“Today is a fine morning for some friendly duels, am I right?”

  Well, fuck.

  Alira should have seen this coming from yesterday’s sudden notice telling them to wear training clothes. Too bad she’d been too busy admiring the sleek new uniform that had come with the notice—the one that hugged her figure a little too perfectly; she wished she could snap a few selfies and captioned it ‘Catwoman cosplay’.

  Then she’d found yet another stuffed in the letterbox outside her bedroom before leaving: a last-minute change of venue, from the usual training hall for practical alchemy class to one of the Academy’s smaller arenas. Alira had paused, eyes narrowing. A suspicious little ‘hm’.

  But by the time she arrived at the arena, her training clothes already damp with sweat and forest dew, and saw a crowd much larger than the usual twenty, it was already too late to ask for a leave.

  The ‘small’ arena was an elliptical ring of sand on the lower floor, girdled by iron rails and overlooked by hundreds of wooden benches on stone steps that climbed upward. A flock of a hundred or so students scattered on the sandy ground—Alira even spotted several familiar faces she’d seen during the orientation a month or so ago.

  The entire intake was present.

  Maria found her first, rushing up to her to hand her a handkerchief. Alira accepted with a small thanks.

  A professor stood on a bench at the tallest level. To Alira, still mildly nearsighted from the lingering effects of extreme mana overload, the woman looked like a Sprite bottle with a yellow cap. She wore green garments beneath a long, white cloak, completing the look with her bright blonde hair pulled back behind her.

  One thing was certain: she wasn’t Professor Rupert, who was supposed to be teaching practical alchemy at this time. Professor Rupert was a giant descendant with imposing stature and a wardrobe full of exactly one shade of black. The woman up there looked like she’d barely reach his waist.

  It seemed a wrench had already been thrown into the newly updated timetable.

  “Well met, kiddos! I’m Sora, and that’s Miss Sora to you,” the professor announced. Her voice carried across the arena as if she were standing right beside them. “I’m the professor in charge of your Alchemy in Combat class, and what better way to start than with some lighthearted matches, am I right?”

  From the groans and gasps around her, Alira could tell that most students, like herself, did not agree with the professor’s definition of lighthearted at all. This seemed all too serious for one.

  “For that, I needed more time. Hence, this sudden arrangement. I’m sorry if this has caused you trouble. There are a hundred and twelve of you present, and the arena can accommodate three duels at once. We have four hours, two class periods. That’s no more than six minutes per duel.”

  Professor Sora raised her hand, or something that looked longer than a hand. Alira squinted. A staff of some sort.

  She really needed a pair of glasses. She’d even drawn the design for a custom order, since she would rather be blind than wear the common two-big-circles style. Unfortunately, by the time they arrived from the capital, her vision would’ve already recovered.

  A sharp knock resounded when the professor slammed the staff back down. Metal pieces shot up from the floor in sync with the motion of the staff, one before each student.

  Alira caught the one in front of her. The rectangular iron plate bore the number twenty-seven seared onto it.

  “All right, the numbers are randomly distributed. One will pair up with two, three pairs will pair up with four, and so on. Get in a line from left to right and figure out who your partner is,” Professor Sora said with a clap on. “Get moving, kiddos, we’re tight on time.”

  Alira headed toward the start of the straggly line, her gaze glued to her plate. First, because she didn’t want any accidental eye contact with anyone in particular. Second, because she was puzzling over the little trick the professor had just pulled.

  The slam of the staff and the name plates springing up from the ground—that was Movement Bind. But the name plates hadn’t been buried in the ground or anything. That suggested Position Exchange. With what?

  Alira kicked lightly at the sandy floor beneath her feet. The individual grains of sand?

  As far as she could see and gather, Professor Sora hadn’t had the plates on her person, and the professor herself was an Elite Alchemist. That meant she’d used an artifact that allowed her to cast without direct contact with the target.

  To summarize: Professor Sora precast Position Exchange on the plates and the sand, and Movement Bind name plates and her staff. Then she’d triggered both back-to-back.

