Julian woke in stages.
First there was the sensation of warmth: soft, even, steady… Like the room had decided his comfort was a priority and had been quietly working on it all night. Then came the weight of the bedding: not heavy, not suffocating, but layered in a way that held him in place with almost suspicious kindness. Only after that did consciousness arrive fully, slow and reluctant, like an animal peeking out of a den.
He didn't open his eyes immediately.
In Ra, mornings had a texture. Noise through thin walls. A distant shout. The scrape of chairs. The sound of someone rushing down the hallway too hard, too fast, like they were trying to outrun the day. A dorm full of boys and life was never silent. Here, in Obelisk, the silence wasn't a held breath. It was the default.
Julian opened his eyes and stared up at a ceiling so pale and high it barely felt like a ceiling. The light in the room wasn't harsh. It had been carefully filtered, by curtains and glass and a planned architecture conspiring to make the morning look gentle, almost romantic. The air itself felt different: cooler, drier, free of the faint tang of too many bodies sharing too little space.
He lay there for a moment longer than he would have allowed himself in Ra. Not because he was lazy, but because the bed was that persuasive.
King-size was the obvious fact, the sheer width of it, the ridiculous space that could have fit two more people without anyone touching. But that wasn't what got him. It was the engineering of it. The way it supported him without demanding awareness. The way the mattress yielded just enough to cradle, but not enough to trap. The way the sheets slid against his skin like water, and the blanket carried a soft weight that made the idea of movement feel optional.
He shifted slightly, as if testing whether the bed would protest if he tried to leave. It didn't. It simply… suggested, with every ounce of its expensive logic, that he could stay.
Julian let out a slow breath through his nose, and huffed in almost a laugh.
"Geez… This is dangerous." he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
Somewhere near the edge of his awareness, the faintest flicker of presence, like a shadow moving at the corner of a candle's reach, answered with a quiet, wordless agreement. Not a voice, not a thought he could quote back later. Just the familiar sensation of being watched, in the way a guardian watched a perimeter.
Nightmare-Eyes was awake before he was. Julian pushed himself upright.
He swung his legs over the side and stood, bare feet meeting a floor that was, frankly, insulting.
Not cold linoleum. Not worn planks. Not the polished-but-cheap surface Ra used to pretend it was nicer than it was.
This was real wood, dark and dense, grain visible in long, elegant runs. It held warmth. It held history. It made the simple act of standing up feel like stepping onto a stage.
Julian looked around.
Yes, he'd already seen the room last night. Really seen it, piece by piece, because he was Julian and because he didn't trust gifts that arrived without price tags. But morning light made it feel new again. Softer. More believable. More his, even though he hadn't earned any of it in the way his body understood earning.
His uniform was already laid out, obviously. Not tossed on a chair or draped over the back of something. Julian noticed the compartment only after a second look.
Set into the wall near the wardrobe was a narrow vertical panel, flush with the surface, its seams nearly invisible unless you were actively searching for them. A discreet indicator light glowed faintly beside it: soft blue, steady. Active, but unobtrusive.
He crossed the room and pressed it. The panel slid open with an almost muted hydraulic whisper, revealing a shallow interior space just deep enough to hold folded garments or a covered tray. No excessive noise or announcement. No intrusion. A one-way access point, clearly designed so staff could deliver items without ever entering the room itself.
Once again, respect for privacy was preserved even in its architectural plans.
Inside, resting on a polished shelf, was his Obelisk uniform. Clean. Pressed. Still warm, as if it had only just been finished. The jacket folded with almost ceremonial care, the blue immaculate, the academy crest perfectly aligned. Beneath it, the shirt and tie were arranged with the kind of precision that suggested the person who'd prepared them took pride not just in the work, but in the absence of inconvenience their work created.
Julian stared at it for a moment.
In Ra, uniforms were washed in bulk. You learned quickly to retrieve yours before someone else did, learned to ignore the faint scent of detergent that never quite left the fabric, learned to accept the occasional missing button as a fact of life and just get a replacement for it.
Once again, the system in the blue dorm had worked around him. No knock, wake-up call. Not even a thought of making some kind of disruption, like his sleep was something almost sanctimonious.
The uniform had arrived while he slept, passed through the walls like a quiet promise: You are expected to be ready when you wake. Show them your best.
Julian reached in and lifted the jacket. The fabric was heavier than his Ra uniform. Not stiff, but structured. The kind of weight that settled onto the shoulders and stayed there, reminding you of itself without ever becoming uncomfortable.
This wasn't luxury meant to dazzle, but still had an impact on the mind and on the daily routine that would pass unexpectedly by most. He could understand the comments of new students having difficulty dealing with that kind of new reality.
It was a luxury designed to remove resistance. To smooth every edge of daily life until nothing distracted you from the expectations placed on you. It was easy to get loss in the lifestyle, the goal achieved, the perks.
In Ra, he'd dressed himself in the morning with a speed that bordered on muscle memory. You dressed fast, you moved fast, you didn't give your brain time to spiral.
He checked the small control panel by the bedroom door for a second. It was sleek, embedded into the wall like a piece of the building's nervous system. It listed mundane options, maintenance requests, announcements, schedule, along with the one indulgence Obelisk students used like breathing: room service.
Julian hesitated for half a beat, then pressed it.
A menu unfolded in neat categories. He scrolled. The options weren't "eggs or cereal." They were choices in a way Ra had never provided: different breads, different teas, fruit that wasn't always "whatever is left", dishes with names that implied someone had studied cuisine as a craft.
He ordered something simple on purpose. Eggs, toast, fruit, tea. Nothing extravagant. He wasn't trying to make a statement or cause a revolution in his stomach this early.
But even the "simple" option here had an elegance Ra would have treated like a treat reserved for special days.
The confirmation chimed softly as he crossed to the bathroom.
The door opened with a soft, expensive hush, and the warmth inside greeted him like the room had anticipated his arrival. He ran a hand along the stone edge.
For a second, he pictured the communal Ra dorm showers: the line, the shuffling, the half-muttered complaints, the pressure of time. He pictured the way he'd had to choose between a longer shower and eating breakfast, between clean hair and not being late.
Here, he could do both. Here, he didn't have to choose.
That was the privilege that always cut deepest: not just the money or not luxury, but the enhancement of life even on the small little things..
Julian took a shower today. Not because he didn't want the bath, he did, but because he didn't want to start the day by indulging in something that felt like another trap. He wasn't sure getting to the class in time would be possible if that was his choice. The water temperature stabilized instantly, the pressure was perfect. He didn't have to fight the faucet, to adjust any other settings. When he stepped in, it was ready to do its job, and make it flawlessly.
When he finally stepped out, he enveloped himself in the warmth of the thick and soft towel and took a dryer to prepare his hair. About ten minutes later, he was finally dressed in the quiet confidence of someone who hadn't begun his day under stress.
And that, too, was a weapon.
He looked at the bed again, and it looked back like it knew it had won a battle by existing.
"Don't start." Julian muttered, not sure if he was talking to the bed or to himself.
Then the knock came. Not sharp or impatient. Polite, controlled, timed so precisely it felt practiced.
Julian opened the door. A staff member stood there in navy-and-white livery that matched the dorm's palette without quite calling itself a uniform. Tasteful. Professional. Her hair was tied into a neat bun. Her posture was polite without being servile. The tray in her hands looked balanced in a way that suggested she could walk through an earthquake and still not spill tea.
