They weren’t mistakes.
Freya was too skilled for that.
Elara had sparred with her enough when they were younger, back before the comparisons beca unbearable, and she actually like being around her sister. She knew Freya’s footwork, knew her tells, knew the way she moved when she was serious versus when she was testing the waters.
But this wasn’t testing either.
This was sothing else.
Pity?
Anger flared hot in Elara’s chest at the thought.
Is she letting win because she feels sorry for ?
It angered her more than she cared to admit at the prospect of Freya feeling pity towards her. When the bullying accusations had happened, that was the one thing she was most worried about – Freya feeling pity towards her.
But she dismissed the thought just as fast.
Freya might wear kindness like armor, but she wasn’t stupid.
She wouldn’t risk the battle – risk Class S’s capture – just to make Elara feel better about herself.
That ant Freya wanted sothing.
Freya always wanted sothing, kind as Elara knew her.
Before Elara could process what that sothing might be, Freya shifted forward and struck.
It wasn’t a serious attack – light and controlled, not ant to hurt her at all – but the angle pushed Elara directly toward one of the openings she’d noticed earlier. It was more blatant this ti, and Elara couldn’t have missed it no matter how upset and frustrated she was.
An clear invitation.
Freya’s pale blue eyes t hers for a fraction of a second.
There was no mockery there. No pity either.
Just... expectation.
Expectation to take the obvious opening and get to the statue.
Elara stopped fighting like an angry younger sister.
She stopped thinking about the gap between them.
She stopped thinking at all.
She moved like a leader.
Mira noticed the change imdiately.
Without a word, she poured the last dregs of her mana into one final spell – thin, fragile, barely visible – a mist screen that sprouted between Elara and the statue for a few seconds at most.
It wasn’t much.
But a few seconds was more than enough.
Irene reacted instantly, white fla roaring outward to burn the mist away, but Freya’s positioning delayed her by a step. Just one, crystal step.
Just enough.
Elara slipped through.
Fire scorched her side – another burn to add to the collection – but she gritted her teeth and pushed forward, ignoring the pain, ignoring everything except the barrier made of layered mana around Iris.
Grace’s barrier.
The support students’ as well, though they were less powerful.
Iris’s eyes were still closed, hands steady as she channeled dual-node mana into the final statue. The person helping her was soone Elara did not realize, but she could tell that Iris was doing the heavy lifting.
I’m so close.
So close to finishing the job.
Grace noticed Elara breaking through and imdiately reinforced the barriers around the synchronization zone, threads of golden light weaving tighter around Iris. But the battlefield was too stretched out. Class S was protecting too many angles at once, and Grace couldn’t physically reach her in ti.
Elara pressed her burned hand against the barrier.
She felt resistance as the barrier pushed back.
Like a brick wall.
Of course it did.
Grace’s barriers weren’t sothing a half-dead Tier 1 mage could break through brute force.
But Elara wasn’t trying to be elegant.
She poured nearly all her remaining mana into one concentrated point – raw, unrefined pressure – and pushed.
She only had around 12 or 13 percent of her mana left, but that was still a massive amount compared to most students, more mana than Ronan had in total.
The barrier cracked.
Not shattered like Elara had naively imagined it would.
It just... cracked.
Iris’s eyes snapped open.
She saw Elara.
She saw what was about to happen.
But it was too late.
Mira’s final water thread reached the node channel at the exact sa mont Elara broke through.
Elara wasn’t sure how she got past Irene for that split second, probably tanking so painful damage to do so, but she didn’t question it.
It allowed for the opening to reveal itself.
Elara didn’t strike Iris directly.
She struck the mana flow between Iris and the node.
The synchronization practically convulsed.
Iris gasped, face going pale as backlash tore through her pathways. The statue’s light flickered violently, runes stuttering, both nodes rejecting the unstable connection.
The capture attempt collapsed.
Elara fell to one knee, mana nearly empty. Her vision swimming, blurry beyond belief.
Behind her, Class B students who’d been pinned down by Class S saw the statue’s light fade and began shouting her na.
Not Darius’s na.
Hers.
She could barely hear them over the ringing in her ears.
Freya remained standing exactly where she’d been, still smiling that unreadable smile.
Elara looked up at her, breathing hard, searching for an answer.
Why did you help ?
Because she was her sister?
Because she wanted her to win?
Because Freya thought she deserved it?
But then Elara glanced at Freya’s expression, and the way it lingered to Iris’s defeated form.
And then she understood.
Freya didn’t help her out of pity.
Freya wanted Iris to fail.
For a few seconds, Class S wavered.
The formation did not collapse, but the confidence that had held it together was damaged very obviously.
Even from the beginning, Elara thought they seed a little strange, like all of them had so kind of hidden animosity for each other, and they were just cooperating because it was the most logical thing to do.
But now, as the statue’s light flickered weakly and Iris stumbled back from the disrupted synchronization, the class S students paused.
The hidden animosity that Elara noticed beca a lot less hidden.
Grace moved fast.
"Protect Iris. Reform around the node team. Irene, remove Elara from the statue."
Her voice cut through the hesitation, clean and sharp, and Class S adjusted. Not perfectly, but fast enough.
Class A noticed first.
Armani’s head snapped toward the statue, then toward his scattered formation, and Elara could see him calculating whether he had the numbers to exploit the opening.
Class C and what remained of Class D shifted at the sa ti.
Adam’s forces pushed from the flank, testing the edges of Class S’s defense while Armani barked commands at his students, trying to rally them into sothing resembling a coordinated assault.
Behind Elara, Class B arrived.
Not all of them.
Maybe fifteen.
But they were shouting her na, not Darius’s, and that hit harder than she expected.
"Elara!"
"Leader!"
"Push forward!"
She could barely stand.
Her mana hovered sowhere around fifteen percent, her legs burned, her ribs ached, and her vision blurred at the edges.
But Class B was following her.
Not because Ronan pushed them.
Not because Darius was gone.
But because of her.
Elara smiled, letting her eyes finally close.
She’d done it.
Now it was ti to let her class take over.
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