Vix stood alone in a luxurious room.

  The space was modern and minimalist—only a single sharp-edged yet plush sofa and a bamboo-colored table resting in front of it. Vix preferred to stand.

  Warm, soft daylight LEDs ran through the room, casting a gentle glow that did nothing to soften his cold aura.

  The door opened, and Benneth walked in, panting.

  Vix didn’t turn. His gaze remained fixed on the massive floor-to-ceiling window, the city stretching endlessly beyond it.

  Benneth collapsed into one of the velvet sofa, slouched deep into it. His tie hung loose around his neck, sleeves rolled up, hair sticking out in every direction—like he’d fought a hurricane and barely survived.

  His eyes were red.

  His breathing uneven.

  Benneth leaned forward, squinting at Vix.

  “…Good gods, man. You look like shit.”

  Vix’s eye twitched.

  “I look fine.”

  “You look like someone kidnapped you, threw you down a flight of stairs, raised you back up with necromancy, and then sent you to class.” Benneth gestured broadly at Vix’s face. “There are under your eyes. I’ve seen dissertations with fewer dark circles.”

  Vix shuddered subtly, turning his head away.

  “It’s been a long year.”

  “Oh yeah? Here I thought I was the only one! Haha—” Benneth coughed at the end.

  “What do you want.”

  Vix finally turned to face him.

  They both froze.

  “…You don’t look any better yourself, Director.”

  “Fuck off.”

  Vix squinted at him, annoyed.

  “…Don’t tell me we’re about to unknowingly perform a therapy session for each other again.”

  “Seems that way.”

  Benneth gripped the top of his cane with both hands before leaning back into the sofa. “So, allow me to guess. You’re still at war with a twelve-year-old child, your boss wants you to finally understand the meaning of a woman’s touch, and your coworkers are either busy, lost to the cosmos, or have become myth more than people.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Vix tilted his head slightly. “My turn. You’re juggling pressure from my boss, the boss of all mankind, and the man you pray never takes power is currently winning—largely because one of those you trusted has indeed become a myth.” He waved a hand lazily, dismissive. “And somewhere in there, you also want better relations with said twelve-year-old child.”

  Benneth stared at him flatly.

  Vix stared back—just as cold.

  The brightness of his green eyes had dimmed.

  “…When was the last time you slept, boy?”

  Vix didn’t move.

  Didn’t blink.

  Didn’t answer.

  That silence worried Benneth more than anything he’d said.

  “…Sit,” Benneth sighed. “Please. You’re making me anxious.”

  Vix closed his eyes, exhaled, then finally crossed the room—taking the far end of the sofa, as distant from Benneth as possible.

  “The elections for the open Director position conclude in three days. Staffire hasn’t appeared once all year to make his case. I’m pretty sure even Alphonse is starting to crack from the anticipation.”

  “Think that might be his plan?”

  Benneth slowly turned his head toward Vix.

  “…How is it that he’s your captain, you’re part of the Staffire Squad—the Grand Majestry’s sword, group of five people in the world—and you have

  what he’s thinking?”

  Vix scoffed, dragging a gloved hand through his hair.

  “…At this point, I—”

  He blinked, stopping himself.

  “…What if it his plan?” Vix continued quietly. “What if he’s trying to force us all to stop believing in him?”

  Benneth stared at him.

  Then—

  “Shut the up.”

  He stood abruptly. “You are going to promise me you’ll sleep tonight. Seven—no—nine hours. Full rest. I don’t care how.”

  “Yes, Director…”

  Vix slouched back into the sofa, defeated.

  “Well…” Benneth muttered, exhaling as he walked toward the massive window. Below them, the track buzzed with activity—racers in the staging zone, crews making final adjustments, engines humming in anticipation.

  “The race will be starting soon.”

  He scanned the track.

  “Do you think Chippy will win?”

  “She’s proven herself already,” Vix said, lifting his head. “She hasn’t lost a single race. What are the odds she loses this one?”

  Benneth didn’t answer at first. His eyes searched the crowd—then narrowed slightly.