  That was a lot of work just to distribute some number plates in a flashy way.

  Alira took her spot after twenty-six students. Just as she was about to sneak a glance at a taller girl on her right, a familiar face stepped in front of her, blocking her view.

  “Twenty-seven?” Cinnamon asked.

  Alira nodded, then looked away at once to make it clear she did not want to make any small talk. From the corner of her eyes, she saw him open his mouth to say something anyway, but the professor’s voice cut in first.

  “Let’s see. Mr. Rupert said he’d covered a few Exchange and Link casts. You’re allowed to use any cast you know during battle, but limit the type to three to not overload unless you’ve been a Lesser Alchemist for a while. Let me run through some ground rules while you kids do some warm-up for five.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Professor Sora clapped her hands loudly and urged, “Get to stretching! You’ve all taken your Physical Conditioning classes already, right? Don’t disappoint whoever your professor is for that class!”

  Alira exhaled and reluctantly bent forward and reached for her feet, putting in just enough effort to look like she was doing something.

  “As a reminder,” Professor Sora continued, “the name of this course is Alchemy in Combat, not Alchemic Combat. Anything and everything you have is fair game.”

  “If you want, you could even grab a fistful of sand and toss it in your opponent's face. Nothing’s off-limits!” she said with a hearty laugh. “Though, of course, I will step in if things get too dangerous. I know what some excited kids can accomplish.”

  That sure sounded like things were going to get out of control fast.

  Alira had no plan to take this seriously. She’d just surrender, let bunny boy have his easy win, and catch up on some sleep.

  “While these are just some friendly sparrings,” the professor went on, “I want all of you to feel that the fight has some real stakes. So, I’ve put up a few unbound artifacts as prizes. Today, half of you will be eliminated. We’ll keep holding sessions until we have three final winners.”

  Alira stayed bent over, eyelids heavy, barely listening. Who needed artifacts or alchemy when you had the literal imperial mage in your pocket? The only problem was their stagnating harmonization rate. They were just two percent away, yet it felt like a galaxy.

  The thought made Alira groan out loud. “How the hell am I supposed to make that pyromaniac like me more?”

  “Oh! I have some curious little artifacts for you,” Professor Sora said, introducing the first two artifacts Alira’s brain didn’t even bother to register.

  “...Younglings have their own, ahem, problems. Am I right?” Professor Sora cackled in pure glee. “The third prize, while less practical than the first two, should help you with your ‘young people’s problem’. ‘Inch of a Heart’ is an artifact that lets you take one inch toward your, ahem, special little friend. I’m sure some of you are struggling with that one step to get closer.”

  Alira’s ears perked up at that. That sounded very much like what she needed. Huh. What a convenient timing. She double-checked to make sure Hollowed Mirror artifact Bridge was lowered, and that Xia wasn’t sneakily listening, as he often did.

  “Don’t worry. It’s nothing forceful. As far as the evaluation goes, it’s a one-time use artifact that creates a dream-like illusion that will help you and your target grow closer.”

  Oh. Alira was hoping it was forceful. It’d be nice if there were an artifact that could brainwash the strongest mage in Staywes into like her. Still, this sounded good enough to push that two percent up.

  The timing was so perfect, she couldn’t help wondering if any of them had a hand in this. Oh well. Since it was a matter of just a few minutes saved, she supposed she might as well try.

  Alira twisted her neck to sneak a glance at Cinnamon, only to find his gaze on her as he pulled at his hand in a stretch. He really had a staring problem.

  “Let me win?” Alira asked half-jokingly.

  Cinnamon smiled that perfectly soft, perfectly fake smile. “And what do I get if I do?”

  “Never mind. I will just beat you to it, then.” Alira straightened herself back up. She’d wrestled with a deer once. How hard could a bunny be?

  “I will see you try,” Cinnamon said, “and try your best to earn that ticket to the Trial.”

  “Wait, what?” Alira blinked at him in confusion. “How do you know that I’m going to—wait. Are you the one with a connection to that...special place Raine mentioned?”

