Three weeks into the Academy routine. Three weeks of the same monotonous cycle.
Morning classes where I played the struggling student. Afternoons watching other students get recruited into clubs, build social circles, and establish themselves. Evenings alone in Training Room 13, pushing my actual limits where nobody could see.
It was peaceful. Isolated. Exactly what I needed.
Until it wasn't.
I was midway through a drill, practicing transitions between Asura's chaotic forms and traditional techniques, when the door to Training Room 13 opened.
I stopped mid-strike, turned.
Three students stood in the doorway. All were wearing the distinctive silver trim on their uniforms that marked Diamond Dorm residents. Second-years, based on the subtle differences in their uniform design.
The one in front was tall, maybe six feet, with perfectly styled blonde hair and cold blue eyes. His uniform was immaculate, expensive-looking even by Academy standards. Everything about him screamed wealth and privilege.
Behind him stood two others—both large, muscular, clearly enforcers rather than leaders. They flanked him like guards.
"You," the blonde one said, his voice dripping with entitlement. "Name and year."
"Aldric Ashford. First-year." I lowered my practice sword. "Can I help you?"
"Ashford. Duke's son from..." He paused, searching his memory. "Ravenhold? Distant territory. Weak magical affinity. Stone Dorm placement." His lip curled in disgust. "I'm Theodore Valemont. Second son of First Prince Matthias Valemont. And you're wasting Academy resources."
Prince's grandson. Of course.
"I reserved this training room properly," I said carefully. "I'm not violating any rules."
"Rules." He said it like the word tasted bad. "You think rules matter? You're weak. Demonstrated weak fire affinity. Placed in Stone Dorm with commoners. And you're using an advanced training room that could be utilized by someone actually worth teaching."
"Oh, I don't like him," Asura said in my head. "I really don't like him. Can we kill him?"
No.
"These training rooms are available to all students," I said aloud. "First-come, first-served."
"That's the problem." Theodore walked closer, his guards following. "Resources should go to those with noble blood. Those with power. Not weak embarrassments who disgrace their family names by associating with commoners."
His guards chuckled. Clearly they'd heard this speech before.
"I'll be done in an hour," I said, turning back to my practice. "You can use the room then."
"I'm not asking you to finish. I'm telling you to leave. Now."
I continued my form, ignoring him. The practice sword moved through the air in controlled arcs.
Theodore's footsteps came closer. "Did you hear me? I said..."
"I heard you." I completed the form, turned to face him. "And I'm declining. This room is mine for another hour. Find another one."
His face flushed red. Clearly, he wasn't used to being refused.
"Do you have any idea who I am? My father is First Prince Matthias. My grandfather is the Emperor. My family controls half the empire's military. And you a failure from a distant territory, dare refuse me?"
"Yes."
The single word hung in the air.
Theodore's eyes narrowed. "Then I challenge you to a duel. Right now. Winner takes the training room."
"I decline."
"He's baiting you," Asura warned. "Trying to force a confrontation. Don't take it."
I'm not.
"You... decline?" Theodore looked genuinely shocked. "You refuse a duel challenge? Do you understand what that means for your family's honor?"
"I understand perfectly. And I still decline."
In a noble society, refusing a duel challenge was a mark of cowardice. A stain on family honor. But accepting a duel I'd lose would be worse. And I couldn't use my real skills without revealing too much.
Better to be called a coward than expose myself.
Theodore's shock turned to contempt. "I see. You're not just weak. You're a coward. A disgrace to noble blood." He looked at his guards. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. Noble lineage wasted on someone without the spirit to back it up. He's no better than a commoner."
He stepped closer, and I saw the shift in his demeanor. From an entitled noble to something meaner.
"If you won't duel with honor," he said quietly, "then we'll handle this another way."
"Theodore..." one of his guards started.
"He refused a challenge. He has no honor to protect." Theodore's smile was cruel. "And nobody will care what happens to a weak, cowardly noble who rooms with commoners."
The first punch came fast.
I could have dodged. Could have blocked. Could have countered.
But I didn't.
Theodore's fist connected with my jaw, snapping my head to the side. Pain exploded through my face.
"FIGHT BACK!" Asura screamed in my head. "What are you doing?! Block him!"
The second punch hit my stomach. I doubled over, gasping.
The guards joined in. One kicked my legs out from under me. I hit the ground hard.
"ALDRIC! Use my power! Use the dagger! Use SOMETHING!"