  “Oh yeah?” he said quietly. “Then tell me, Commander… what do you think you’re here for? To referee?”

  “…You catch on fast.”

  Benneth shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

  “Heh. I want to see Rin. I’ll go check on her.”

  “I need to inspect the track one more time,” Vix replied.

  Benneth paused at the door.

  “Be sure to focus when you cast your domain.”

  Vix snorted softly, rubbing the back of his head as he followed him out of the VIP room.

  “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

  #

  Alvie fiddled with his gear.

  Well— to.

  There wasn’t anything left to improve. At least, nothing that would actually help him in race. He set his wrench down with a quiet, defeated sigh and glanced around. His helmet still rested on top of his gear, untouched.

  “Alvie, are you done making your adjustments?” Rin’s voice chimed through the speaker in his ear.

  “Y-Yes!” Alvie answered instantly, a little too fast.

  “Oh… alright, cool! Don’t worry—just focus on keeping up with Chippy and helping her win this race, okay? Just like we planned!”

  “Yup!”

  His earpiece buzzed again, Eddie cutting in.

  “And, uh… try to actually take the shortcuts we call out this time, man.”

  “Y-Yup! Will do!” Alvie laughed nervously, forcing confidence into his voice.

  Once Rin and Eddie stopped speaking, he clicked the earpiece off. Just for a moment. Just long enough to breathe without their voices filling his head.

  That’s when he noticed Chippy.

  She was crouched beneath her hoverbike, wrench in hand, completely absorbed as she made minute adjustments. No hesitation. No second-guessing. Just focus.

  Alvie swallowed and walked over.

  “Ch-Chippy?” he called softly.

  “Hm?” she replied without looking up.

  “Er… um. I actually—uh—wanted to ask you something. If that’s okay.”

  “Huh?” Chippy rolled out from under the bike and sat up, wiping her forehead with a cloth. “What is it?”

  “How do you… you know…” He fidgeted, eyes darting away. “How do you ?”

  “Do… it?” Chippy tilted her head, genuinely confused.

  “Yeah… like, how do you stay so… confident when you’re racing?”

  “Oh!” Chippy hopped up from her seat on the floor, grinning devilishly. “It’s easy! You just be the best and it!”

  “Huh?” Alvie blurted. That was… nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  “Yeah, dude! You just see what you want, reach out, and take it!”

  “That— that doesn’t help!” he protested. “That’s not even how the world works!”

  “Well,” Chippy shrugged, “that’s how it works for me.”

  “But not everyone is like you!”

  “I know,” she chirped, smiling innocently.

  Alvie stared at her, genuinely dumbfounded.

  But as he kept looking, he noticed something else.

  Chippy only held his gaze for a moment before her eyes drifted—down to the floor, then to her gloves, turning her hands as if admiring them for the first time. It wasn’t dismissive. Not rude. She wasn’t ignoring him.

  She was grounding herself.

  She didn’t move away. Didn’t step back. She stayed right there, humming softly under her breath, perfectly at ease with herself.

  She wasn’t confident because she tried to be.

  She just .

  Something inside Alvie pulsed.

  His mouth opened, ready to say… .

  Nothing came out.

  Then—

  BUZZ—

  “Ah! Time to mount up, cowboy!” Chippy laughed, punching his shoulder. “Let’s win this race!”

  “R-Right!” Alvie replied, rubbing his shoulder where she’d hit him.

  He climbed onto his gear, heart still racing—not from fear this time, but from the words she’d said.

  Somehow… he couldn’t shake them.

  #

  “ALLVVIIEEEE!!!” Rin practically screeched into the microphone. Eddie was already on the floor fumbling to yank his headset off as she accidentally blasted the all-channel.

  “YOU MISSED YOUR TURN!”

  “I KNOW, I KNOW!” Alvie shouted back, leaning hard to the right as his hoverbike scraped dangerously close to the guard rail. Wind tore at him, Seoul blurring past in vertical streaks of glass and light.

  “UGHHH! IF IT DIDN’T HURT SO MUCH, I’D PULL ALL OF MY HAIR OUT!!!” Rin yelled.