"Good morning, Mr. Ashford." she said.
Julian blinked once. He hadn't gotten used to that either: being addressed with that kind of smooth formality by someone who wasn't trying to flatter him, someone who was simply doing their job.
"Morning." he replied, then caught himself and adjusted. "Thank you."
She stepped in just enough to set the tray down on the small table near the sitting area, movements efficient and quiet. She asked, as if reciting a standard checklist. "The staff probably told you yesterday, but you didn't filled your food restriction form yet. Any restrictions I should note? Allergies? Preferences?"
Julian shook his head. "Yeah, they mentioned. I answered, but had no idea about that form. Anyway, no restrictions, I'll fill it out later. And… could I ask your name?"
The staff member paused, just a fraction. Not startled. More like surprised that the question had been asked at all. It was surprising that this happened both times he required something so simple.
"Lena." she said.
Julian nodded once, committing it. "Thank you, Lena. Really. And… please thank the chef once again for me."
For the first time, her expression shifted. Not into a smile, exactly. Something softer, warmer. Human.
"I will." she said. "Enjoy your breakfast."
When the door closed behind her, Julian stood there for a moment with his hand still on the handle.
He wasn't naïve enough to think that politeness to staff was some heroic act. He'd seen Obelisk students treat staff well too: some out of genuine respect, some out of habit, some because they understood appearances had value. But Julian also knew the academy's social ecosystem fed on tiny tells, and kindness was one of them. One that did not cost him absolutely nothing.
He sat down, and the food smelled incredible. Even the fruit looked like it had been chosen by someone who cared whether it was at peak ripeness. The tea was fragrant. The toast was warm.
Julian ate slowly. Not because he was savoring it like in some reality tv show judge thingy, but because, for the first time in a long time, he could eat calculating the rest of the day as a sequence of obstacles. All was done and clear, there was no rush. He could just… eat.
After breakfast, he left. The Obelisk dorm corridors were wide and quiet, more like a hotel than a school. Doors were spaced far enough apart that you didn't hear your neighbors. Students moved without urgency, not because they didn't care, but because they didn't have to prove they were fighting for resources every morning.
Outside, the island air hit him: salt and sun and the faint smell of ocean. He began the walk toward the academic building.
The path was familiar in geography, but not in feeling. In Ra, he'd walked with a sense of being part of a moving crowd. Here, he walked with space around him, and space always invited attention.
He passed other students. Some nodded politely. Some didn't acknowledge him. Some looked at him for that half-second longer than manners required. Not openly hostile. Not openly welcoming.
Evaluating.
He caught fragments of conversation as he walked past groups, low voices for all other dorms, not meant for him but not guarded against him either.
"…that's him."
"…already got the jacket like he's been here all his life."
"…he doesn't look lost. That's annoying."
A laugh, controlled.
"He's walking like he came in as Obelisk."
Julian didn't react.
He let the words pass through him and file themselves away like data. He knew what they were really saying: He's not performing nervousness for us. He's not acting grateful. He's not acting scared.
Which meant one of two things in their minds. Either he was arrogant, or he was dangerous. As always, let the mystery shown its own kind of charm and take things by itself.
Julian just kept his pace even. When he reached the academic building, the shift was immediate: more bodies, more noise, more movement. The corridors smelled like paper and perfume and the faint metallic tang of duel disks. Students in different colors crossed paths, Slifer red moving like a looser current, Ra yellow more structured, Obelisk blue like a quiet river with sharp rocks beneath the surface.
The classroom was already filling when Julian stepped inside.
The sound hit him first: chairs shifting, voices overlapping in half-formed conversations, the low ambient noise of students settling into routine. It was familiar in a way that cut through everything else. No banners, no privileges. No staff hovering at a respectful distance. Just desks, light filtering through tall windows, and the faint smell of paper and ink.
For a moment, he almost relaxed. Then he stopped just inside the doorway.
Not because anyone was staring, at least not overtly, but because he knew, with a clarity that had nothing to do with rules and everything to do with custom, that he could not sit where he used to.
There was no written regulation about it. No posted chart. But the pattern was there, as rigid as any seating arrangement enforced by authority. Slifer clustered together at the front. Ra gathered near the center. Obelisk took the seats with the cleanest sightlines at the top, the angles that suggested confidence rather than deference.
Before, the group had found a way around it.
Julian and Bastion had always taken seats at the edge of Ra's territory, close enough that Syrus and Jaden could mirror them from the Slifer side. A quiet defiance, but a soft one. A shared space at the boundary, where no one had to be excluded and no message had to be sent louder than necessary.
Now, that geometry no longer existed.
Julian's eyes flicked, almost involuntarily, toward the familiar cluster of red jackets. Jaden was already there, leaning back in his chair, hands laced behind his head, laughing at something Syrus said too quietly to carry across the room. Bastion sat beside the other yellow student, posture precise, notebook already open even though class hadn't begun.
For a heartbeat, Julian considered it. Sitting there anyway, breaking the silent rule outright.
But he could feel the weight of it. The way such a choice would echo beyond the room, beyond the day. The whispers it would generate, the interpretations layered onto it. A challenge, not just to habit, but to the system itself. A declaration he wasn't sure he was ready to make, not yet.
It would be possible to make a similar arrangement now between the yellow and the blue areas, but that meant that there would be no place for Jaden to shift without becoming the odd one out. Therefore, no matter the choice, one of them would be out.
Julian exhaled slowly and made a decision. He caught Jaden's eye and gave a small wave. Nothing dramatic, just acknowledgment. Bastion noticed too, offering a brief nod in return. Syrus hesitated, then smiled. Tight, but genuine.
That would have to be enough for now.
Julian turned and crossed the room instead, moving toward the cluster of blue uniforms near the back-middle rows. Alexis looked up first, her expression flickering through surprise into something warm and composed. Mindy noticed a second later, elbowing Jasmine lightly before straightening in her seat.
Julian stopped beside them and leaned in just enough to keep his voice low.
"Morning." he said.
Alexis smiled. "Good morning. You survived the royal treatment, I see."
"Barely." he replied dryly, taking the empty seat beside them. Mindy smirked. Jasmine offered a polite nod. "They tell you about the politics, the duels, the words. They never tell you about that goddamn bed. Or the bath."
And as he settled, Julian felt something unexpected loosen in his chest.
For this moment, just this one, it wasn't about him.
Crowley hadn't entered yet. No announcements had been made. No eyes were measuring his posture, his expression, his worth. The classroom held them all under the same quiet scrutiny, the same expectation of attention and discipline.
Here, the system's gaze was diffused. Shared. Julian let himself sit back, shoulders easing, hands resting lightly on the desk.
Just another student. The thought felt almost indulgent. And for the space of a few breaths, wonderfully normal.
A couple minutes passed by before Crowler entered the classroom in the most Crowler way possible, like the teacher area was a stage for his performance of a lesson, almost like he expected applause on entering, like the first appearance of an actor on a play. He was immaculate as always, hair perfect, posture like he'd been carved from self-importance. But Julian knew better now. Crowler loved theater, yes… but he also loved control, and he guarded his authority like it was oxygen.
