The slick-haired noble continues. "We told him we'd clear the maze together. That the trial becomes easier if you work together, and that it was a smart plan."
The commoner's jaw tightens. His eyes glisten. He's trying not to cry again.
"We said," the slick-haired noble goes on, "that we didn't care about bloodlines or nobility. That we respected ambition."
The broad one laughs. "He believed it! Oh, the Gods, how he believed it."
My throat burns. "And then?"
"And then," the slick-haired noble says with a shrug, "we let him do what commoners do best."
The broad one leans in. "Work."
The slick-haired noble smiles wider. "He fought for us. He ran for us. He panicked and threw spells at anything and anyone. He got hit. He burned through his Aether reserves, leaving nothing left... how pitiful."
The broad one makes a thoughtful sound. "He actually did pretty well... for a commoner."
The commoner's hands tremble. "You… you said you'd help."
The slick-haired noble tilts his head. "We did help. Didn't we?" He looks to the broad one.
The broad one nods, as if considering a generous donation. "We killed a monster... or two."
"We did the bare minimum," the slick-haired noble says, almost proud. "And it was just enough to keep him convinced that we were 'together.' Just enough so that he kept pushing."
The commoner's voice cracks. "Why?"
The broad one snorts. "Because it was funny."
The slick-haired noble adds, "Because it was entertaining."
My vision blurs for a second with sheer disgust.
"And when you reached the end," I say quietly, "you backstabbed him."
The slick-haired noble smiles, as if I had just got the question in an exam correct.
"Oh, yes."
The broad one taps his temple. "You see, the maze doesn't care who 'worked the hardest.' All it cares about is who reaches the exit.
He gestures at the commoner. "And he was exhausted."
"The rat just couldn't run on his wheel any longer." The slick-haired noble's voice turns almost delighted. "No Aether left. No strength. No pride. Just a tired boy who thought he'd found a shortcut to his dreams."
The commoner tries to stand, or maybe to attack, perhaps even to run away. But he couldn't. His legs gave out, causing him to slide down the wall again, his face twisted in humiliation.
The broad one's flame-dart dips closer to his throat.
"And then," the broad one says, "we explained reality to him."
He looks right at me, his grin bright.
"As if we'd let a filthy commoner pass this exam and attend the Academy."
They both burst into laughter.
Not a chuckle. Not a snort.
Pure hysterical laughter.
The kind that makes their shoulders shake and their eyes water like they're having the time of their lives.
The sound makes my skin crawl.
I stare at them and feel my entire body go tight, as the wind inside me has turned into a blade.
I don't even realise I'm moving until I'm already stepping forward.
"You're both deranged," I say.
The slick-haired noble wipes at the corner of his eye like he's laughing so hard he might actually cry. "Oh, the moral outrage. It truly is inspiring to see."
The broad one points his flame-dart at me now, finally acknowledging that I'm a threat... barely.
"You should tread carefully, commoner," he says. "This trial eliminates people for 'dying.' And wouldn't that be a shame?"
I bare my teeth. "You think you can kill me in here?"
The broad one shrugs. "Why not? If you 'die' it's not our fault."
The slick-haired noble stands upright again, smoothing his sleeves like this is a social event. "And even if you survive, you can't prove anything. No one will care."
That's the worst part.
He's probably right.
The commoner drags a shaky breath. "Ryn… don't—"
"Shut up," I snap at him, then immediately hate myself for it. I soften my voice, just a fraction. "Sorry, that's not at you— just don't talk. Save your strength."
He swallows, eyes wide.
The slick-haired noble watches the exchange with visible amusement.
"Aww," he coos. "He's protecting his comrade."
The broad one smirks. "Maybe he wants him as a pet too."
...
Something inside me snaps.
Not into panic.
But into clarity.
I'm not here to win points. I'm not here to look good. And I'm certainly not here to be "smart."
I'm here because I'm sick and tired of watching people like them treat people like me like we're disposable.
And I'm sick of thinking I have to hide it to survive.
I lift my hand again.
The broad one's smile widens. "Oh? Another gust of wind?"
I don't answer him.
I cast.
"Ventus: Turbulent Break!"
The blast rips through the room. The pressure detonates outward, not aimed at their bodies, but at their footing, at the air around their knees and ankles, at the space they assume belongs to them.
The slick-haired noble's eyes widen.
The broad one's flame-spear flickers.
They both stumble back half a step.
Not much.
But enough.
Enough to wipe the smug certainty off their faces for one precious second.
"Okay," the slick-haired noble says, his voice sharpening. "Looks like you can actually cast."
The broad one laughs, but it's not hysterical this time. It sounds like he's annoyed. "How cute. Someone thinks they're the hero."
I cast again, not giving them time to settle.
"Ventus: Cutting Draft!"
The blade slices toward the broad one's hand, aiming to disrupt his flame-dart, not his flesh. The air blade hisses past, and the dart destabilises, flame wobbling and then snapping out.
The broad noble clicks his tongue. "Tch, how irritating."
He flicks his wrist and a new flame forms, smaller, tighter.
The slick-haired noble lifts his hand too, and a pale shimmer spreads around his fingers, some defensive enchantment, a shield-thread, something refined.
They're not panicking.
They're playing. Like kids in a playground.
At least for them.
Not for me.
The commoner whimpers softly, trying to crawl away from the wall, trying to make himself small.
I glance at him.
My voice comes out harsh. "Stay behind me."
He nods weakly.
The slick-haired noble chuckles. "Hahaha. Look at him. Ordering people around."
The broad one steps forward, flame coiling in his palm. "I'm SO going to enjoy putting you in the ground."
"Oh yeah? Get in line, pal," I snarl.
The broad one throws his flame.
Not a fireball. A tight spear of heat.
I dodge, and it scorches the air beside my shoulder, making my skin sting.
The slick-haired noble follows with something like a binding thread, thin lines of red light that whip toward my ankles.
I leap back, wind gathering under my feet—
'No. I don't have fancy movement spells.'
'But I do have two spells and a LOT of stubbornness.'
I slam Turbulent Break downward.
"Ventus: Turbulent Break!"
The shockwave bursts at my feet and shatters the binding threads before they can wrap me. My boots skid on crystal, but I stay upright.
The slick-haired noble's smile tightens. "How annoying, scuttering away like that. Typical for a rat."
'What, was I supposed to take that and lose my ankles?? Either way, this is good. I want to be annoying. Get them to make a mistake.'
I throw Cutting Draft at his face.
He flicks his wrist, and his shimmering defence catches the blade, dispersing it like mist.
He laughs. "Is that all you've got?"
I don't answer.
I throw Turbulent Break again, wider this time, slamming pressure into the space between both nobles, forcing their bodies to react to movement they didn't choose.
The broad one staggers a half-step.
The slick-haired one shifts back, boots scraping.
They're still calm. Still feeling superior.
But now they're moving.
Now they're responding.
Now they're not laughing.
The broad one's eyes narrow. "You're going to regret this."
I grin, teeth sharp. "Really? I'll make sure to add that to the list then."
The slick-haired noble glances at the crystal obelisk in the centre of the room, then back at me.
"Looks like you don't understand the situation," he says softly, voice turning cold. "We don't have to beat you quickly— or beat you at all."
He points toward the commoner behind me.
"We just need to beat him again while you watch."
The commoner makes a small, terrified sound.
My blood goes hot.
'These fucking guys...'