  “ALVIE! JUST TAKE THE TURN NEXT TIME! WE NEED YOU TO TAKE THAT FREAKING SHORTCUT!!!” Eddie barked.

  The track surged upward onto an elevated stretch, the Han River flashing beneath him like a sheet of black glass. Neon signs whipped past his visor, reflections fracturing across it so badly he could barely tell what was real anymore.

  Racers crowded him from both sides.

  Too close.

  Too fast.

  Someone clipped his wake and screamed as their bike fishtailed. Alvie’s stomach lurched. His hands started shaking.

  Chippy was still ahead — a bright, impossible dot cutting clean lines through chaos. Drenco wasn’t far behind her. Second place. Always second place.

  Alvie swallowed.

  The next shortcut was coming up.

  He knew it.

  Rin would call it out in three seconds.

  Two.

  One—

  “ALVIE—LEFT! LEFT NOW!” Rin shouted.

  He saw it.

  A sharp dip between two lanes, barely wide enough for a single bike. A maintenance drop that would fling him forward if he committed properly.

  His heart slammed into his ribs.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  A racer cut in front of him.

  Another surged up on his blind side.

  Wind turbulence slammed his bike sideways.

  His vision tunneled.

  His brain screamed

  He hesitated.

  Just for a fraction of a second.

  And that fraction cost him everything.

  He missed the shortcut.

  “No—!” Rin choked out.

  Alvie flew past the opening, chest tight, throat burning. His grip loosened for half a second before he forced it back, breathing sharp and uneven inside his helmet.

  “I—I’m sorry,” he whispered, even though no one could hear him now.

  The track plunged downward into a neon-lit corridor, signs glowing red and blue as racers screamed past like missiles. Alvie tucked low, chasing Chippy’s tail, forcing himself to stay close even as his thoughts spiraled.

  His gear jolted.

  Not a crash.

  A mistake.

  But not a disaster either.

  He corrected it.

  Kept going.

  Stayed in the race.

  And for the first time, something inside him shifted.

  He hadn’t frozen completely.

  He hadn’t given up.

  He was still here.

  Alvie clicked his mic back on, voice shaky but present.

  “…I’ll try again!”

  There was a pause.

  Then Rin’s voice came back — quieter now. Controlled. Still intense.

  “…Okay! Stay with us! We only have one more lap!”

  Alvie nodded even though she couldn’t see him, eyes locked forward as Seoul opened up ahead of him once more.

  The city dropped away beneath the track.

  They burst into a canyon of light—towering skyscrapers on both sides, holographic ads flickering overhead, the road splitting and rejoining like a living thing. The air buzzed with magic and engines, the hum vibrating straight through his bones.

  Something past his left ear.

  A red streak.

  “TAKE THIS!” someone screamed behind him.

  Alvie barely had time to react before the projectile slammed into the track ahead and detonated in a harmless—but violently concussive—burst. The shockwave rattled his hoverbike, throwing off his balance just long enough for two racers to surge past him.

  “NO—!” he yelped, fighting the handlebars.

  His HUD flared with warning symbols.

  Another racer pulled up on his right, grinning behind their visor, and flicked their wrist.

  A lightning pulse crackled forward.

  “NO—!” Alvie squeezed his eyes shut just as the pulse went off, blinding white light flooding his vision for half a second. When his sight returned, the world tilted.

  Too fast.

  Too many people.

  Someone dropped a scatter disk ahead—harmless, but cruel. The disk burst into a cloud of glowing green dust causing Alvie to lose complete visibility in front of him once he plunged into the smoke screen.

  Alvie swerved instinctively.

  “ALVIE—STEADY!” Eddie shouted in his ear.

  He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to straighten out, breathing sharp and fast.

  Up ahead—

  Chippy.

  Still first.

  Still fearless.

  She weaved through chaos like she owned it, laughing as she vaulted over a split ramp without hesitation.

  And right behind her—

  Drenco.

  Too close.

  His bike cut clean, precise lines, never wasting movement. He didn’t use items recklessly. He didn’t need to. He stayed glued to Chippy’s tail like a shadow that refused to disappear.