Today, Crowler taught Practical Applications with the same crisp precision as ever. He spoke about sequencing. About resource management. About how dueling wasn't just playing strong cards, but understanding timing windows, risk management, the difference between a "safe line" and a "winning line." When to wait and when to move for the kill.
His gaze occasionally swept the room and lingered, briefly, on Julian.
Not accusing or praising. Just taking measure.
Julian answered when called upon. Not too quickly or eagerly. Correct, calm, controlled, like he always did. He did not give Crowler a performance, just answered in kind with competence.
The class went by fast for him, a four-hour marathon vanished like it was defied by the activation of a counter trap. When the lecture reached its end, Crowler closed his notes with a sharp, satisfied motion.
"That will be all, students." he announced. "You are dismissed for today."
Chairs scraped. Students stood. The usual movement began: bags gathered, conversations sparked, bodies flowing toward lunch.
Crowler lifted his voice again, smoother this time. "Mr. Ashford. Please remain."
It wasn't shouted. It didn't need to be. It landed in the room like a stamp. A ripple of curiosity ran through the students. Some slowed. Some pretended not to. Julian didn't look at them.
He rose, slung his bag over one shoulder, and turned slightly toward the aisle where his friends would pass.
Bastion was closest, eyes narrowing with immediate analysis. Syrus's face tightened in instinctive worry. Jaden, if Jaden were there (obviously he already rushed to gather a good place on the line), would have looked confused and mildly offended on Julian's behalf, as if the idea of a teacher calling someone back was a personal insult to fun itself.
Julian gave them a small gesture: go on.
"It's fine." he said quietly, not to Crowler, but to them. "I'll catch up."
Bastion hesitated, then nodded. Syrus looked like he wanted to argue, then didn't. The group filtered out with the rest.
The room emptied. Crowler waited until the last student had left, until the door had shut, until the noise of the corridor became a muffled backdrop.
Only then did he speak.
He adjusted his vest's button with two fingers, expression composed into something that could pass for benign professionalism if you didn't know how to read the sharpness beneath.
"Mr. Ashford." Crowler said. "It seems you were able to make profit from your little shindig."
Julian's expression remained neutral. "Yes, Professor."
Crowler's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. More like the idea of one.
"It is… unusual." he continued. "For a student to transition into my dormitory with such… momentum. I'm at least glad you made good use of that unfortunate arrangement."
My dormitory, Julian noted. Not the dormitory. Not Obelisk's dormitory. Crowler didn't see himself as a caretaker. He saw himself as a gatekeeper.
Julian held Crowler's gaze. "Yes, sir. I've been busy."
Crowler's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes. Busy." His tone suggested the word had multiple meanings. "The academy has had a most… eventful week."
Julian didn't answer.
Crowler stepped away from the desk and moved closer, not aggressively, but with the practiced confidence of someone who knew the room belonged to him.
"As you are no doubt aware..." Crowler said. "I am not merely an instructor. I am the General Director of Practical Applications."
Julian inclined his head. "Yes, sir."
"Also…" Crowler added, voice sharpening with a hint of pride, "as head professor responsible for the male Obelisk dormitory, I am tasked with maintaining the standards and… cultural integrity of that house."
There it was. Standards. Integrity. The polite language of control.
Julian kept his face calm. "Of course."
Crowler studied him for a moment. Julian could almost see the internal calculation happening: how much pressure to apply, how much politeness to perform, how much warning to deliver without sounding threatened.
Finally, Crowler said. "I'll be honest. You have done something remarkable, Mr. Ashford."
Julian's brow lifted a fraction. "Have I?"
Crowler's lips pressed together briefly, as if irritated that Julian wasn't playing the expected role.
"Yes." Crowler said. "You have survived the promotional examinations. You have secured a duel outcome that the academy has… accepted. And you have managed to do so without embarrassing the institution in a way that would force my hand. I'm not sure that even our Kaiser would show such political prowess that soon."
Julian let that sit. It wasn't a compliment. It was a boundary: I allowed this because it did not make me look bad. Because you honoured our arrangement.
Crowler continued. "However."
Julian waited.
Crowler's voice lowered slightly. "Obelisk is not Ra. It is not Slifer." He said the names like they were different species. "It is not a place where cleverness alone grants you immunity. It is a place where reputation is currency, and where missteps cost more than they do elsewhere."
Julian's eyes stayed steady. "So you called me back to warn me?"
Crowler's nostrils flared faintly.
"I called you back because your presence in Obelisk will generate… conversation. And conversation, Mr. Ashford, is not always harmless." Crowler said.
Julian nodded once. "I've noticed."
Crowler's gaze sharpened. "Have you?"
"Yes." Julian said simply. "The whole Nightmare-Eyes ordeal, and the information battle…"
Crowler paused. He hadn't expected that kind of direct answer.
Julian continued, tone even. "By keeping the mystery, they're still deciding whether I'm arrogant or dangerous. Or both."
Crowler's mouth tightened. "And what conclusion would you prefer they reach?"
Julian's expression didn't change. "Whichever keeps them from being stupid."
For a moment, Crowler looked almost offended, then, unexpectedly, his expression shifted into something like reluctant approval. Almost.
"You have a sharp tongue." Crowler noticed.
"I've had practice, sir." Julian replied.
Crowler's eyes narrowed again. "Mr. Ashford… do not mistake your recent success for invincibility."
Julian met his gaze. "That's for sure. I'm far from invincible."
Crowler nodded once, as if pleased by that admission, then leaned slightly forward. "But you are visible."
Julian already knew, but felt the truth of that word like a hook. Visible meant watched. Watched meant tested. Tested meant that even breathing wrong could become an accusation.
Crowler straightened.
"There are rules, yes." he said. "Both written and unwritten, within Obelisk. The written rules you can learn. The unwritten rules you will either internalize… or suffer."
Julian didn't flinch. "And you're here to teach me the unwritten rules?"
Crowler's gaze flicked with irritation, but also again, calculation.
"I am here…" Crowler said, choosing each word. "To ensure you understand that your actions reflect not only on yourself, but on the dormitory that now bears your name."
Bears your name.
Julian nodded slowly. "So my behavior does not become your problem."
Crowler's eyes narrowed, but he didn't deny it. Julian let a beat pass, then spoke with a calm that had teeth beneath it.
"I didn't come here to make your life harder, Professor."
Crowler scoffed lightly. "How gracious."
Julian continued anyway. "I am where I am because I earned it."
Crowler's jaw tightened. Julian didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
"And because the academy validated it," he added, "publicly."
Crowler held his gaze.
They both understood the subtext: You can't undo this without drawing attention to the fact that you're undoing it.
Crowler's voice softened into a more dangerous kind of politeness.
"You are clever." he said. "I grant you that. But clever students often make the same mistake. They think cleverness makes them… untouchable."
Julian's eyes didn't move. "That would be stupid."
Crowler's mouth twitched, almost unwillingly.
Then, like a man changing tracks mid-conversation, he stepped back.
"Very well." Crowler said. "Then I will speak plainly."
Julian waited.
"Obelisk will not attack you head-on." Crowler said. "Not the ones worth fearing. They will wait. They will smile. They will invite you into rooms and watch what you do with the invitation."
Julian listened.
Crowler's gaze sharpened. "They will test whether you can behave like someone who belongs."