  Cinnamon pressed a finger to his lips.

  Alira almost blurted out that she and Raine had changed their plan and wouldn’t be taking the Trial until Lillian’s matter had settled, but she caught herself and closed her parted lips.

  She hadn’t had a reason to get to know Cinnamon before. Now she did. It wouldn’t hurt to befriend someone who ties to the underground. Someone who had dived deep enough to know a way to a Trial without involving the alchemy society. That was a depth even established guilds like Mycorrhiza wouldn’t delve into lest they offended the society.

  “All right,” Alira said with a shrug. “Wouldn’t say no to a free ticket. I do like me some free stuff.”

  Cinnamon only laughed once at that. “Sure.”

  After the students warmed up and met their opponents, they were ushered out of the ring except for the first three pairs.

  “Have you done your first Trial?” Alira asked as she took a seat in the fourth row. Their turn wouldn’t come for at least half an hour.

  “Not yet,” Cinnamon answered. “I was planning to do the same with you two since we came to this, but Raine hasn’t reached out to me with a follow-up.”

  Oh. That tracked. It was less likely that he’d forgotten and more that he probably wasn’t going to. Raine wasn’t the type to say what didn’t need saying or do what didn’t need doing. Alira was reminded of every “meet me after class, I have something to tell you” scene he had in the novel. Yours truly protagonist had never once bothered to go to said location.

  “Something came up, so we’ll need more time to decide,” she explained to both of them. Then. Tilting her head, “Also, I’m curious. Since when are you and he so familiar with each other?”

  Cinnamon’s blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully, a thin veil of shadow falling across them from his long lashes. The darkness only sharpened the uncanny gleam in those dull, crystal orbs Alira had noticed from the start.

  “Hmm. Let’s just say he owes me a favor in the passing,” he said at last. “I didn’t think we’d meet again here.”

  “Oh.”

  Alira recalled every scene of the novel, but nothing came up that involved Cinnamon or any bunny boy at all. Did they not end up interacting in the original plot? The plot continued to divert. Before she could ponder further, Professor Sora’s staff slammed down, and six garishly dressed scarecrows, complete with smiles and pointy mage hats, shot up from the sand behind the first round of combatants.

  A wave of confused murmurs rippled through the crowd.

  “I see those confused faces,” Professor Sora’s voice came from behind. The next moment, she emerged at the front with a grin as she paced along the edge of the arena. “You're thinking, 'Why a dummy? I thought we were here to fight each other!'”

  She stopped, leaning on her staff. “Well, I’ll let you in on a secret. Alchemy is never about just one party. Every cast needs two targets. An alchemist alone is as useless as a mage with no mana!”

  A lesson in thinking in pairs. It seemed the objective was to protect the dummy.

  “Remember!” the professor continued, her tone turning sharp. “Alchemy in Combat! Not Alchemic Combat. Most of the time, an alchemist is many things—an acting Soul, a mage, and even a pair of fists.”

  “Alchemy is the tool,” Sora declared, “not the victory itself. You want to punch your opponent? Don’t throw your fist around—Bind them in place and make them walk into the punch!”

  A few students chuckled, the tension easing into focused interest.

  “And for the pragmatists among you,” she said, her voice dropping to a more conventional tone. “Think of your future paychecks. Most of you will make a living as escorts for nobles with enough money to buy themselves an extra life.” She gestured to the dummies. “That is your bag of shiny Lia. Or, for some of you who are nobles,” she added, her gaze sweeping over them, “think of them as your extra life. Your own true body. How you protect that dummy is how you will keep your head attached to your neck when things get real.”

  The arena was silent now, the lesson sinking in. The silly scarecrows suddenly seemed a lot more significant. Alira narrowed her eyes in thought. Alchemy to protect yourself. That was the complete opposite of what she’d been doing all this time. Her goal had always been to destroy.

  “Your goal is simple!” Professor Sora announced, her cheerful boom returning as she raised her staff high. “Protect your dummy. Destroy your opponent’s. Now...let’s see which of you are already a true alchemist!

  “Begin!”