  Rin’s voice came back, tight with urgency.

  “Alvie—he’s right on her! If he fires anything now, she won’t have room to dodge!”

  Alvie’s heart hammered.

  Drenco lifted his arm.

  And for a moment, the world froze.

  This was it.

  Do or die.

  The difference between Chippy standing with a gold medal or a silver one rested on him. Not her.

  It was unfair.

  Not just because she had fought so hard—brave, relentless, fearless—but because her victory didn’t even belong to her anymore. It depended on him. On his hands. On his nerves.

  And it was cruel that the world had forced such an impossible responsibility onto someone like him.

  “ALVIE!!! TAKE THE TURN!”

  “ALVIE!!! BOOST OFF THE RAMP—NOW!!!”

  The voices blurred together, collapsing into noise. He couldn’t tell who was shouting anymore. Rin. Eddie. Someone else. Everyone.

  All he could see was the ramp.

  The impossible jump.

  The rings hanging in the air like the final void.

  His vision wavered. Tears welled up, hot and unbidden. He couldn’t even lift his fingers to wipe them away. That was how unforgiving this moment was.

  He didn’t realize it—but his breathing had stopped.

  How long had it been?

  Seconds? Minutes?

  Hours wouldn’t have surprised him.

  “—Alvie!”

  His name echoed again. From everywhere. From nowhere.

  His gear aligned automatically. The bike adjusted. The systems did their part.

  Now it was his turn.

  He had to decide.

  But his choices were always wrong.

  Every time he trusted himself, something broke. Someone fell behind. Someone paid the price.

  And here—

  There was only one right move.

  But did he have it in him to make it?

  It wasn’t even his move to make anyway.

  “…You just see what you want, reach out, and take it!”

  Chippy’s voice flooded his head—clear as day.

  Her relentless smile. Not something she wore out of politeness or obligation. Not to show compassion. Not to meet some invisible social rule.

  She smiled because she to.

  That was it.

  She wasn’t being forced. She wasn’t performing. She wasn’t doing the “right” thing.

  She was just being herself.

  And right now—more than anything in the world—Alvie wanted to help her win.

  Not because Rin asked him to.

  Not because Eddie believed in him.

  Not because the world demanded it.

  Because wanted to.

  And if hitting that ramp was the way forward—then he’d hit the darn ramp.

  Alvie’s eyes narrowed.

  He punched into third gear.

  His airship responded instantly—the wings folding back as mana surged through the conduits, converting cleanly into thrust. A violent rush of air snapped beneath him—

  —and he blasted through the turn.

  Up the ramp.

  Into the first air ring.

  A clean hit.

  On instinct he switched to second gear. The wings of his airship spreading out to catch and hold as much air as it possibly could underneath him.

  The second followed—dead center.

  Then the third.

  The fourth. This time crashing through an item bubble.

  Air caught beneath him like he’d grown wings and learned how to fly in the same breath. He tore through the massive loop ahead, skipping it entirely—

  —and when his gear stabilized again, he was in first place.

  He blinked.

  What… just happened?

  The realization hit him all at once. His grip loosened. Just a little. Enough for the gear to drift, enough for speed to bleed away.

  His hands were trembling.

  He looked back.

  Two streaks cut through the track behind him—orange-white and pink.

  Drenco. Frozen.

  His hand still outstretched toward empty air as Chippy slipped cleanly out of his line, exploiting the opening without hesitation.

  Then the voices returned.

  But they weren’t angry.

  They weren’t shouting.

  They were—

  Cheering.

  “ALVIEEEEEE!!!”

  “YOU DID IT!”

  “…Huh? I did? What did I—”

  Chippy blasted past Alvie in a blur of pink.

  Drenco surged after her.

  Alvie blinked—then grit his teeth and slammed his thrusters to max throttle.

  “Oh no you !” he shouted through clenched teeth.

  The track straightened.

  Staging zone ahead.

  Finish line in sight.

  Drenco raised his hand.

  He pointed straight at Chippy.

