Elion's eyes hardened.
He wasn't afraid anymore.
Just focused. Cold.
"System," he asked, "why can't I see their stats? Only levels?"
**[Discerning Eye is at Level 1: surface-level efficiency only.
Skill upgrade requires advancing from Apprentice Mage → Novice Mage.]**
"Tch… so I have to advance."
He shook out his arms.
He wanted nothing more than to rush back to his room, sit cross-legged, break through to Novice Mage, and upgrade Discerning Eye.
But—
He slowly turned back toward the garden ambush.
"…I need to deal with some pests first."
He still couldn't beat all six of them cleanly.
Not with William's skills, gear, or combat experience.
But this was going to be a brawl.
No mana.
No spells.
No weapons.
Outside of classes, these were strictly not allowed.
It was one of the academy's Ten Golden Edicts.
"Combat arts must never be unleashed upon peers beyond the classroom, arena, or instructor-approved duels. Violate this rule, and suspension, or expulsion awaits."
Students who broke it were dragged before the Disciplinary Committee.
An impartial committee of students, mostly upper years.
One of those times, the academy decided to grant authority to students.
And it wasn't without reason.
They didn't care if you were a noble, a baron's son, or a pauper swept in from the streets.
They punished everyone equally.
Even William Dawncrest would face consequences if he used mana or a blade on Elion in a hallway or courtyard.
But brawling?
Throwing fists?
Shoving someone into a wall?
It was also not allowed, but, as long as they didn't see it personally, and even if they did, the punishment would be a light one.
The committee simply called that "unwise conduct" and issued a warning.
Which is exactly why William always used this method.
A beating wouldn't get him suspended.
Magic would.
And William had no intention of risking the academy's wrath over someone he viewed as trash.
Elion understood all this perfectly.
The rules worked like a double-edged blade:
William wouldn't use mana.
But Elion couldn't, either.
No spells.
Nothing that the committee would detect or investigate.
Just raw strength.
Just bruised knuckles and body weight, and grit.
Just a brawl.
A grin edged onto Elion's face, not broad, not bright, but sharp enough to cut.
How convenient. I might not be able to match William's spell catalogue or the quality of his weapons. But I do have a chance.
Just fists.
And that narrowed the gap dramatically.
His fingers twitched with anticipation.
William was definitely starting to wonder why Elion hadn't walked into the trap yet.
Elion rolled his neck.
His breathing steadied.
Alright.
If it was a brawl they wanted. Then, a brawl they would get.
He stepped forward.
He could practically feel William growing impatient.
Elion had been standing still for two straight minutes, glaring into the distance like a statue.
Students walking past gave him awkward looks, whispering to themselves.
He ignored them.
Elion walked toward the garden path...
His posture lowered slightly.
His senses sharpened.
Every footstep ready to twist, dodge, or strike at a moment's notice.
He was prepared to explode into motion the moment the attack came.
Eyes focused.
Guard raised.
Come on, William. Let's see you try.
...
As soon as Elion stepped within ten metres, William and his five lackeys drifted into his path like a wall of muscle and arrogance.
Elion didn't slow.
He simply kept walking, though he let a faint frown crease his brow.
Five metres.
"Get him!" William barked.
The six boys exploded forward like a pack of rabid wolves.
But to Elion…
Everything slowed.
His vision snapped into supernatural clarity.
Discerning Eye.
The world shifted.
Six pairs of hands lunged toward him, and each movement became a lazy, predictable arc.
Each angle, each footstep, each aggressive shift in muscle was highlighted in sharp detail.
Elion breathed out.
Then he moved.
Jared's hand was the first to reach him, slow, sloppy, telegraphed.
Elion slid in close, shoulder brushing Jared's chest, and gave him a precise push.
shove.
Jared's eyes widened as his balance vanished.
Jared spun sideways, tumbling with a startled grunt.
He hit the ground in a rolling tumble.
Another pair of hands came for him.
Elion pivoted, sliding just enough that both missed their grab.
His foot hooked Bran's ankle—trip—Bran flailed and collapsed.
Another lunged again.
Elion didn't even look at him.
He stepped aside, grabbed the guy's forearm, and used his momentum...
flip!
Elion stepped aside, hooked his leg around the attacker's ankle, and swept him clean off his feet.
Thud!
Another came from behind.
Elion dipped low beneath the grab, appeared behind the boy in a blink, and pushed him sharply between the shoulder blades.
Bam!
The guy faceplanted.
Two seconds had passed.
William froze.
The expression on his face twisted slowly, confusion, then dawning horror.
Around them, heads turned.
Students halted in place, eyes widening as they realized what they were witnessing.
A fight!
But there was no moment of respite for Elion.
Another guy rushed in, Silas.
Elion caught his wrist, yanked him forward, pivoted, and shoved his back.
Silas collapsed violently onto the ground.
Only two remained: William and Markus, bursting forward, hands outstretched.
Their fingers stopped mere centimetres from Elion's arms.
Elion's hands flickered, catching both their wrists effortlessly.
"Too slow," he murmured, far too calmly.
He pulled.
Their bodies collided with a sickening crack as skull met skull.
Bam!
Both dropped like sacks of grain.
Only five seconds had passed.
And six bodies lay scattered across the courtyard floor, groaning, dizzy, utterly stunned.