No.
More kicks. More punches. They weren't holding back. Three on one, beating someone who wasn't fighting back.
I curled up on the floor, arms over my head. Trying to protect vital areas. Taking the hits.
"Why won't you fight?! You can beat them! At your current level you'd lose to Theodore one-on-one, but you could escape! You could defend yourself!"
This is karma.
"What?!"
For everything Kenji did. For everything I did to Sera. This is what I deserve.
I'd believed in this same ideology. Might makes right. The strong stand on top. The weak get crushed beneath them.
I'd crushed people. Hurt them. Broken them. All because I could. Because I was stronger.
Now I was the weak one. And someone stronger was crushing me.
This was justice. This was karma. This was exactly what I deserved.
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! Kenji was an asshole but Aldric isn't him! Fight back!"
I can't.
The beating continued. I tasted blood. Felt ribs crack. Everything hurt.
"Pathetic," Theodore spat. "You're not even trying. What kind of noble are you?"
"The weak kind," I managed to say through split lips. "The kind that deserves this."
He kicked me in the side. Hard.
Then....
"That's enough."
A new voice. Deep. Commanding. Absolutely authoritative.
The beating stopped.
I cracked one eye open, saw polished boots step into my limited field of vision.
"Lucas Hartwell, Third-Year Representative," the voice continued. "And what exactly is happening here?"
"Lucas...I mean, Senior Lucas." Theodore's voice had changed completely. Respectful now. Uncertain. "We were just,this first year refused a duel challenge. He has no honor, so we were."
"So you were jumping a first-year three-on-one in a training room. Does that sound honorable to you?"
Silence.
"I asked you a question, Theodore."
"No, Senior. It doesn't."
"Then I suggest you and your friends leave. Now. Before I report this to the disciplinary committee."
"But he refused...."
"I don't care if he refused to bow to the Emperor himself. Jumping your Junior is probably against Academy rules. Leave. Now."
Footsteps retreated. The door opened, closed. They were gone.
Then those polished boots came closer. Knelt down.
"Hey. Can you move?"
I forced myself to look up.
Lucas Hartwell.
He'd grown. A lot. Easily six foot four now, broad-shouldered, filled out from the sixteen-year-old I'd dueled two years ago. His face had matured, lost the last traces of boyishness. His hazel eyes looked concerned, genuine.
He was handsome. Objectively, undeniably handsome. The kind of looks that made people stop and stare.
And he was offering me his hand.
"Come on. Let me help you up."
I wanted to refuse. Wanted to stay on the floor and rot. Wanted anyone but him to be the one who saved me.
But my body had other ideas. Survival instinct made me reach out.
Lucas pulled me up easily, supporting my weight as my legs wobbled. I couldn't look at him. Couldn't meet his eyes.
"You took quite a beating," he said, examining my face with clinical concern. "Nothing looks broken, but you should visit the infirmary. Get those ribs checked."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're bleeding and probably have cracked ribs." His voice remained gentle, patient. Like he was talking to a frightened animal. "Come on. I'll walk you to the infirmary."
"I said I'm fine." I pulled away from his support, nearly fell, caught myself on the wall. "Thank you for the help. I can manage from here."
"At least let me..."
"I'm fine!" It came out harsher than intended. "Just... just leave me alone."
Lucas studied me for a long moment. Those hazel eyes seeing too much. Understanding too much.
"You're Aldric Ashford," he said finally. "From the entrance ceremony. Weak fire affinity. Stone Dorm."
Of course he'd remember. Probably remembered every first-year. That's what competent third-year representatives did.
"Yes."
"And you refused Theodore's duel challenge."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Because I'd lose. Because I can't show my real skills without revealing dark magic. Because accepting would have been worse than refusing. Because I'm a coward and a failure and I deserve to be beaten.
"Personal reasons," I said instead.
"Fair enough." Lucas stepped back, giving me space. "But for future reference, Theodore Valemont is trouble. He's obsessed with power hierarchies and noble blood supremacy. Thinks anyone with weak magic doesn't deserve to be here. He's dangerous to students he perceives as beneath him."
"I noticed."
"If he bothers you again, report it. Or come find me. I'm Third-Year Representative for combat students. It's literally my job to handle situations like this."
He was being nice. Genuinely, sincerely nice. Offering protection like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Senior and junior. That's all this was to him. An upperclassman helping a struggling first-year.