Julian's voice was quiet. "And if I don't?"
Crowler's tone was almost gleeful in its cruelty, the way he sometimes got when describing someone else's failure.
"Then you will be treated," Crowler said, "as a temporary curiosity."
Julian breathed out slowly.
Crowler continued, softer now. "And the dormitory does not enjoy temporary curiosities for long."
Julian nodded once. "Noted."
Crowler watched him for another moment, then said, with a thin, forced casualness. "One more thing."
Julian didn't move. "Yes?"
Crowler's eyes narrowed. "Your… associations."
Julian's expression remained neutral. "My friends?"
Crowler didn't say yes, but he didn't say no either.
"Obelisk students may be cordial..." Crowler said. "But there are limits. You will find those limits faster than you expect. You did well in sitting with Miss Rhodes and her friends today."
Julian's voice stayed calm. "I'm not planning on abandoning them. Respecting the rules does not mean I have to throw them away like yesterday's garbage. After all, they also can ascend."
Crowler's smile thinned. "How noble. Are you sure of that?"
Julian didn't take the bait. "The previous world champion's heir, the Kaiser younger brother and a once in a generation brainiac? Yeah, pretty sure. They are not there yet, but they will."
For a fraction of a second, Crowler looked like he wanted to snap back with something theatrical. Then he restrained himself, because Crowler, for all his vanity, wasn't stupid. He folded his hands behind his back, posture immaculate.
"Remember that Obelisk requires more from its students than academic excellence or dueling capabilities. Anyway… I did not call you here to lecture you on sentiment." Crowler said. "I called you here to ensure you understand the terrain."
Julian nodded. "I do."
Crowler's eyes narrowed again. "Do you?"
Julian's gaze held steady. "Enough to know I'm still learning. I'll not throw myself blindly against people that lived under those rules for their entire lives for no good reason."
Crowler stared at him for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, his expression softened by a fraction: not warmth, not kindness, but something like professional acknowledgment.
"Good." Crowler said. "Then you may survive."
Julian tilted his head slightly. "Is that supposed to be encouragement?"
Crowler scoffed. "Just plain reality."
Julian nodded once, accepting it for what it was.
Crowler turned back toward his desk, fingers tapping the edge of his notes like he was closing a file.
"You are dismissed." Crowler said, voice returning to its normal lecture cadence. "Do not be late to my class, Mr. Ashford."
Julian blinked once. "I wasn't late."
Crowler's shoulders stiffened.
Julian's mouth quirked, barely. "But I understand the message. I'll not let the quirks or the luxury stop me. Thank you, sir."
Crowler did not respond.
Julian turned and walked toward the door.
As he opened it, corridor noise rushed in again. Voices, footsteps, the living hum of the academy. He stepped out with his bag on his shoulder, posture composed, and closed the door behind him with a quiet click.
He didn't look back, but he could feel it: the way Crowler had looked at him.
Not only as a student. As an element that had entered his domain and would require… management.
Julian exhaled slowly as he walked. His morning had been warm sheets, silent corridors, and breakfast served on a tray like a promise.
And then Crowler had reminded him, in a room emptied of witnesses, what those promises really were.
Obelisk didn't give you comfort because you deserved it. They gave you comfort because it expected you to become something in exchange.
Julian's expression stayed calm, but inside, something hard and clear settled into place.
He quickened his pace toward where his friends would be gathering for lunch.
By the time Julian stepped into the cafeteria, the space had already settled into its midday rhythm.
The initial surge had already passed. At least the one with the mass of students being released from classrooms, the scrape of chairs, the brief chaos of lines forming and dissolving. Now it was noise without urgency. Conversation layered over conversation. Cutlery against ceramic. The steady, institutional hum of a place designed to feed hundreds of students at once and pretend that this was all perfectly normal.
Julian paused just inside the entrance, letting his eyes adjust. He spotted his friends almost immediately.
They had claimed one of the long tables near the windows, where the light cut across polished surfaces and softened the edges of everything it touched. Alexis sat near the center, posture relaxed but composed, her tray already half-finished. Mindy lounged beside her with one leg hooked around the chair, animatedly talking with her hands. Jasmine sat opposite them, listening more than speaking, her attention flicking between the conversation and the room beyond the glass.
Bastion and Syrus were seated together, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. Bastion was gesturing at something on his DuelPad, no doubt mid-explanation. Syrus leaned in, nodding along, expression earnest and focused.
And Jaden… Jaden was turned halfway in his seat, talking to another student at a neighboring table, grinning like he'd known them his whole life.
Julian exhaled. Finally, some space to properly convey and talk to his friends without having so many rules to live by.
He crossed the room at an unhurried pace. There were looks, there were always looks now, but nothing sharp enough to snag on. A few Obelisk students glanced up, curious rather than confrontational. A handful of Ra students noticed him and then, pointedly, went back to their meals.
It felt… tolerable. When Julian reached the table, Mindy was the first to notice him.
"There he is." she said, flashing a grin. "We were starting to think Crowler had locked you in a supply closet."
"Tempting." Julian replied dryly, setting his tray down. "But no. Just a conversation."
Alexis shifted to make room for him. "Everything alright?"
Julian nodded as he sat. "Productive, I guess." he said, which was the most honest answer he could give without unpacking it.
Jaden finally turned back to the table, eyes lighting up. "Hey! There you are. You missed Bastion going full lecture mode."
"I did not." Bastion protested immediately. "I was clarifying a misunderstanding Syrus had."
"You pulled up diagrams, man." Jaden said. "That's lecture mode."
Syrus smiled faintly. "They were helpful, though. Thanks."
Bastion preened just a little.
Julian watched the exchange with a quiet smile, then glanced down at his still-empty tray. He set it against the edge of the table and pushed his chair back.
"I'll be right back." he said. "I need to grab my food."
Jaden blinked. "Uh… Good luck with that, buddy."
He gestured vaguely over Julian's shoulder, toward the service area. Even from here, it was easy to see the reality of it: a dense, slow-moving line of students snaking its way past the counters, trays stacked high, the usual controlled chaos of lunch hour in full swing.
"You were stuck with Crowler back there." Jaden added sympathetically. "Best case scenario, you're getting whatever survived the first wave."
Mindy snorted. "I believe he will be a little more successful than that.."
Julian just shrugged and picked up his tray. "Yeah… I'll manage."
Julian didn't rush. There was no need to. He bypassed the main line entirely.
Instead, he stepped toward the narrower counter off to the side, marked with understated gold lettering rather than bold signage. A staff member looked up as he approached, her expression shifting smoothly from neutral to polite recognition.
"Julian Ashford." she said, checking her screen. Not a question.
"That's me." Julian replied.
She smiled. "Your lunch is ready."
From behind the counter, another staff member retrieved a plated dish already prepared, steam rising faintly from its surface. The presentation was careful without being ostentatious. Good food, clean presentation, deliberate portions, nothing wasted.
No waiting. No negotiation. No rush.
Julian accepted it with a quiet thank you, then turned back toward the table. By the time he reached them, Jaden was openly gaping.
"No way." he said. "No way. You were gone for, like, thirty seconds."
Julian set the plate down calmly. "Obelisk perk."
Bastion adjusted his glasses, eyes flicking to the dish and then back to Julian. "Pre-prepared service, it seems." he noted. "Priority access. I never noticed."
