Felix POV
"Eh? What are they going on about?" Esper frowned, leaning forward so far her elbows almost slipped off the railing.
Down in the arena, the Overseer's voice still echoed faintly: flirting above his station, shameful behaviour, abandoned noble dignity…
Felix could practically feel the collective side-eye being thrown at Soren from half the nobles in the stands.
Amelia just shrugged beside him, her expression flat as always, golden eyes narrowed on the field.
"I don't get it," Esper muttered. "That doesn't sound like Cutie at all."
"To be honest, it kind of does."
Two sets of eyes turned toward him.
Esper's brows jumped.
"Huh?"
Amelia's ears twitched.
"Explain," she said.
Felix sighed and shifted in his seat, stretching his legs out.
The arena below was small, with low stands and a simple stone boundary, nothing fancy, but the atmosphere had thickened the moment Soren's name was announced.
It was like he had a talent for dragging a spotlight onto himself even when he clearly didn't want it.
"Look at it from the outside, not from our point of view."
Esper tilted her head.
"From whose point of view, then?"
"Any random noble's," Felix replied. "Or any commoner who thinks nobles should act 'properly'."
He lifted a hand and began ticking points off on his fingers.
"First off, Soren is ranked ninety-sixth in Arcane Studies. If you go by that alone, he's pathetically weak. That's what everyone assumes when they look at the rankings."
Esper's mouth twisted.
"He's not that weak."
"I know that," Felix said. "You know that. Half the first-years know that now. But if someone doesn't know him personally and only sees his number on the board… ninety-sixth looks bad."
Amelia's eyes slid from the arena back to Felix.
"And?" she asked quietly.
"And," Felix continued, "despite that, he's somehow managed to become friends with you two, plus Professor Roseblood. That's a princess of a Beastkin Kingdom, the only daughter of a duke, and a professor from one of the old noble lines. If you put all that together, it's… yeah, suspicious."
Esper blinked, then suddenly sat up straighter.
"Oh! I get it! So from the outside it looks like he's just… hovering around girls way above him?"
"Pretty much," Felix said.
He didn't like saying it, but it was the truth.
"He's always hanging around you," Felix went on, nodding at Amelia, "who's not only royalty but also stupidly strong. Then there's you," he added, jerking his chin at Esper, "second-ranked in Arcane, duke's kid, popular as hell even outside your department. And then Professor Roseblood on top of that, who basically never interacts casually with students."
Esper puffed her cheeks.
"It still doesn't make sense. I'm the one who approached him first."
"Same," Amelia said simply.
Felix huffed a small laugh.
"Doesn't matter who moved first, people don't see the details. They just see the picture: low-ranked Arden kid constantly surrounded by high-status girls. Add in the way he talks…"
"What's wrong with the way he talks?" Esper asked.
Felix smirked.
"He doesn't use noble speech at all. Half the time, he sounds like some random commoner you picked up off the street. Swearing, shrugging off etiquette, talking to professors like they're just people. I like it, but to other nobles? That's exactly what Ivan meant about 'noble dignity'."
Esper opened her mouth, then closed it again.
"Okay, that part's true," she admitted reluctantly. "But I've actually been curious about that. Did something happen with his family?"
Amelia's gaze sharpened slightly at the question, but she didn't say anything.
Instead, both girls looked at Felix expectantly.
He tapped his thumb against the railing, thinking.
He didn't know the full story.
Soren had never sat him down and explained it.
But he had heard enough to put some pieces together.
'I doubt he'd mind if I say this much,' Felix thought.
He drew a breath.
"I'm not sure about the details," he said honestly. "Whenever someone asks directly, he just smiles awkwardly and changes the subject. But…"
He paused, memories of dim lantern light and smoky air drifting up.
"…a while ago, he and I went to a gambling den together."
Esper's head snapped around.
"A what now?"
"It was an awful place," Felix said with a wry grin. "Sketchy as hell. The kind of joint where you expect someone to pull a knife if you breathe too loud. Exactly what you're imagining."
Esper leaned closer, eyes glittering.
"And Cutie went there with you?"
Amelia's tail flicked once, but her voice stayed even.
"Why didn't he just go to a noble one? There are regulated casinos in the upper district."