He didn't recognize me. Didn't remember the pathetic noble who'd broken Sera's wrist and lost a duel two years ago. Why would he? That had been one incident among probably hundreds during his time at Academy prep functions.
I was nobody to him. Just another struggling student who needed help.
Somehow that made it worse.
"I appreciate the offer," I managed to say. "But I can handle it."
"Clearly," Lucas said dryly, gesturing at my bruised and bloody state. Then his expression softened. "Look, I'm not trying to insult you. I just... I know what it's like being an outsider here. It's hard. You don't have to do it alone."
"I'm not an outsider. I'm exactly where I belong." Stone Dorm. With the weak students. The failures. The ones who don't matter.
Lucas sighed. "Alright. Your choice. But the offer stands. If you need help, ask. That's what the representatives are here for."
He pulled out a small card, offered it to me. "My room number. Diamond Dorm. Don't hesitate to reach out."
I took the card because refusing would have been even more awkward. "Thank you."
"Take care of yourself, Aldric. And seriously, get those ribs checked."
He left, closing the door gently behind him.
I stood alone in Training Room 13, bleeding, bruised, holding a card from Lucas Hartwell.
The same Lucas who'd beaten me in a duel. The same Lucas who'd been with Sera. The same Lucas who was everything I wasn't, strong, confident, genuinely kind.
And now he'd saved me from getting beaten worse.
The irony was suffocating.
"I hate everything about that," Asura said. "Everything. From your refusal to fight back to that stupidly nice upperclassman saving you. Hate it. Hate all of it."
I know.
"You should have fought back. You could have taken them."
And revealed myself? Risk exposure?
"Better than curling up and taking a beating like you deserved it!"
I did deserve it.
"NO YOU DIDN'T!" Her voice was actually angry. Not annoyed. Not frustrated. Genuinely angry. "Kenji Yamamoto was an asshole. You've acknowledged that. You've tried to be better. You don't deserve to be beaten for mistakes from a past life!"
Then explain why it felt right.
Silence.
"Because you're an idiot with a martyr complex," she finally said. "And we need to fix that before you get yourself killed."
I looked at the practice sword I'd dropped. At the blood on the floor. At the card in my hand.
Lucas's offer. Protection from someone who didn't even remember me. Kindness from someone who had every reason to look down on me.
I couldn't accept it. Couldn't let him get involved. Couldn't risk him eventually remembering who I was.
I pocketed the card, retrieved my sword, and left Training Room 13.
Back to my dorm room. Past students who stared at my bruised face and bloody uniform. Past whispers that followed me like shadows.
"Did you see Ashford?"
"Got beaten up apparently..."
"By Theodore Valemont's group..."
"Refused a duel challenge, I heard...."
"Bro is a coward"
"He's a disgrace to his family..."
I ignored them all. Made it to my room. Locked the door.
Collapsed on my bed.
Every inch of my body hurt. Ribs screamed with each breath. Face throbbed. I probably should go to the infirmary.
I stayed in bed instead.
Asura manifested, landing on my chest in her new crop-top-and-skirt outfit. She looked furious.
"That was the stupidest thing I've ever seen. And I've been alive for centuries."
"Noted."
"You can't keep doing this. Can't keep accepting punishment like you deserve it."
"Why not? I do deserve it."
"For what? Being a bully in a past life? Hurting people decades ago as someone else?" She flew up to hover in front of my face. "You've been trying to be better. You've been training. Working. Improving. That should count for something."
"It doesn't erase what I did."
"Nothing erases what anyone did! But you can't spend your whole second life punishing yourself for the first one!" She landed on my chest again, tiny hands on her hips. "And letting yourself get beaten by some entitled princeling isn't atonement. It's just stupid."
Maybe she was right. Maybe I was being stupid.
But right now, lying in bed with cracked ribs and a split lip, I couldn't bring myself to care.
"I'm going to sleep," I said. "Wake me if something important happens."
"Everything that just happened was important!"
"Then wake me if something more important happens."
She grumbled but dissipated, flowing back into the dagger under my mattress.
I lay there in the dark, Lucas's card burning a hole in my pocket, my body aching, my mind churning.
Three weeks of peaceful isolation ended by a violent reminder of exactly where I stood in this world's hierarchy.
At the bottom.
Where I belonged.
Where I deserved to be.
I closed my eyes and tried to convince myself I believed that.
Failed.
But sleep came anyway, dragging me down into darkness and dreams of rooftops and falling and hands I couldn't quite reach.