  “ALVIE! HE’S GOING TO HIT CHIPPY!” Rin screamed.

  Too late.

  Drenco fired.

  So did Alvie.

  The last item bubble Alvie had clipped burst open—revealing a red bullet, identical to Drenco’s.

  No hesitation.

  He fired with one intent only.

  The two projectiles met mid-air—

  

  A harmless poof of red smoke bloomed between them.

  Both bullets vanished.

  Chippy crossed the finish line.

  #

  Alvie and Chippy were thrown into the air again and again until Alvie genuinely thought he might throw up.

  “PUT ME DOWN—PUT ME DOWN—” he wheezed, clutching his stomach.

  Too late.

  Nearly the entirety of the South House freshmen had swarmed them—cheering, laughing, chanting incoherent nonsense that barely resembled words. Someone lifted Chippy onto their shoulders. Someone else tried to lift Alvie too and immediately regretted it when he nearly toppled them both over.

  Chippy laughed like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  She didn’t cry. She didn’t shake. She didn’t even look overwhelmed.

  She raised a fist in the air.

  “FIRST PLACE, BABY!” she shouted. “I TOLD YOU ALL!”

  More cheers erupted.

  This—this was her element. Noise. Victory. Momentum. She thrived in it, soaking it all in like sunlight, already talking over everyone at once.

  “We swept it! Clean sweep! Nine races! Nine! Did you SEE Drenco’s face? He looked like his soul left his body!”

  She laughed harder.

  Alvie, on the other hand—

  Alvie had collapsed onto a bench the moment he was free.

  He stared at his hands.

  They were still shaking.

  He blinked once.

  Then twice.

  And then the tears came out of nowhere.

  “I—I didn’t mess it up…” he whispered, voice breaking. “I didn’t mess it up…”

  Rin froze when she heard him.

  She turned.

  Saw his face.

  And immediately burst into tears herself.

  “YOU DID IT!” she sobbed, sprinting toward him and throwing her arms around his neck. “YOU DID IT, ALVIE! I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT!”

  “I DIDN’T EVEN THINK!” he cried back. “I JUST—IT JUST HAPPENED!”

  They clung to each other, both crying, both laughing, both an absolute mess.

  Eddie stared at them.

  Then slowly pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “…I refuse to believe these are the same people who screamed at me about shortcuts for nine weeks straight.”

  Chippy snorted. “Yeah. Kinda gross.”

  “Right? Like—should we step in? Or—”

  “Nope.” Chippy shrugged. “Let ‘em cry it out.”

  Rin finally pulled back just enough to wipe her face, still smiling so hard it hurt. Her eyes drifted past the crowd—

  And then she saw him.

  Oby stood near the back, half-hidden behind a railing. He wasn’t cheering. Wasn’t shouting.

  He was just clapping.

  Softly. Earnestly. He had actually shown up.

  When Rin caught his eyes, she lit up.

  She waved both arms over her head.

  Oby startled—then smiled, awkward and small—and waved back.

  That was enough.

  Rin turned back to the chaos, heart warm, tears still drying on her cheeks.

  They had won.

  Not just the race.

  “Hey.”

  Rin turned as Eddie’s hand landed on her shoulder.

  “Come on! We’ve gotta go show these medals off to our House Master,” he said, already half-walking. Then he glanced at Chippy, eyes sparkling. “And then? We’re switching houses.”

  Rin giggled. “Right! And don’t forget who won us everything!”

  “Me?” Chippy asked innocently, pointing to herself as she flashed her gold medal at Rin.

  “Nope! Alvieeee!

  “Huh,” Eddie snorted. “She say she’d throttle him.”

  Alvie’s eyes rolled slightly as the world tilted. “R-Really, it was nothing! I just… I thought about what you said, Chippy. About wanting what you want… then reaching out and just… taking it.”

  “Huh?” Chippy tilted her head. “I said that?”

  “Y-Yes! On the track! When I asked you for help!” Alvie insisted, fists clenched like the memory itself might slip away.

  “…Don’t remember.”