Alexis smiled knowingly. "Nice not having to sprint out of class, huh?" she said lightly. "You get used to it."
Jaden leaned closer, inspecting the plate. "That's not even cafeteria food, man." he said. "That's… restaurant food."
Julian smirked. "Still counts as lunch. Come on, make a room and I'll think about cutting you a piece."
Jaden moved his chair a little to the left before leaning back, hands behind his head. "Man. Maybe I should aim for blue someday."
Mindy laughed. "See? Incentive."
"Don't let the steak distract you." Jasmine added gently. "They still expect results and the whole ordeal."
Julian met her gaze and inclined his head, acknowledging the truth of it and finally sat down, joining them properly as the conversation flowed back into place.
For a while, the conversation stayed light.
Jaden complained about a pop quiz he was absolutely sure he'd aced and probably hadn't. Bastion corrected him ("But come on, it was about Battling, not rules!"). Jasmine gently suggested that maybe 'going with his feeling' on every answer wasn't a nice strategy. Jaden insisted it absolutely was, and that it won him duels.
Julian found himself listening more than speaking, content to just appreciate the food and… be there.
It struck him, suddenly, how rare this felt lately. How often being around people had come with an edge: expectation, scrutiny, performance. Here, at this table, it felt closer to what it used to be. Not untouched by everything that had happened, but not defined by it either.
A small pocket of normal. His gaze drifted, briefly, around the cafeteria.
There were still eyes on them, but now, on the entire group. That hadn't gone away. A group of Obelisk boys near the far wall watched with thinly veiled interest, murmuring among themselves. A few Ra students whispered, glancing between Julian and Syrus. A group composed of students of all dorms having three of the most attractive girls amongst the first years? Yeah, he could guess why.
Julian didn't flinch. Let them look. He just took another bite, savoring the warmth.
Jaden, predictably, broke the lull.
"So…" he said around a mouthful of food. "Anyone else feel like today's been weirdly… quiet?"
Bastion frowned. "Statistically…"
Julian shot him a look.
Bastion sighed. "Fine. Subjectively. Yes. It has been quieter."
"Right?" Jaden said. "Like the world's taking a breath or something."
Julian considered that. "I'll take some peace after the whole promotion ordeal. There are still challenges, but at least we dealt with the worse of the bunch. How are the new reds? Regretting their decision yet?"
Syrus's fork paused mid-air. Julian noticed.
Jaden leaned back in his chair once again, tumbling his fingers precariously on the table for a moment before settling again. "Regretting, huh?" he echoed. "I guess… But that depends on what you mean by that."
Bastion folded his hands, thinking. "How so?"
Jaden nodded. "If they are suffering for what they did? Totally. They complain all the time."
Syrus's eyes flicked toward him, uncertain.
"About the beds…" Jaden continued, raising his fingers on every single item. "About the noise. About how there's never any quiet. About not having space. About sharing showers. About food running out. One of them wouldn't shut up yesterday about how his sheets 'smelled like someone else.'"
Mindy grimaced. "Well, welcome to reality."
"They hate it." Jaden added. "Like… viscerally hate it."
Julian absorbed that in silence at first, before finally questioning. "And?"
Jaden scratched the back of his head. "And… yeah. That's kinda where it stops."
Bastion exhaled slowly. "So there has been no meaningful acknowledgment of wrongdoing. No reflection on their behavior toward Syrus. Probably the dominant narrative amongst them is that the punishment was excessive."
"Like it was unfair." Jasmine said quietly.
"Yeah." Jaden confirmed. "They tell it as an institutional over-something. Don't remember the word. Like it was favoritism. An overreaction to 'a misunderstanding.'"
Syrus's grip tightened slightly around his fork.
Julian's jaw set. Not angrily, but with that quiet narrowing that meant he was paying attention. "So, they're upset about losing comfort and being shunned from the others. Not about what they did."
Jaden shrugged, uncomfortable. "Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."
"I heard them talking after classes about how Obelisk 'went soft,'" Mindy added. "Or how it's dangerous now, that anyone can be dragged down if the administration feels like it."
Julian let out a short breath through his nose. "Oh no, they figured it out that rules exist in the academy for the first time of their lives."
A little collective laughter crossed the group for a moment. Syrus, however, stared down at his plate, appetite suddenly distant.
"They don't look at you, Sy. Probably they are to scared of our resident boogey-man over here." Jaden said, giving pats on Julian's shoulder.
Syrus nodded once. Small. Controlled. Julian reached for his glass, buying himself a second before speaking. When he did, his voice was steady.
"Honestly… That's about what I expected. If that fear keeps them on the line and of Sy's back, they can be scared all they want."
Bastion glanced at Syrus. "Regret…" he said, choosing his words with care. "Often requires first accepting that one's actions were wrong. That threshold has not been crossed."
Syrus gave a faint, humorless smile. "So they're sorry they fell." he murmured. "Not about what they did."
No one contradicted him. Julian's gaze softened: not pity, not anger. Something firmer.
"Maybe the experience in the lower dorms will change their views one day, maybe not. What matters is that what they did was wrong and they were punished for it. If they are redeemable as students or not, I honestly don't care."
Syrus finally looked up.
"The important part is, it doesn't have to be your problem anymore." Julian added gently.
Syrus held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. This time, more fully.
Jaden broke the tension with a forced grin. "Hey, for what it's worth? The Red dorm's been quieter since they showed up."
Mindy snorted. "Probably because everyone's too busy telling them to shut up."
That earned a weak chuckle from Syrus.
Julian let the moment breathe, then took another bite of his food, grounding them all back in the present.
Peace, he thought, wasn't the same thing as justice. But sometimes, it was a start.
Syrus shifted in his seat, then took a breath.
"Um…" he said, voice quieter but steady. "Julian?"
Julian turned fully toward him. "Yeah?"
Syrus hesitated. Not from fear, Julian realized, but from choosing his words carefully.
"I was thinking…" Syrus began. "About… after classes. If you're not too busy."
Julian waited.
"I want to start practicing..." Syrus said. "With the new deck."
The table fell quiet. Even Jaden leaned in, expression open and encouraging.
Julian studied Syrus's face. There was no excitement there. No bravado. Just determination layered over lingering nerves, like having better duel results would reinforce his confidence and make him go past what happened in the previous week. This wasn't about showing off or chasing power by itself. It was about growth.
"I know it's quite different from my Vehicroid deck." Syrus continued. "And I know it's stronger than what I'm used to. But I don't want to just… hold onto it. I want to understand it. Even if it's hard."
Julian felt a familiar mix of pride and protectiveness stir in his chest.
"That's a good instinct." he said calmly. "And yeah. We can start."
Syrus let out a breath he'd clearly been holding, shoulders dropping just a fraction.
Bastion's eyes lit up. "From a structural standpoint, it's a fascinating shift." he said, already halfway into analysis. "Union mechanics reward planning several turns ahead. Proper sequencing and planning are key."
Jaden grinned. "Translation: you're gonna mess up a bunch at first."
Syrus winced, then smiled. "Probably."
"And that's fine." Julian said. "That's how you learn."
Alexis nodded approvingly. "Even Yugi said in his documentary that he messed up a lot in his first few months." she added gently. "And you are making quite a change."
Syrus looked at her, surprised, then nodded.
