Back on the stage, Liam still lay sprawled against the cold floor, forcing his breathing into sothing steady while his entire body scread in protest. Every muscle throbbed dully, every Myst channel burned, and deep within his core the pain of synchronization continued its relentless grind, slow and rciless. He kept his eyes shut, shutting out the roar of the hall, the murmurs, the stares—everything—until the world narrowed to breath and ache alone.
Then a shadow fell over him.
Liam frowned faintly and, with visible effort, cracked his eyes open. Standing above him was a familiar face, bloodied and marked with frost and scorch alike.
Percy.
"Strong enough to still remain conscious, I see," Percy said evenly, looking down at him.
"Yeah," Liam replied, his voice rough, strained from exhaustion. "Can’t allow myself to pass out just yet." He inhaled shallowly before adding, "I still need to tell you what my condition for participating in this duel was, after all."
At that, Percy’s expression dimd slightly. He exhaled once, controlled, then nodded. "Yeah. You do. What is it?"
"Before that," Liam said calmly, though his jaw tightened, "mind casting a Silent spell around us? Due to my Ascension, I can’t cast any spell right now." His gaze sharpened faintly. "And I’d rather not have anyone listening to what I’m about to say."
Percy’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What exactly do you need to say that requires a Silent spell?" he asked coolly. "I don’t care what your condition is, or if people hear it."
Liam stared up at him for a mont, then let out a quiet scoff. "Trust ," he said flatly. "You don’t want anyone hearing this any more than I do. Especially... you know who." His breathing hitched slightly. "So do us both a favor and cast it. I’m very close to passing out."
Percy studied him in silence, clearly weighing the words, trying to discern what kind of thing the dark mage could possibly want to say that warranted secrecy. After a mont, he relented. Without gestures or visible effort, he cast a Silent spell, an invisible, tightly ford do sealing the two of them off from the rest of the hall.
"All right," Percy said evenly. "It’s done. What is it you want?"
"Your sister..." Liam said hoarsely.
Percy’s eyes widened instantly, then hardened into a frown. "The hell did you just say?"
"...I want you to talk to your sister," Liam finished after steadying his breathing.
Percy knit his brows, confusion and irritation mixing together. "What do you an you want to talk to my sister?"
Liam forced his eyes fully open for the first ti and fixed Percy with a steady stare. "I don’t have much ti," he said evenly. "So shut up and listen."
The bluntness caught Percy off guard.
"You might fool most people in this academy with that act," Liam continued, his tone plain and unwavering, "pretending you’re cold toward Sheila, that you don’t care about her, that you want nothing to do with her. But I’m not buying it." His gaze sharpened. "I know exactly what you’re doing—and it’s stupid."
Percy stiffened slightly.
"You think you’re protecting her," Liam went on, "from whatever it is you think you’re shielding her from. But you’re not. You’re ssing with her ntal health." His voice dropped just a notch. "You’re hurting her. Slowly."
He drew a shallow breath. "And I’m not having that. I can’t afford for her to carry around a weakness that any half-witted idiot could exploit just by paying attention—all because of you." His eyes burned with quiet resolve. "That’s not going to happen."
Liam’s voice softened, but the weight behind it only deepened. "So you’re going to talk to her. Properly. You’re going to set things straight before it’s too late for either of you to ever go back to what you were before everything changed."
Percy frowned, the words sinking in despite himself.
Liam finally let his head sink back against the floor, closing his eyes as his body demanded rest. "She still looks up to you," he said quietly. "She still cares about you. And I know you care about her too. Keeping her at arm’s length isn’t helping either of you." He exhaled slowly. "Be the brother she rembers. Talk to her. Clear the bad air."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Percy spoke, his voice once again even and detached. "Tell sothing, Hunter. You don’t strike as the type to ddle in other people’s affairs. So what is this really about?" His gaze sharpened. "What do you want with —and with Sheila?"
Liam let out a faint scoff, eyes half-lidded as his vision blurred. "With you and Sheila?" he echoed. "You’re just a catalyst I need." His lips twitched. "Don’t worry—I’ll tell you what I want with your sister." He paused deliberately. "But only after you do what needs to be done."
His eyes closed fully. "Until then," he murmured, "you can keep wondering."
As those words left Liam’s mouth, Percy remained still, staring down at him for a mont longer, his expression unreadable as he tried to piece together what exactly Liam was scheming with everything he had just said. There was sothing unsettling about it—not the demand itself, but the certainty behind it, as if Liam already knew how this would play out.