  Alvie visibly deflated—half from exhaustion, half from simply accepting that Chippy existed like this.

  Rin and Eddie burst out laughing. Rin wiped at her eyes again, still smiling, when she noticed a familiar figure in the distance.

  “…Uncle Remmy…” she breathed.

  Eddie followed her gaze and waved. Benneth spotted them immediately and waved back, smiling.

  “Heh. Even your Director uncle showed up,” Eddie teased.

  “He did! Wait—that must mean…” Rin’s eyes widened. “…Mister Vix might be here too…”

  She waved back at Benneth, then jogged toward him. “Don’t wait up for me! I’ll catch you guys soon!”

  “R-Rin?! Wait!” Eddie called—but it was too late.

  Another swarm of South House freshmen descended on them at once.

  “Wasn’t that shortcut illegal?!”

  “Who called the final maneuver?!”

  “I-I swear I’m only the co-coach!” Eddie stammered. “Rin was the main coach!”

  “That airhead led us to victory?!” one kid blurted.

  “Actually,” Chippy said flatly, shoving him back, “my name was first place in every race. Not hers.”

  Alvie froze, overwhelmed—

  —until Eddie placed a steady hand on his shoulder, laughing.

  Alvie exhaled.

  And for the first time today, he let himself relax.

  Meanwhile, Rin ran up to Benneth.

  He let out a jolly laugh and motioned for her to follow him around the corner. She did so eagerly, nearly bouncing on her heels.

  Her mind raced. She couldn’t wait to spill everything to him—the race, Alvie, Chippy, the win. And maybe—just maybe—Mister Vix would be just around the corner. With Uncle Remmy on her side, he’d to listen.

  She turned the corner.

  And blinked.

  Where did Uncle Remmy go?

  “—Oof!”

  The floor vanished beneath her.

  Rin yelped as she dropped through a hidden hatch, tumbling head over heels down a narrow chute. She rolled, slammed, rolled again—until she was spat out into a cramped tunnel beneath the hallway above.

  Grated vents lined the walls at intervals, thin bars of light cutting through the dust-choked air.

  She coughed violently, sucking in far more dust than she meant to. Her head throbbed. She rubbed at it—

  —and suddenly, something shoved her again.

  She cried out as she rolled across the cold floor and skidded to a stop. Instinct took over. She spun, planting her hands beneath her and scrambling upright—

  —and froze.

  Benneth stood there.

  “…Uncle Remmy?” she whispered.

  He stepped forward.

  Something was wrong.

  “Finally,” he said, his voice wrong—flat, sharp. “I can’t afford for this to end like . So guess what?”

  Rin blinked.

  Just once.

  And in that instant, Benneth became Drenco.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  “Wh—what…?”

  Drenco didn’t answer.

  He advanced on her, brisk and merciless. His foot swung out—

  Rin dodged just in time.

  “Stay still, you little brat!” he hissed.

  Her heart slammed against her ribs.

  “Who—what—” she stammered, but the words never made it out.

  Drenco’s fist smashed into the steel wall where her head had been a second earlier. The impact rang through the tunnel. Rin gasped, losing her footing, falling hard onto her back.

  She looked up—

  Drenco already had his wand drawn.

  Fire pooled at its tip, bright and hungry.

  “I need to get rid of you, Rin,” he said coldly. “You’re too much of a pain in my side to simply expel.”

  “D-Drenco?!”

  Her voice cracked—but her eyes hardened.

  Drenco lunged first.

  He thrust his wand forward, unleashing a wave of fire down the tunnel. Rin scrambled backward, heat scorching the air where she’d been a heartbeat earlier. She rolled onto her side, pushed up with a sudden burst of adrenaline—

  —and fired back.

  A firebolt.

  Drenco countered instantly. His own bolt slammed into hers midair, exploding into sparks and heat.

  Rin’s breath hitched.

  “H-How did—”

  “Surprised?” Drenco snarled.

  His pupils were pinpricks, vibrating with intensity. His arm trembled as he tightened his grip on his wand, his entire body wound so tight it felt like it might snap. Whatever was driving him—whatever poison was flooding his veins—Rin felt it pulling her under too.