Julian caught the look. Filed it away.
This… this was what mattered. Not the deck. Not the dorms. Not the colors stitched onto their jackets. This moment. This choice.
The bell rang then, sharp and insistent.
Chairs scraped back. Trays were gathered. The cafeteria began to empty in waves.
Julian stood with the others, slinging his bag over his shoulder. As they moved toward the exit together, he felt that familiar sense of momentum return: not of pressure or urgency. Simply direction.
Syrus walked a little closer to him now.
"I'm glad that you said yes." Syrus said quietly. "I was afraid you were dealing with too much on the blue dorm to be able to help me now."
Julian smiled, passing his arm over the shorter boy's shoulder. "Honestly, I am. And some time apart from it is just what the doctor ordered."
Ahead of them, Jaden was already talking about snacks, Bastion was arguing about the spiritual training schedules, and the girls were debating whether Jasmine's shield was good enough already or not.
The grass near the Slifer dorm still held the midday warmth, sun-baked in patches and cool in others where the shade of a lone tree cut a clean line across the field. It wasn't an official training ground: no painted boundaries, no benches, no posted rules, just the open stretch of green that few students used when they didn't want eyes on them. That which, lately, had become the point.
They drifted out from the main building in ones and twos, like a group trying very hard not to look like a group. Jaden took the long way around for no reason except that he always did, hands behind his head and humming something indistinct. Bastion walked with his DuelPad tucked under his arm like it was a textbook, his gaze scanning the sky and then the ground as if he were cataloguing variables. Syrus stayed close to Julian's shoulder without quite pressing into it, a habit that had grown out of necessity and hadn't faded yet. Alexis, Mindy, and Jasmine followed together, blue uniforms in a place that had been dominated by red, their presence already enough to draw a few casual looks from passing Slifers who didn't know whether to be impressed or suspicious.
They chose a patch of grass with a clear view of the dorm from afar and the path leading back toward the school. The same usual place of their previous iterations for spiritual training before.
Jaden dropped first, flopping down like the earth was a mattress and he'd been personally betrayed by the existence of chairs. "Ahh. Much better. The lunch tables are way too… table-y."
Mindy rolled her eyes. "Tragic. Wood and structure. How did you survive?"
"Grit and determination." Jaden replied solemnly, then immediately grinned at Syrus. "Okay, Sy. Show us the new toys."
Syrus's fingers tightened around the deck box in his hands. The plastic looked newer than anything he'd ever carried before. Clean edges. No nicks, no tape. It didn't have the worn-in familiarity of his old box or the faintly softened corners that came from being shoved into a bag a thousand times.
"Not toys." Syrus said automatically, because correcting Jaden was muscle memory by now.
Jaden's grin widened. "Tools? Friends?"
Syrus hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, I guess a bit of both."
Bastion sat down more carefully than Jaden, legs folding with deliberate control, and set his DuelPad beside him. His eyes were already on Syrus's deck box like it was a math problem he'd been promised he could solve.
Alexis lowered herself onto the grass with a kind of practiced grace that made it clear she'd done this in a skirt uniform before and survived. Jasmine sat beside her, smoothing her skirt and glancing around once, as if noting who might be watching. Mindy propped herself on one arm, posture loose, expression sharper than her languid pose suggested.
Julian spread a folded cloth, something plain and utilitarian he'd taken from his room before leaving. It wasn't exactly a picnic blanket, but it served the purpose: a clean place to set cards, a shared center, a small piece of order in a world that liked to test them.
He felt the familiar ripple at the edge of his awareness before he saw it.
A few paces away, near the tree line, the children of the Reject Well lingered like a handful of curious birds. They didn't need to hide, not here. Most students' eyes slid off them, unable to capture their existence. They perched and hovered and watched, curious about the deck box and the way Syrus held it like it might bite.
Julian tipped his head slightly in their direction, a silent permission.
Petit Dragon drifted closer and crouched near the cloth, eyes bright. Happy Lover hung back and made a face as if the grass itself offended him. Skull Servant sat cross-legged without making a sound, looking at Syrus's hands the way you looked at someone holding a fragile glass.
Syrus's gaze flicked toward them, uncertain. He didn't ask. He didn't need to. He'd learned the shape of Julian's world well enough to accept its uniqueness.
Julian set his own Duel Disk aside and kept his hands empty. "No pressure." he said to Syrus, voice low enough that it belonged to the group rather than the field. "This isn't a performance."
Syrus let out a breath that sounded like it had been trapped behind his ribs since last night. "Yeah…" he murmured. "I know."
But Julian could see the lie in his posture.
New deck, new dorm. New attention. The expectations were now higher. Syrus had been promoted, yes, but promotion didn't erase old instincts. It just gave them a new place to show up.
"Alright." Julian said, keeping his tone light but steady. "Let's treat this like… a driving lesson."
Jaden blinked. "Are you saying Syrus is gonna crash?"
"Only if he tries to drift." Mindy said sweetly.
Syrus made a small noise of protest. "I don't… I'm not going to!"
Alexis's lips quirked. "He won't crash. He'll just learn where the brakes are."
Bastion nodded once, as if that was a sensible framework. "And where the engine is. And the steering column. And what the buttons do."
Jaden leaned closer. "And how to do donuts."
Julian ignored him with practiced ease. "Show us your starting hand." he told Syrus. He appeared to consider the request strange. "Not because we're cheating. Because we're training. We'll do a few 'open-hand' lines. See where your instincts take you."
Syrus hesitated, then nodded. He opened the deck box and drew five, fanning them in a tight arc.
Even without the holograms, the names alone felt like weight.
Union Hangar, Gold Gadget, A-Assault Core, Unauthorized Reactivation, Field Barrier.
Syrus stared at them for half a second too long. The way his eyes moved said he wasn't reading. He was remembering what he'd seen, trying to anchor himself.
Bastion exhaled through his nose, pleased in that purely academic way. "That's functional."
"Functional is a nice way of saying 'terrifying'." Jaden offered.
"It's not terrifying." Syrus said, then faltered. "I mean… it is. A little. But…"
Julian held up a hand. "Okay. Tell me what you want to do."
Syrus swallowed. "Hangar first."
"Why?" Julian asked gently, the question not a test but an invitation.
Syrus's brows pinched. "Because it searches one of the pieces… and then… Hangar equips when you Special Summon…"
"And you have Gold Gadget." Alexis added, her tone supportive rather than intrusive. "So you can trigger it."
Syrus nodded quickly, grateful for the assist. "Yeah. So I activate Union Hangar."
He placed the card down on the cloth like it was a ritual offering. In his mind, the hologram rose anyway: steel beams and mechanical arms, a perfect industrial cathedral that did not belong on a sunny patch of grass.
Bastion's eyes were already tracking the line. "Add A-Assault Core."
"I already have A-Assault." Syrus said, then winced as the words left him, realizing he'd spoken too fast.
Julian didn't pounce. He only tipped his head. "So what do you add instead?"
Syrus blinked. "One of the others, I guess?"
Mindy lifted her brows. "Aw."
Jasmine's voice was quiet. "You can also equip from deck later, though. The field is still your engine."
Julian nodded. "Exactly. Hangar isn't just a search. It's a scaffold. So you keep going."