And yet, despite himself, Percy found his thoughts returning to Liam’s words again and again, dissecting them, weighing them carefully down to the last letter. The more he thought about it, the less easily he could dismiss them. After a mont, he exhaled slowly through his nose and shifted his gaze back to Liam, who still lay sprawled against the stage floor.
"Fine," Percy said evenly. "I’ll entertain your words." His eyes narrowed slightly. "But you better keep your end of the deal and tell exactly what you want with Sheila. Got it?"
He waited.
No response ca.
"...Hey," Percy tried again, his tone sharpening slightly. "Are you—"
He stopped mid-sentence, eyes flicking over Liam more carefully this ti. The tension drained from his posture as realization set in.
Liam was out cold.
Percy stared at him for a second longer before clicking his tongue softly. "Such a bastard," he muttered under his breath. "Guess his body finally gave in to exhaustion." His gaze lingered briefly on Liam’s motionless form, chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths, before he straightened.
Without wasting any more ti, Percy dismissed the Silent spell and turned toward the elevated platform where the authoritative figures sat.
"He’s out from overexertion," Percy said, his voice carrying clearly through the hall. "It would be wise to get him to the infirmary."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Headmaster Thion cast a brief look toward Sir Kaelen. Kaelen responded with a small nod and stepped toward a stand beside him, tapping a translucent orb embedded within it. Green lights flickered to life, twinkling softly as the spell activated.
Monts later, a portal shimred open behind Percy.
From it stepped two won dressed in pristine healer attire, their expressions composed and professional as they took in the scene before them. They approached Liam’s unconscious form, one of them kneeling briefly to tap two fingers lightly against his chest. In the next instant, his body lifted gently off the ground, rising into the air as if cradled by unseen hands.
"We’ll be taking him now," one of the healers said, offering a small bow toward Percy and the authoritative figures in the distance.
As she straightened, her gaze shifted fully to Percy, taking in the blood streaking his body and the damage he himself had sustained.
"I believe it would be wise for you to accompany us as well, Mr. Granger," she added calmly. "You’ve sustained several serious injuries."
"Sure," Percy replied evenly, giving a short nod. "No problem."
"Very well," the healer said.
Turning, she and her partner began walking toward the portal, Liam still levitating beside them. Percy followed without hesitation, and one by one they passed through the shimring gateway, vanishing from the hall and leaving silence in their wake.
The portal dissolved into drifting motes of magical dust.
For a brief mont, the hall remained unnaturally quiet.
Then voices began to rise once more.
"What do you think they were talking about?" one student whispered, the question echoing the curiosity gnawing at nearly everyone present.
"I don’t know," another replied, shaking his head. "But does it even matter? All we have to accept now is that Granger lost to that freaky-looking bastard."
Uncomfortable as it was, he wasn’t wrong.
A third-year losing to a first-year was going to dominate conversations across the academy for a long ti, no matter how desperately so wished it weren’t true.
As the chatter continued to swell, movent drew everyone’s attention. A familiar figure rose from his seat and stepped forward toward the pulpit at the front of the hall. One by one, heads turned until all eyes settled on Sir Kaelen, standing tall with his usual detached expression.
The hall fell silent almost instantly.
"With that little match now concluded," Sir Kaelen began, his deep voice calmly booming throughout the hall, "the evaluation exam will now comnce." He paused briefly. "Third-years are free to observe the sparring of their juniors."
The mont his words sank in, both first- and second-years rembered that they still had one final evaluation to complete before the assessnt period officially ended. As that realization spread, the grand stage where Liam and Percy had fought dissolved into motes of light, the damage to the hall repairing itself seamlessly.
In its place, five smaller stages ford, spaced evenly across the hall.
Portals followed soon after, shimring into existence and lining the walls, ready to transport students to their assigned training halls.
"For the first-years," Kaelen continued evenly, "those assigned to the west training hall will find a mark on the shoulder of their attire." His gaze swept the room. "You may enter any portal. You will arrive at your designated location regardless."
Students imdiately began checking themselves, murmurs rippling through the crowd.
"Now then," Kaelen said once more. "Off you go."
The hall burst into activity.
Second-years moved toward the portals that would send them to the north or south training halls. Marked first-years followed suit, while the unmarked remained behind. So third-years lingered, intending to watch the sparring matches in the east hall, while others stepped through portals at random, content to observe wherever they landed. A few turned toward the massive doors, choosing to leave and continue their day.
Before long, the hall emptied into controlled motion, every student finding their place.
The evaluation was ready to begin.
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