  “I practiced,” he shouted, voice cracking. “Every. Single. Day. After our duel, I trained with my father!”

  He advanced.

  “All I could see was that fight! Over and over! I wanted—no—I

  to overpower you!”

  Rin retreated immediately, feet sliding over the metal floor as she tracked every twitch of his body. When he broke into a brisk walk, closing the distance—

  She whipped her wand sideways.

  Ice screamed into existence.

  A massive icicle formed in an instant, slamming from wall to wall, blocking nearly two-thirds of the tunnel as it locked itself in place with a deafening crack.

  Drenco stopped.

  He stared at his reflection in the ice.

  The sight made Rin’s stomach twist.

  That pressure again.

  Her knees weakened.

  She’d felt it before—when her had forced her toward the altar. When her breath had vanished from her lungs. When Britlex had unleashed spell after spell meant to kill her and everyone she cared about.

  She wouldn’t freeze this time.

  Rin raised her wand and cast again.

  And again.

  More ice surged forward—thick shards, layered barricades, jagged and uneven—wedging themselves into the walls as she continued backing away, never once breaking eye contact.

  “I know a lot more than you now, Miss Nepton,” Drenco said coldly, his voice echoing through the tunnel.

  Rin grit her teeth and conjured even more ice in response.

  By the time she was finished, she had nearly backed herself to the end of the tunnel.

  With every frantic step backward, she had wedged more ice between herself and Drenco. Now there was nowhere left to go. Her back hit the cold wall. She panted for air, chest burning, legs shaking.

  Drenco stopped.

  Then—calmly—he took four steps back.

  He raised his wand.

  A red orb pooled at its tip.

  It shifted to orange.

  Then yellow.

  Then white.

  The air hissed.

  The sound sharpened into something worse—a high-pitched grinding shriek, like a blade being honed endlessly against a spinning grindstone.

  The spell fired.

  A razor-thin jet of pure fire tore through the tunnel, punching through every single ice barrier Rin had created—one after another—slightly faster than a bullet.

  The beam screamed past her face.

  Rin froze.

  Her heart slammed so violently against her chest it hurt. The wall behind her scorched where the spell struck, heat radiating outward. If she hadn’t been pressed against the far side of it—if she’d been standing even a step forward—

  She would be dead.

  Her legs finally gave out.

  Rin slid down the wall, breath coming in broken gasps.

  When she looked back up—

  Drenco was already walking toward her.

  Snow and shattered ice crunched beneath his boots as he stepped over the ruins of her defenses. Every last icicle she had summoned lay obliterated, reduced to slush and steam.

  “What’d you think of that?” he said casually. “It’s a multi-step spell, idiot.”

  He kept walking.

  “Something kids our age don’t even yet.”

  Rin clutched her chest, fingers digging into her uniform as she struggled to breathe. Her body trembled uncontrollably now.

  Fear had her completely.

  The look in Drenco’s eyes—

  It was the same.

  The same emptiness.

  The same disregard like Britlex.

  He wouldn’t have cared if she died.

  He wouldn’t have cared if he lived the rest of his life knowing he’d killed her.

  Drenco had caught up to her.

  Rin was still pressed against the wall, lungs hitching as frantic gasps and soft whimpers escaped her. Her eyes were wide, glassy with terror. Her hand trembled violently around her wand, fingers barely able to hold it upright.

  Drenco stood over her.

  Centered in the tunnel.

  Perfectly still.

  Impossibly cold.

  He raised his wand and aimed it at her without hesitation.

  “Such a pathetic little girl…” he said.

  Rin’s breath caught. Her head shook in small, jerky motions—no, no, no—without her even realizing she was doing it.

  “You disgust me,” Drenco continued flatly. “I will always regret the day I met you. Right up until my grave.”

  A red orb began to pool at the tip of his wand.

  Rin recognized the spell immediately.

  Her chest tightened painfully as dread crushed down on her. Her vision blurred. This wasn’t a warning. This wasn’t a threat.

  This was her final painful moments right here.