"Impressive," Reynold said, his smile widening. "Your control is precise, and your power is undeniable. But raw power isn't enough. Let's see how you fare under pressure." This chapter is updated by Novel~Fire. (n)et
With a snap of his fingers, Reynold summoned multiple training orbs that floated around the stage, their movements erratic and unpredictable.
"Your task is simple," Reynold continued. "Destroy all the orbs within thirty seconds. If you fail, you'll lose your rank as top student."
Asher raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "That's all?"
Reynold's expression hardened. "Begin."
The orbs shot toward Asher, moving at blinding speeds. The class watched, holding their breath as the stage became a blur of motion.
Asher moved like a shadow, his scythe a crimson streak as it cleaved through the air. Each swing was deliberate, calculated, and devastatingly effective. The orbs shattered one after another, unable to match his speed and precision.
Blood tendrils erupted from the ground, ensnaring the remaining orbs and pulling them into the path of Asher's scythe. Within twenty seconds, the stage was clear, the shattered remains of the orbs scattered around Asher's feet.
The class broke into murmurs, a mix of awe and disbelief at the sheer efficiency of Asher's performance. Reynold watched him with an appraising look, his smirk returning.
"Well done, Magnus," Reynold said, his tone carrying a rare note of approval. "You've proven yourself worthy of your rank. But remember, staying at the top is harder than reaching it. Don't get complacent."
Asher lowered his scythe, the weapon dissolving back into crimson mist that vanished into the air. He gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable.
"Noted," he replied simply, turning to leave the stage.
As he walked back to his seat, the class parted like the Red Sea, their gazes following him with a mix of admiration and wariness. Freya, who sat near the middle, gave him a sly smile as he passed.
"Show-off," she whispered teasingly.
Asher didn't reply, but the faintest twitch of a smile crossed his lips.
Reynold clapped his hands, drawing the class's attention back to him. "Class dismissed," he announced. "Reflect on what you've seen today. The academy isn't just a place for learning; it's a battlefield. Those who stagnate will be left behind."
As the students began filing out of the room, Asher remained seated, his gaze fixed on the window. He could feel the weight of their stares, the unspoken challenge in their eyes.
Freya lingered beside him, leaning casually against his desk. "So, what's next for the great Magnus?" she asked, her tone light but curious.
Asher glanced at her, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "Maybe you should leave me alone," he said, his tone as sharp as his gaze.
"Are you gay?" Freya suddenly asked, tilting her head curiously.
A twitch of irritation crossed his face. "We're not even ten," he replied, his voice dripping with exasperation.
"Still," Freya said, leaning closer with a playful glint in her golden eyes, "a beautiful girl like me is practically throwing herself at you, and yet, you're ignoring me. Makes a girl wonder."
Asher stared at her for a long moment, noting the way she carried herself—confident, persistent, and annoyingly self-assured. Her expression was one of mock innocence, but her smirk betrayed her amusement at his discomfort.
Her antics left him mildly amused yet irritated, and he couldn't help the faint chill that ran down his spine as her unwavering gaze locked onto him. "You just thought something rude, didn't you?" Freya accused, her tone teasing but her eyes narrowing slightly, as though daring him to deny it.
Asher looked back at her, his face impassive as he replied coolly, "You're imagining things."
Freya pouted, stepping back with a mock huff. "Fine, keep pretending you're not interested. But don't think I'll give up that easily, Magnus."
Asher sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Do what you want," he muttered, turning his attention back to the window.
Freya smirked, clearly enjoying herself. "Oh, I will."
"but still lets go and check out other things" she said once again.
Asher sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Freya, just... stop," he said, his voice heavy with exasperation. "Why are you even bothering me? Go tease someone else."
Freya smirked, leaning closer. "Because it's fun watching you squirm. You're so serious all the time, Magnus. Lighten up a bit."
Asher glanced at her, his crimson eyes narrowing further. "We're here to train, not to entertain your boredom."
Freya pouted dramatically, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, come on. Life's more than just training and fighting, you know. And for the record, I'm not running after you. I'm just... curious."
"Curious about what?" Asher's tone was sharper now, his patience wearing thin.
Freya grinned mischievously. "About what makes someone like you tick. You're like a puzzle—serious, distant, and way too good at everything. It's intriguing." Her voice lowered, almost teasing. "And maybe, just maybe, I enjoy seeing that stoic face of yours crack a little."
Asher leaned back in his seat, glaring at her. "You're impossible."
She winked. "And you're predictable. That's why I win this round."
Asher groaned, deciding it wasn't worth the effort to argue. "Whatever helps you sleep at night," he muttered, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder.
Freya followed, her hands clasped behind her back, still smiling. "So, what's next on the agenda, oh mighty top ranker?"
"Finding somewhere quiet," Asher replied dryly, walking faster in an attempt to outpace her.
"Good luck with that," Freya said, easily keeping up. "But just so you know, I'm not giving up. You're way too interesting for that."
Asher didn't respond, but as they walked down the hallway, he couldn't help but feel a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement. Freya's persistence was as frustrating as it was baffling, but somehow, it kept his mind from wandering to darker places.
Maybe having someone like her around wasn't the worst thing in the world—if only she'd stop being so annoying.