[Five days later....]
Azel sat in the cafeteria, a book in his hands and a half-finished plate of food in front of him.
He had come early — early enough to grab good seats, which meant he was now surrounded by his usual group.
Beside him sat Sybil and Flare, both eating quietly.
And unsurprisingly, Charlotte was there too.
As for why she was here... Azel was pretty sure she was just trying to milk him for free food again.
He could only blame Sybil for running her mouth about it when Charlotte happened to be nearby.
It had taken less than ten minutes for Charlotte to "happen" upon them and politely invite herself to sit.
"Azel, why do you look like you’re waiting for something?" Flare asked between bites.
She looked less stressed than before.
The dark circles under her eyes, the kind that made her look like she hadn’t slept for days, had faded slightly.
Her bloodline was partly to blame... It was a side effect of her accelerated metabolism.
She burned through energy faster than anyone else.
At least she was eating properly now.
Lunch, anyway. He still had no idea what she ate for dinner, or if she even did.
Azel closed the book he was reading and sighed.
"Well," he said, setting it down, "I think something interesting is going to happen."
Flare raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly do you know that?"
He smirked.
"It’s a boy thing. You wouldn’t understand."
Flare stared at him for a second, then turned away with a small huff, choosing instead to focus on devouring the steak on her plate.
She knew better than to question Azel when he was being annoying.
Sybil, sitting across from them, leaned forward slightly.
"Is this about the tournament rumors again?"
"Nope," Azel said. "Something dumber."
And right on cue, it began.
Two girls entered the cafeteria.
One looked nervous, clutching her bag tightly to her chest. The other wore a furious scowl that could cut through steel.
Azel watched them walk with determined steps straight toward Reinhardt’s table, where the blonde-haired heir sat laughing with his usual lackeys.
The whole cafeteria seemed to quiet down.
They stopped in front of him.
The scowling girl spoke first.
"Hey."
Reinhardt glanced up lazily. "What do you want... woma—"
PAH!
The sound echoed through the entire hall.
A sharp, clean slap.
The kind that left a mark.
Reinhardt’s head twisted to the side, his hair falling over his eyes as silence settled.
"Rapist!" the girl shouted, her voice trembling with fury. "How dare you try to assault my sister?!"
Her hand rose again, shaking with rage. "I don’t care if you’re the heir of a great clan — how dare you touch—"
"Filthy commoner woman."
Reinhardt’s voice turned cold.
His eyes glowed faintly as mana gathered in his palm, forming a flickering blue blade.
"How dare you slap me with your dirty hands?"
’Well,’ Azel thought, leaning back in his chair, ’he sounds racist.’
This was how it started.
The first minor event.
The "Clone Wars Incident."
Azel remembered it clearly or at least, the game version of it.
There were two or three events that led up to the First Minor Calamity, and this was the first of them.
The Academy called it The Clone Wars.
The culprit was obviously Professor Drake.
In the original storyline, he was a talented but deranged professor who had grown sick of teaching "mongrels," as he called his students.
Using a forbidden technique, he collected blood samples from students and staff alike under the guise of "academic research."
Then, he used that blood to create clones — identical copies with twisted minds of their own.
Some were violent, others aimless, but all of them moved through the Academy like ghosts with grudges.
The main character’s goal in the game had been to find and defeat all of them, then uncover the truth behind Drake’s project.
"Enough."
A commanding voice echoed across the cafeteria.
Every head turned.
Standing between the furious girl and Reinhardt was a tall young man with light-green hair tied into a short ponytail.
Silas Vega.
Third-Year Representative.
The crowd immediately murmured... Silas was one of those upperclassmen everyone admired, not only was he handsome, he was also strong and diplomatic.
Not as handsome as Azel, of course.
But close enough for people to swoon.
Silas raised a hand to both of them, his voice gentle.
"I’m sorry for the misunderstanding," he said. "But it wasn’t Reinhardt who did such a thing."
The scowling girl froze. "What?"
"There seems to be clones of several students and professors moving around the Academy," Silas explained, his tone patient. "I’m afraid one of those clones may have been responsible."
He smiled, rubbing the back of his head in mild embarrassment. "There’s even a clone of me too."
Azel’s hand twitched.
’WHAT?!’
He barely stopped himself from shouting it out loud.
Was this man insane?
Why would Silas Vega, of all people, let Drake take his blood?
He was one of the most talented representatives in the Academy and he’d just given his blood to the lunatic responsible for making copies of people?!
’Is everyone in this place allergic to self-preservation?’ Azel thought.
Back in the center of the cafeteria, Silas continued his explanation.
"But fear not," he said, his confident tone returning. "The other class representatives and I will investigate this matter thoroughly. We’ll identify every clone and deal with them before anyone else is harmed."
Silas’s eyes looked through the crowd and then stopped directly on him.
Their gazes met.
Flare elbowed him. "He’s looking at you."
"I can see that," Azel said.
"Did you do something?"
Silas gave him a nod which could count as a silent invitation.
’Ah,’ Azel thought. ’So that’s how this starts.’
He stood up and so did Lorraine and they both walked toward Silas, they stopped just in front of him and the third year smiled.
"I’m glad both of you could join me, let’s get to a quiet place and discuss our next course of action."