The West Courtyard – Morning
The sun was shining. The birds were singing. The Royal Team was screaming.
Arthev stood in the center of the training grounds, holding a clipboard. Behind him, a massive oak tree stood tall and proud. Tied around its trunk were seven thick, black elastic bands.
The other ends of the bands were tied around the waists of the Royal Team.
"The principle is simple," Arthev explained, his voice calm over the sounds of struggle.
"This is Hooke's Law. Force equals the negative spring constant times the displacement."
"Speak human!" Osler yelled. He was currently digging his claws into the dirt, trying to run forward. The rubber band was stretched tight, vibrating with tension.
"The farther you run," Arthev translated, "the harder the tree pulls you back."
"This isn't training!" Yu Feng shouted. His wings were flapping furiously, creating a dust storm, but he wasn't moving an inch. "This is a torture device for bears!"
"Bears have poor core stability," Arthev noted, writing something on his clipboard. "Push harder. You are only at three meters."
"I... hate... science!" Dugu Yan hissed. Her snake tail was thrashing, trying to find purchase on the ground. She lunged forward, gaining a few inches.
Then, disaster struck.
Osler, the agility master, slipped.
"Oh no," he whispered.
BOING.
The tension released instantly. Osler was launched backward like a stone from a catapult. He flew through the air, flailing his arms.
THWACK.
He slammed into the padded mat Arthev had thoughtfully placed at the base of the tree.
"One down," Arthev said without looking up. "Reset and try again."
"My soul," Osler groaned, peeling his face off the mat. "I think my soul left my body. I saw my grandma. She told me to stop listening to you."
"Hallucinations are a sign of oxygen deprivation," Arthev replied. "Breathe more. Lingling, heal him."
Ye Lingling, who was currently tied to the tree but just walking in place calmly (Arthev gave the support members lighter bands), sighed. A pink petal drifted over to Osler.
"Thanks," Osler mumbled. He stood up, dusted himself off, and looked at the rubber band with pure hatred. "One day, I will cut this thing."
"If you cut it," Arthev warned, "you buy it. That rubber is imported from the Star Luo Empire. It costs two gold coins per meter."
Osler gently patted the band. "Nice rubber. Good rubber. Please don't kill me."
Nearby, the Graphite Brothers were actually enjoying themselves.
"Bro!" Shi Mo yelled. "I feel like a plow!"
"We are farming the dirt!" the other Shi Mu yelled back. They were churning up the grass with their heavy tortoise legs, laughing like maniacs.
Arthev nodded. "At least the turtles are happy."
-------
The Cafeteria – Noon
Spark, currently known as "Cook," stood behind the serving counter. He was vibrating.
He had a plan.
It wasn't an assassination plan. It was a petty plan.
"He thinks he's smart," Spark muttered, stirring a large pot of 'Spicy Mapo Tofu'.
"He thinks he understands chemistry? I'll show him chemistry. I'll show him the chemistry of pain."
He had added a special ingredient to the tofu. Ghost Pepper Extract. It was colorless, odorless, and had the heat equivalent of drinking magma.
The lunch line moved forward. The Royal Team arrived, looking disheveled and traumatized.
"I can't feel my legs," Yu Feng complained. "I feel like I'm walking on springs."
"That's the point," Arthev said, picking up a tray. "Your muscles are compensating."
They reached the counter.
Spark put on his best innocent smile. It looked like a grimace.
"Tofu today!" Spark announced, his voice cracking slightly. "Special recipe! Very... energetic!"
He ladled a massive scoop onto Arthev's plate.
Arthev looked at the tofu. It glistened with oil.
'Alert,' Shukaku said in his mind. 'That smells like fire. Not the element. The flavor. That little rat spiked your lunch.'
'Capsaicin,' Arthev analyzed. 'High concentration.'
Arthev looked at Spark. Spark looked at Arthev, his eyes wide with anticipation. Eat it. Cry. Show me weakness.
Arthev picked up his spoon. He took a bite.
Spark held his breath.
Arthev chewed. He swallowed.
His face didn't change. He didn't sweat. He didn't gasp.
"Hmm," Arthev said thoughtfully.
Spark leaned over the counter. "Well? How is it?"
"It has a bold profile," Arthev said calmly.
"But the heat profile is unbalanced. You used Ghost Peppers, correct? You should add a dash of vinegar to cut the oil. Otherwise, it just tastes like burning rubber."