Syrus tried to recover, a flush creeping up his neck. "Okay. Normal Summon Gold Gadget. Then Special Summon A-Assault from my hand."
"Now Hangar equips." Julian prompted.
Syrus nodded sharply, and his fingers tapped the cloth as if the effect would trigger faster if he hurried. "Equip C-Crush Wyvern."
His shoulders loosened a fraction. He looked up, seeking Julian's expression like a compass.
Julian gave him a small nod. "Good. Now. What's your instinct?"
Syrus didn't hesitate this time. "Make ABC."
Jaden let out a low whistle. "Straight to the boss."
Alexis's gaze narrowed thoughtfully. "That's the temptation."
Bastion's mouth pressed into a line. "It's not wrong, but it can be premature."
Syrus's eyes flicked between them. "But… it's strong. Three thousand attack. It has removal. And it can tag out."
Julian watched him, and for a second he didn't see a duelist. He saw a boy who had spent years playing a deck that asked him to take small, safe steps: Vehicroids that could survive a little, chip a little, stall a little. A boy who had learned caution because caution was the difference between being laughed at and being allowed to exist.
And now he held a blade. Of course he wanted to swing it.
Julian kept his voice calm. "Tell me what you lose if you summon it right now."
Syrus frowned. "I lose… the pieces."
"And what do you lose besides the pieces?" Julian asked.
Syrus stared at the cards on the cloth as if the answer might be printed in the corner. "I… don't know."
Bastion spoke, not to show off but because he couldn't help it. "Tempo. Flexibility. Your board becomes one point of failure."
Mindy tilted her head. "And you make it easier for your opponent."
Syrus looked up, startled.
Alexis's tone was cooler, more pragmatic. "If you bring out your boss on turn one without protection, you're telling your opponent to just use a removal and force you to tag-out. Then, you are one copy of ABC down for almost nothing."
Jaden scratched his cheek. "Also, Julian will steal it."
Syrus made a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan. "He did that once."
Julian's mouth twitched. "I wasn't really able to, but yeah. I forced a response."
"Mm-hm." Mindy said, agreeing.
Julian leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. "Here's the thing, Sy. ABC's protection is not a force field. It's a trick. A really good trick, but it's still a trick."
Syrus's fingers tightened around the edge of his deck box. "Tagging out."
"Tagging out." Julian agreed. "Which means the monster survives by ceasing to exist. It dodges. It doesn't tank. So if you summon it too early, you invite people to answer it the way I answered it yesterday: force the tag-out on my terms and turn your boss into three smaller bodies, easier to deal with it."
Syrus's face tightened. He remembered. He remembered too well.
Julian's voice softened, just a fraction. "That doesn't mean don't ever summon it. It means… summon it when you're ready to defend the trick. When you have follow-up. When you have a plan for the plan."
Jaden leaned back and stretched. "So… what's the plan?"
Julian lifted his shoulders. "We try it both ways. Sy, do the line where you summon ABC immediately."
Syrus nodded, almost relieved to be given something concrete. He reassembled the imaginary field on the cloth with quick hands: A-Assault, C equipped, and in his mind, the B piece would be somewhere accessible.
But even as he moved, he faltered.
"I… don't have B."
Bastion's eyes sharpened. "That's the other problem. Your hand can't always support the boss."
Syrus swallowed. "So I can't make ABC yet."
Julian nodded. "You can, but let's assume for a second that is not the case. That's reality. Sometimes the deck doesn't hand you the cinematic line. You still need to play."
Syrus breathed out, frustrated, and for a moment Julian saw the old reflex: the fear of looking foolish.
"Okay." Syrus said, forcing steadiness into his voice. "So I… activate Field Barrier."
Julian nodded. "That's fine. Protect Hangar. Keep your engine."
"And Unauthorized Reactivation." Syrus added quickly. "I can set it too, right?"
Bastion tilted his head. "You can. As Julian said, you could use it to get the third piece and go for ABC, but it would be a lot. Also, think about timing. That card has a quick effect, so it is… flexible."
Alexis watched Syrus carefully. "Do you know what you're holding it for?"
Syrus hesitated. "To equip something from the hand… or from the deck…"
Mindy smiled faintly. "That's not an answer, Sy. That's a description."
Syrus flushed again. "I… I don't know yet."
Julian didn't let the moment turn cruel. "That's fine." he said, and meant it. "You don't learn a modern deck by memorizing names. You learn by learning why you're holding each piece."
Syrus hesitated with the cards still spread on the cloth, brows drawn tight in concentration.
"So… I don't fuse yet." he said slowly. It wasn't a question, but it wasn't confidence either. "I keep them… like this."
Julian didn't answer right away. He leaned forward instead, eyes on the field Syrus had constructed in miniature: Gold Gadget, A-Assault Core, C-Crush Wyvern locked onto it like armor plates waiting for a final command.
"Exactly." Julian said at last. "And tell me why."
Syrus opened his mouth, closed it again. His gaze flicked to Bastion, then back to the cards. "Because… if I fuse now, ABC doesn't actually protect itself. It survives by leaving."
Bastion nodded, pleased. "Correct. ABC-Dragon Buster's defense is displacement, not immunity."
Julian tapped the cloth once, sharply. "Which is more of a follow-up play than actually a defense by itself. You just keep the tools to dodge something troublesome and make another one down the line."
Mindy tilted her head. "Which will not always be possible."
Julian's mouth twitched. "And you have a limited number of Dragon Busters in your Extra."
He gestured to the equipped cards instead. "Now look at this board. This isn't flashy. But it's sticky."
Syrus frowned. "Sticky?"
Julian reached out and pointed, one by one.
"A-Assault Core, when equipped, makes the monster it's attached to immune to monster effects." He shifted his finger. "B-Buster Drake grants immunity to spell effects. And C-Crush Wyvern? Trap immunity."
Syrus's eyes widened.
Alexis inhaled softly. "So instead of one big threat that dodges removal…"
"…you have a smaller one that just doesn't care." Jasmine finished.
Julian nodded. "Exactly. On turn one, this is often stronger than the boss, especially without any additional protection."
Syrus stared at the setup again, seeing it differently now. "So if someone tries to… use a monster effect."
"With the right monster equipped? They bounce." Julian said calmly.
"A spell?"
"Does nothing." Julian spread his hands. "And a trap is wasted cardboard. It's all about guaranteeing you have the proper monster equipped."
Bastion adjusted his glasses. "It's a classic misdirection of perceived power. The fusion looks like the threat, so opponents hold removal for it. Meanwhile, the Union stack quietly invalidates entire categories of interaction."
Syrus swallowed. "And I didn't even think about that."
Julian didn't let that turn into self-reproach. He continued smoothly, shifting to the face-down card Syrus had set earlier.
"And that's before we talk about Unauthorized Reactivation."
Syrus looked at it instinctively. "I was going to use it to…you know, get pieces faster."
"You can." Julian agreed. "But that's the boring use."
Mindy smiled. "Uh-oh."
Julian tapped the card lightly. "Unauthorized Reactivation lets you equip a Union monster from your hand or deck to a Union monster on the field. At quick speed."
Syrus's breath caught. "So if… if my opponent activates a monster effect to get rid of him…"
"You respond with the Reactivation and search for Assault Core." Julian said. "It will grant you the protection to the monster effect mid-chain."
