Afternoon sessions would be devoted to combat training, but there were still two hours of free time, lunch, and rest.
The perfect time for gossip and boasting.
Elion spotted William talking animatedly with a group of girls, his usual followers hanging on his every word.
It was obvious that he was telling them some story about his exploits in the dungeon.
Elion snorted in disgust. It was probably all lies, but the girls seemed to be eating it up.
Every fibre of him wanted to stand and smash that smug smile off William's face.
This bastard had tried to kill him for no reason, pushed him off a bridge into the dark, and yet here he was, preening like a rooster.
Elion ground his teeth and forced himself to breathe slowly.
Relax, he told himself. His time will come.
He looked at William with a cold and patient gaze. Your death won't be painless. I'll make it slow, agonizingly slow.
William's laughter died mid-sentence. He stiffened as if a cold hand had passed over him, then turned, confused.
"Huh. I could have sworn I felt someone's killing intent just now," he muttered to himself, scanning the room. "Weird. I must have imagined it."
Elion had shifted his gaze elsewhere just as William had turned around.
He caught a glimpse of the beautiful Isolde, the clueless cause of his near demise, standing slightly apart from the rest, listening with a skeptical expression on her face.
Her long, pointed ears twitched faintly, a telltale sign of her elven heritage. Even among elves, she stood out.
Her silver-blonde hair cascaded down her back like liquid light, glinting under the soft illumination.
Her pale blue eyes, sharp and thoughtful, were fixed on William as if dissecting every word that fell from his lips.
Unlike the others, she didn't seem entirely convinced by his stories.
As Elion watched, another student, a catkin girl, Lyra, approached Isolde and whispered something in her ear.
Isolde brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, unaware of his gaze.
For a fleeting moment, her eyes drifted across the room and locked onto his.
For a heartbeat, neither of them looked away.
Then, to his surprise, she smiled.
A small, warm, reassuring smile, gentle in a way that almost disarmed him. It wasn't mocking, nor pitying.
It was… kind.
Elion blinked, caught off guard. No one in the class ever looked at him like that.
Her smile lingered for a moment longer before her cheeks turned a faint shade of pink.
She quickly averted her gaze, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as if embarrassed by her own reaction.
Elion stared at her for a few seconds more, feeling something strange stir in his chest.
He wasn't sure what to make of it.
Then, as if to shatter the fragile moment, William's voice cut through the air.
He seized the moment like the coward he was. "Hey, trash!" he called, loud enough for the room to turn.
His cronies snapped their heads to glare at Elion, faces twisting with the practiced disgust they wore like armor.
Elion's eyes flickered to William's table, where the boy was now staring at him with a violent expression
"I need a target for practice later," William called on, the cruelty curling into a grin. "Make sure you don't run off."
The gaggle of boys snickered as they swept out of the room, triumphant in their small theater of cruelty.
As always, the rest of the class pretended nothing was happening, and chatter resumed. Elion said nothing; silence was his habit.
And William took that silence for acceptance.
Little did he know, this Elion had no intention of playing the obedient fool anymore.
I'm not the same helpless guy I was, William. By the time you realise that, it will be too late.
Elion noticed Mira clinging to William's arm, as possessive as ever, pressing herself against him as usual.
It was no secret that that bitch had given herself completely to William; she even made a point to make sure that it was known.
Elion's eyes flashed with a hint of rage, I'm going to enjoy slowly breaking that bitch!
During the first few months at the academy, back when William still played at being the model student and Mira wasn't yet draped around his arm, things had been different.
Back then, she'd been just another ambitious girl, beautiful, cunning, and determined to climb the academy's social ladder by any means necessary.
And she had set her sights squarely on William.
He was the golden boy of their class, talented, confident, and surrounded by the kind of reputation that drew attention wherever he went.
Mira wanted that.
She wanted the eyes, the whispers, the envy that came from standing beside someone like him.
But William, for all his arrogance, had standards; he didn't chase, he chose.
So, she had to make him notice her.
At first, she tried charm. Subtle glances, feigned laughter at his jokes, small compliments dropped like seeds waiting to sprout.
When that didn't work fast enough, she changed her approach, more aggressive, more daring.
And that was when she turned her attention to Elion.
He was the perfect pawn.
The William's punching bag, the one everyone mocked.
By targeting him, she could curry favor with William without seeming desperate.
Every insult she threw, every "accidental" mishap she caused him in class or training, earned her a glance, a smirk, a word of approval from William.
It hadn't taken long before William took the bait. Hook, line, and sinker.
He found her "bold," "spirited," even "amusing." And soon enough, she'd gotten exactly what she wanted: his attention.
Now, months later, Mira had everything she thought she desired.
She was his unofficial girlfriend, though "bedwarmer" was a more accurate word.
William paraded her around like a trophy, a pretty thing to hold onto when he wanted to show off his dominance.
And Mira played her part perfectly.
She laughed at his jokes, flattered his ego, and let him drape his arm possessively over her shoulders while the rest of the girls glared in envy.
But behind that perfect smile was something else.