Chapter 19: How Hard Can You Be?

The golden formation flared into life, and the moment it completed, the fireball flew forward in a burst of flame, striking Damien square in the chest. The fire erupted across his uniform and skin, consuming him in seconds. Damien screamed, his voice loud, hoarse, and full of panic. He flailed on the floor, trying to roll and beat out the flames, but it clung to him like oil, searing through fabric, hair, and flesh. The hallway filled with the sharp stench of burned cloth and cooked skin. Noah watched. He didn’t look away. Then, he snapped his fingers. The fire vanished. But the damage was done. Damien lay there, twitching once before going still. His skin was charred, cracked black around the edges. His face was unrecognizable, scorched and blistered. Unconscious. Maybe worse. Noah stared down at him for one long moment before lifting his head to look at the others. The hallway was silent. The other Stone-tier boys, still gathered around the broken door, stood frozen, pale and wide-eyed. No one spoke. Noah sighed. "Go back to your rooms." He said softly. No one moved. He raised his palm again, letting the faint shimmer of heat return. "Unless you think you can take a fireball." That did it. Within seconds, boots scraped against stone as one after the other, the students turned and hurried back into their rooms, doors closing one by one with soft clicks. Soon, the hallway was empty. Except for the smoke, the scorch mark, and the burned body at Noah’s feet. A second later, the crackling silence was broken by the slow sound of clapping. Noah turned, his eyes narrowing. Arlo strolled toward him from the stairwell with his usual easy gait, hands coming together in deliberate applause. His blindfold was still in place, but his wide grin said he’d seen plenty. "Now that was a show." He said, voice filled with amusement. "Fire, drama, betrayal from Stone-tier comrades, a screaming noble, it had everything." Noah wiped a smear of blood from his cheek, eyes tired. "What are you doing here?" "Same as you." Arlo said. "I woke up to the building shaking like it was about to collapse. I figured I’d check if we were being invaded." He walked past Noah, crouching beside Damien’s scorched body. He hovered his hand over his chest for a second, feeling the faint rise and fall. "Still breathing." Arlo confirmed. "Impressive, honestly. You cooked him just short of the death line. You really do play right up to the edge." Noah didn’t answer. Arlo stood again, brushing imaginary dust from his robe. "Smart, by the way. Letting them believe the token was in the trunk, then baiting Damien in close. That last Fireball? Beautiful." Noah turned away with a slight grunt. He walked back toward his room, boots crunching against splinters and soot. His door hung in pieces. The frame was cracked. His mattress was upturned, scrolls scattered, ink pooling on the floor. He stared at it all for a moment, then stepped over the broken wood and moved toward the window. Outside, the thick unnatural darkness that had blanketed the dorm was now gone. The barrier had vanished. He could see the moon above, and the rest of the campus sprawled in front of his window. Noah frowned. ’Did the second year leave?’ The quiet didn’t last. "Noah?" Arlo called from the hallway. Noah looked up. At the far end of the corridor, near the top of the stairwell, stood an older student. He looked calm, glasses perched on his nose, hair neat, uniform sharp. He was watching them. And he wasn’t smiling. He scoffed, his eyes scanning the hallway, taking it all in. Damien still smoldering on the floor, the broken door, the cracked walls. "I knew he’d failed." He muttered, voice calm but filled with irritation. "The moment my A-rank skill faded and he hadn’t come back. I mean, how hard can an FFF-rank student be to defeat?" He adjusted his glasses with two fingers, looking up the hallway toward Noah and Arlo. "Stupid duration limits." From his spot leaning against the wall, Arlo gave a small nod of understanding. "Annoying, right? Skills are weird like that." He turned slightly toward Noah like they were in class. "Thing is, skills scale with your current rank, not your potential. FFF-ranks like us? We’d be lucky to hold an A-rank skill for more than a few seconds. It’d burn out before you could do anything real." He gestured toward the upperclassman. "But if he kept his going for that long... he’s already at F-rank." The older student smiled faintly. "Good eyes." He stepped forward now, footsteps unhurried, with the confidence of someone who had nothing to fear. "I didn’t plan to step in. Inter-year conflict is... frowned on. Deeply discouraged. Could get me reprimanded." He flicked a hand toward Damien’s crumpled body. "But he failed. And the token’s still in play." He tapped his chest lightly. "With that B-rank spell, I could finally push myself closer to Gold-tier. Not right away, my mana capacity and control are still only D-rank. But it will be mine when I’m ready." His voice dipped slightly. "If I could use it now, I’d already be in Gold, but even Gold-tier students wouldn’t be able to reach B-rank before graduating. Some of our teachers haven’t even reached B-rank." He sighed, then focused on Noah again. "Hand over the token while I’m still asking nicely." Noah didn’t move. "No." The older student’s smile didn’t disappear from his face. "You really don’t learn, do you?" Noah tilted his head, voice low. "Funny. The Silver-tier students all seem to have something in common." The student raised a brow. "You’re all just thieves." The smirk on the upperclassman’s face twitched. "That so?" He raised his hand. "Let’s see how long you can keep talking after this." A spell formation bloomed to life above his palm, intricate and swirling with sharp, cold runes. With a flick of his wrist, the formation locked into place, and a torrent of ice exploded outward, roaring down the hallway in a jagged, freezing burst aimed straight at Noah.