Scene 1 — TJ
"Yes, Alexis. I'm already aware."
I kept my voice low. The tunnels carried sound in stupid ways—pick the wrong corridor and even a whisper could echo for half a floor.
I'd had to show Megan my emergency hideout just to answer the call without losing signal. That alone meant this was already bigger than whatever Alexis thought she could handle.
Megan stood by the stone door—one of the old flip-doors third years liked to brag about. Press the wrong point and it was just a wall. Press the right one and the hallway bent around you.
"Just handle it," I said. "And tell Thomas he's going to pay for instigating this."
I hung up before she could argue.
I stepped back into the corridor and went left instead of forward, away from the trick wall.
Not far from the arena—but deep enough that having signal felt like a blessing. The cheering grew louder with every turn.
Which meant what it always meant.
Second years skipping class. The kind that didn't think about consequences until their emblem melted.
"JAVI! JAVI! JAVI!"
The pit was crowded—not full. There was a difference. Full meant order. Crowded meant panic the moment something went wrong.
Javi stood in the center with scrapes and bruises, his staff snapped in half. Two of his three opponents were already down.
The third wasn't.
He was still cycling, still forcing a B-rank core to hold under pressure. Similar level to Javi. Similar grit.
That mattered.
I didn't look at the crowd. I looked at the bodies. The stances. The one still standing.
Then I made the call.
"Kick those two out of your faction," I said, nodding at the ones on the ground. "That one can stay."
Javi flicked a glance at me without breaking rhythm. The remaining fighter did the same—half a second of evaluation before he decided I was a referee, not a threat.
He decided wrong.
Good.
"Since you told me about this little situation," I added, loud enough for Megan to hear, "I'll offer an olive branch."
I pulled an emblem from my coat.
Old metal. Real weight.
Tusk Force.
Megan's eyes narrowed immediately.
"No," she said. "That's the same as becoming your underling group. I'd rather run another solo mission and earn my own title emblem."
She didn't reach for it.
I didn't pull it back.
"I don't need underlings," I said calmly. "I need the second years under control."
Her jaw tightened.
"You need resources to maintain your own ability to make it out of this school," I continued, "and last I checked, my faction controls the best materials market."
She hesitated.
That hesitation told me everything.
Then she took the emblem.
The crowd didn't cheer. They didn't even understand what had just happened.
That was fine. Leaders didn't need applause.
I cupped my hands and shouted into the arena.
"HEY THOMAS! ALEXIS SAID SHE'S GOING TO HANG YOU BY YOUR BALLS!"
Chaos.
Thomas vanished first—scooping Javi up and disappearing into one of our private routes. His people followed half a second later.
"Shit, it's TJ!"
"Run!"
"He's going to tell our leaders!"
They scattered too late. They always did.
People didn't move when danger appeared.
They moved when something ran.
Megan and I watched them scatter like ants.
Fear was cheaper than punishment.
And it traveled faster.
Scene 2 — Amber
The looks started before I reached the stairs.
Girls stopped talking when I passed. Not dramatic silence—worse. That quiet, careful pause like they didn't want to be seen saying anything.
By the time I reached my door, I already knew Megan had done something.
I opened it and found her inside, spinning slowly in my chair.
"Meg," I said, dropping my books. "What exactly did you do? Everyone's been staring at me since lunch."
She blinked like time had just restarted.
Then she pulled an emblem from her pocket and laid it on my books.
A boar carved into the metal.
Heavy.
My eyes locked on it instantly.
"Tusk Force," I muttered. "That sounds familiar."
"It should," Megan said. "It was our old faction leader's emblem. He lost it before entering the fifth years. Third year last cycle."
That explained a lot.
"If he hit A-rank," she continued, "that's why no one's heard from him."
"Who had it?" I asked.
She smiled without humor.
"TJ."
My stomach dropped.
That didn't mean TJ found it.
It meant he'd been holding it.
Which meant Jimmy hadn't just lost a fight—he'd been erased quietly.
"Our faction just got banned," Megan said. "A new emblem won't fix what Ren did. TJ's offering his notes to any second years willing to keep pressure on her group."
She exhaled.
"Even if they pass, we won't be around. We're both about to breach A-rank. Without second years stepping up, the faction's dead."
I sat down slowly.
"Here I was blowing up his phone," Megan added. "Asking to borrow his emblem. Jimmy lost his without even needing to fight TJ."
She looked up.
"Let me borrow your black emblem. I need to talk to Alice—verify TJ really beat him."
I opened my drawer and handed it over. The scratches looked deeper every time.
"More scars than last time," she said. "What have you been doing lately?"
I nodded toward my books. Research. Mind-state and astral cycling.
She snorted.
"Of course my nerd picked books over techniques."
She pocketed the emblem.
"I'll bring it back later. Don't go near Ren or the rest—they're probably still mad at me."
When the door closed, I collapsed onto my bed.
Exhausted.
Not from training.
From realizing the school had already chosen who would survive.
Scene 3 — TJ
"Shut it and go train with the first years," Alexis snapped.
Thomas's crew went quiet immediately. Even he didn't argue.
"Come on," Thomas said lightly. "Finish fast and we'll hit the sparring arena."
He led his people off.
Alexis turned to the rest.
"The rest of you are with TJ."
A smaller group stepped forward. Not weak—just under-connected.
Alexis didn't soften her tone.
"Understand this," she said. "What TJ is offering you is only a fraction of what some of your classmates are already getting."
A few stiffened.
"Cross-faction tutors exist whether we like it or not," she continued. "Bloodlines, favors, old alliances. Some students are stacking manuals and calling it talent."
She stepped back.
"You're here because you don't have those doors open."
Then she left.
I sat under the tree.
"Alright," I said. "Now that the idiots are gone, let's work."
A few exhaled in relief.
"Cycling is just movement," I continued. "If you don't understand why you're moving energy, you'll build a trash foundation and call it progress."
I tapped the ground.
"Basics. What's the difference between inner astral energy and outer astral energy?"
A girl with glasses answered carefully.
I nodded.
"That's the researcher's answer," I said. "Useful—but limited."
I opened my bag. Thirty notebooks hit the ground.
"These are the books," I said. "And my notes. The books show you the map. My notes show you where people die following it."
I handed them out.
"Study. Ask questions. If you can make Chiron's cycling method work, you're not just helping yourself—you're fixing the system for the next class."
I sat back.
"Discussion today. I'd rather fix your thinking now than fix your broken core later."
And as they opened their notebooks, I saw it clearly.
Tutor groups weren't competing with strength anymore.
They were competing with foundations.
And that was a war I planned to win.