"That's what I asked too. It didn't make sense. A legit noble going to that kind of hole is just asking for trouble. But his answer was…"
He trailed off for a moment, remembering the way Soren had said it, so offhand it almost didn't sound real.
"He said he was practically disowned," Felix finished.
Esper's eyes widened.
"What, really?!"
Amelia's fingers drummed once on the railing, a small, controlled reaction.
Her ears twitched again, just enough to show that the information mattered to her.
Felix nodded.
"That's all he told me. No details. No ranting. Just that one line, and then he moved on like it didn't matter."
"For someone who talks so much," Esper muttered, "he hardly talks about himself…"
Felix snorted softly.
"That's because he only talks about other people, or about how much of a pain everything is."
The three of them exchanged a brief, wordless look, then turned their attention back to the arena as the Overseer finished reading the terms.
"Do you think he'll win?" Esper asked quietly.
There was no hesitation in Amelia's response.
"He will," she said.
Her voice was flat, matter-of-fact, as if she were stating the colour of the sky.
Felix raised a brow.
"Confident much?"
Amelia didn't look away from the field.
"He's weaker than Ivan, but he's more annoying to fight. That's enough," she said calmly.
"Annoying is a compliment now?" Felix muttered.
Esper grinned.
"In a fight? Definitely," she said.
Down below, Soren shifted his stance, purplish-silver light gathering in his palm.
[Begin.]
The barrier around the arena flared to life.
••✦ ♡ ✦•••
Soren Arden POV
[Begin.]
The barrier shimmered, sealing them in.
Soren didn't waste a single second.
"I call to you, goddess, hear my name and help thy champion. 「Minor Blessing of Agility」."
The purplish-silver light he had been gathering in his palm burst outward, sinking into his legs like cool water.
His body felt lighter, sharper, as if someone had quietly loosened invisible weights tied around his ankles.
He could have buffed stamina.
He could have boosted mana.
In a long fight, those were safer choices.
But the moment he had seen his opponent, he knew: if this dragged on, it was already his loss.
Ivan Olfram stood across from him like a wall brought to life.
A lion beastkin, tall enough to look down on Soren without effort, wrapped in full plate from neck to toe.
Bastard sword in his right hand, kite shield in his left, stance steady and grounded.
Even the way he held himself screamed "defence" and "endurance".
'Worst possible type for me…'
With his lack of raw firepower, trying to chip away at someone built like a fortress was stupid.
Before Ivan's armour gave way, Soren's mana, stamina, or nerves would.
So he couldn't play fair.
"「Gaia」."
Brown light rippled over the arena floor.
The earth under Ivan's feet warped, hard-packed stone softening, rising in uneven ridges and shallow dips.
Nothing that would trip him outright, but enough to make footing awkward.
Restrict movement first. Turn that heavy armour into a liability.
Dash—
Soren sprinted forward, Labrys already humming in his right hand, a green circle blooming in his left.
Ivan didn't move.
He simply locked his stance and raised his shield, bracing like an anchor driven into the ground.
「Einhardt Axemanship – Crescent」
Mana surged through Labrys, the axe head glowing so bright that even Soren almost squinted.
The blade carved a clean horizontal arc through the air, heading straight for Ivan's upper body.
'…The old man really wasn't lying about the conductivity.'
Clang—!
The impact rang through Soren's bones.
Ivan's kite shield caught the blow squarely.
A shock shuddered down Soren's arms, jolting his wrists and knocking his axe off-line.
The recoil kicked his right arm outward.
"Ugh—"
Ivan did not waste that instant.
He stepped in, plate boots grinding against the uneven stone, and thrust his sword straight for Soren's chest, no flourish, no technique, just cold, efficient steel.
"「Breeze!」"
Fwaa—
The green circle in Soren's left hand detonated into a blast of wind.
The gust howled around his body, shoving him sideways and back out of the sword's path.
Metal flashed past his nose, close enough that he could taste the oiled steel in the air.
He skidded, boots scraping as he killed his momentum.
"This is difficult," he muttered under his breath.
On paper, he was the one on the offensive.
In reality, he was barely dancing around a wall.
Ivan still hadn't left the rough patch of terrain Soren had created.
Whether he was being cautious because of the altered ground or simply confident enough to wait in place didn't matter; either way, he refused to chase.
"Are you scared?" Ivan called, voice echoing behind his visor.
————「❤︎」————