He took another bite. "Solid effort, though. 6 out of 10."
Arthev walked away to his table.
Spark stood there, frozen. The ladle dropped from his hand.
"Rubber?" Spark squeaked. "He ate liquid fire and compared it to rubber?"
Behind him, the Head Chef walked by and tasted the spoon.
"AAAAAHHH! WATER! MY TONGUE! I SEE DEMONS!" The Head Chef ran around the kitchen, knocking over pans.
Spark sighed. "I hate this school."
--------
The Library – Afternoon
Whisper, currently "Mr. Silas," was shelving books on the third floor. It was peaceful. Quiet.
"Excuse me, sir?"
Whisper turned. A group of first-year girls stood there, giggling.
"Yes?" Whisper asked in his dry, librarian voice.
"Do you have the book 'The Overbearing Prince Falls in Love with the Village Girl?'" one girl asked.
Whisper stared at her. He was a Level 82 Spirit Douluo. An elite spy. A master of shadows.
"That falls under... Fiction," Whisper said slowly. "Section F. Romance."
"Do you recommend it?" another girl asked, batting her eyelashes.
Whisper took a deep breath. "I believe it lacks... structural realism. Princes rarely fall for village girls. Usually, there are political marriages involved."
The girls looked disappointed. "You're no fun, Mr. Silas."
"I am a librarian," Whisper replied. "Fun is against the rules. Please keep your voices down."
As they walked away, Whisper touched his earpiece.
"Spark. Report."
"The target has an iron stomach," Spark's voice came through, sounding defeated.
"He ate the Ghost Pepper Tofu. He critiqued the vinegar balance."
"Focus, Spark," Whisper sighed. "Did he reveal anything?"
"Yeah," Spark grumbled. "He revealed that he's a culinary snob. Also, the Head Chef is currently unconscious in the pantry. I'm in charge of dinner."
"Do not blow up the kitchen."
"I make no promises. The soup is looking at me funny."
----------
The Dormitory – Evening
The Royal Team lay sprawled in the common room of their dorm. They weren't moving.
"I had a dream," Yu Feng mumbled from the floor. "I was a kite. Arthev was holding the string. He wouldn't let me down."
"That wasn't a dream," Dugu Yan said from the couch. "That was this morning."
Arthev walked in. He was holding a tray of steaming mugs.
"Drink," he ordered.
"What is it?" Shi Mo asked suspiciously. "Is it spicy? Is it heavy? Does it explode?"
"It is ginger tea with honey," Arthev said. "It reduces inflammation."
He handed out the mugs. The team accepted them warily, sniffing the steam. It smelled... normal. Good, even.
They took sips. The warmth spread through their aching bodies.
"You know," Yu Tianheng said, sitting up and wincing. "You're a demon during the day. But the tea is good."
"Balance," Arthev said, sitting in an armchair. "Yin and Yang. Pain and recovery."
"So," Osler asked, "what's the plan for tomorrow? Do we fight bears? Do we juggle boulders?"
Arthev smiled. It was a small, genuine smile.
"Tomorrow," Arthev said, "we take a break."
The team froze. Mugs stopped halfway to mouths.
"A... break?" Dugu Yan whispered. "Like... rest?"
"Yes," Arthev nodded.
"Muscle growth happens during rest, not training. Tomorrow is a recovery day. You are forbidden from running, lifting, or using spirit power. You will sleep, eat, and maybe read a book."
Shi Mo started crying. Actual tears. "He's an angel. He was wearing a demon mask, but he's an angel."
"Don't get used to it," Arthev added, taking a sip of his tea. "Because the day after tomorrow, we start 'The Gauntlet'."
"The Gauntlet?" Yu Feng asked, his fear returning instantly.
"It involves mud," Arthev said. "And logs. And me throwing things at you."
The team groaned in unison.
Arthev leaned back in his chair. He could sense the "Chef" watching the dorm from a tree outside.
Let them watch.
Tonight, there was tea. Tomorrow, there was rest.
And after that... there was mud.
Life at the academy was peaceful. Ridiculous, painful, and chaotic. But peaceful.
'You're having fun,' Shukaku accused him.
Arthev looked at his teammates, bruised, complaining, but drinking his tea with smiles on their faces.
'Maybe,' Arthev thought. 'Just a little.'
To be continued...