Bastion leaned in. "If the opponent activates a spell, same thing. You chain Reactivation and equip B-Buster Drake, granting immediate spell immunity."
Alexis picked up the thread seamlessly. "If it's a trap, C-Crush Wyvern."
Syrus looked between them, realization spreading across his face like dawn. "So it's not just protection… it's adaptive protection."
Julian smiled, slow and approving. "Now you're driving."
Jaden grinned. "And now I'm scared. Fasten your seatbelts, everyone!"
Syrus let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, shoulders relaxing for the first time since they'd sat down. "So… keeping them equipped isn't playing scared."
"No." Julian said firmly. "It's playing patient."
He met Syrus's eyes. "Everyone looks at a modern deck and go for their immediate capability of doing removal of some kind of big damage. But more often than not, their strength lie in their adaptability, in how they can protect themselves and quickly reassemble a powerful board with few pieces."
Syrus nodded slowly, fingers tightening around the cards. Not in fear this time, but in focus.
"Okay…" he said. Softer. Steadier. "I get it."
He tapped the cloth once. "Good, let's reset. New hand. We do another."
They ran three hands like that. Not fully played duels. Just opening lines, decisions, instincts. And the pattern emerged quickly.
In the second hand, Syrus overcorrected. He held back so hard he nearly did nothing, setting cards and passing in his head, saving his resources like they were heirlooms.
Mindy watched him for a moment, then spoke in a gentler tone than usual. "Sy. You're allowed to spend cards."
Syrus looked up, startled.
"You're playing like every resource is a life raft." Mindy continued. "I get it. But sometimes you have to build the boat."
Jaden nodded vigorously. "Yeah! Otherwise you're just… floating."
Syrus looked down, embarrassment and something older mixing in his expression. "I don't want to misplay."
Bastion's voice was surprisingly soft. "You will. That's how you learn."
Julian watched Syrus swallow, watched him force his hands to loosen around the deck box, watched him choose, again and again, to stay present instead of disappearing into his own fear.
It was the same courage he'd shown at the fountain.
Not strength. Just refusal.
After the third hand, Syrus set the cards down and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm like he could wipe away the frustration.
Jaden leaned over and nudged Syrus's shoulder with his own. "Hey. You're doing fine."
Syrus gave a weak sound that might have been a laugh. "I'm… not."
Jaden's grin softened. "You are. Because you're actually trying. If you were perfect on day one, that'd be… creepy."
Jasmine's lips curved faintly. "Also unrealistic."
Alexis's gaze remained steady on Syrus. "You learned Vehicroids because you loved them. You're learning this because you need it. Those are different motivations. It's normal that it feels different."
Syrus swallowed. He nodded. Then his gaze drifted, like it had been pulled by a gravity he hadn't chosen.
To his old deck box.
It sat beside him on the grass, smaller and scuffed, the plastic dulled in places where his hands had worried it over the years. He hadn't thrown it away. He hadn't put it back in his room, either. He'd brought it with him like a charm, like a piece of himself he didn't know how to leave behind.
Julian noticed the way Syrus's shoulders tightened.
He didn't press immediately. He let the silence exist for a moment, because sometimes silence was the only space a confession could step into.
Syrus's voice came quietly. "It's… weird."
Jaden tilted his head. "What is?"
Syrus didn't look at him. "Having… something this strong."
Mindy blinked. "That's not a complaint I hear often."
Syrus's mouth twitched, but the humor didn't reach his eyes. "It feels like… I'm wearing someone else's jacket."
Julian's gaze flicked down to Syrus's uniform. The yellow jacket fit him. It fit him better than red ever had. But Syrus wasn't talking about cloth.
Alexis's expression softened. "Like you haven't broken it in yet."
Syrus nodded, eyes still on the old deck box. "Like… I keep expecting it to… reject me."
Jaden's brows drew together, genuine confusion and concern in equal measure. "Sy, decks don't…"
"They do." Syrus said quickly, almost panicked. Then he stopped, realized how it sounded, and lowered his voice. "I mean… not literally. But…"
Julian did not speak about the rejection aspect, he already felt that on his skin and knew very well of its truth, but that was not the case here. He just spoke, calm and sure. "But you learned to trust your old deck. And now you're being asked to trust a new one."
Syrus swallowed hard. His fingers drifted toward the worn box, hovered over it, then retreated like touching it might hurt.
Jasmine's voice was careful. "Do you… miss it?"
Syrus's eyes flicked up, and there was something raw in them that he couldn't quite hide. "Yeah."
The word landed without drama. Just truth.
He took a breath, shaky but controlled. "I've had it since I was little."
Jaden leaned forward, expression earnest. "Since when?"
Syrus hesitated, as if measuring whether the story was worth telling. Then, quietly: "Since I was eight."
Even Alexis looked faintly surprised.
Syrus's fingers finally touched the edge of the old box. "I saw it first in a shop window. Not the whole deck, just… a couple of the cards. Steam Gyroid, Patroid, Jetroid."
Jaden's face lit up immediately. "That's awesome!"
Syrus nodded, a faint smile flickering like a weak signal. "I thought so too. It looked… goofy. But strong. Like it was made out of parts that shouldn't fit together, and it still worked."
Bastion's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "A machine built from mismatched components. That's… thematically resonant."
Mindy shot him a look. "Bastion, please don't psychoanalyze the toy robot."
"It's not a toy…" Bastion began.
Syrus's smile grew, tiny, and for a heartbeat the tension eased. Then it faded again as the memory deepened.
"I wanted it." Syrus continued, voice low. "Really wanted it. But I didn't ask. I knew it was expensive. And… I didn't want to be selfish."
Julian felt something twist in his chest. Not pity, not exactly, but the sharp recognition of a child learning to shrink himself to fit inside other people's budgets.
Syrus's fingers tightened around the box. "Zane found out anyway."
The name shifted the air.
Even now, even after everything, Zane Truesdale was a kind of landmark in the academy's psyche. A figure people navigated around without realizing they were doing it.
Syrus didn't look up. "He was ten, I think. He… he didn't say much. He just asked me what I liked about it."
Jaden leaned closer, hanging on the story.
Syrus's voice softened. "I told him it looked like a cool character I saw in a cartoon. They could take hits, go through any hardships.... And always keep going."
Julian saw the line running straight from that eight-year-old boy to the fifteen-year-old who had stood shaking at a fountain and still chosen not to betray his friends.
Syrus swallowed. "And then… Christmas came, and… it was there."
His voice wavered. "Our parents said it was a gift from both of them. But I know Zane pushed for it. I know he did. He didn't have to. He just… did."
Jasmine's expression warmed, a small softness around her eyes. "That's… sweet."
Alexis's gaze drifted, thoughtful, as if the story had tugged at her own memories of Atticus: of siblings, of things you didn't understand until they were gone.
Syrus's fingers traced the edge of the old box like he was grounding himself. "I've carried it with me ever since. Every duel. Every… bad day."
He gave a small, embarrassed laugh. "Even when it was stupid. Even when it didn't make sense."
Mindy's voice was unexpectedly gentle. "It wasn't stupid if it kept you standing."
Syrus's throat worked. "And now I have this." He lifted the new deck box slightly, then set it down again like it was heavy. "And it's… amazing. And I'm grateful. I am. But it feels like… if I start using it, it means the other one was… nothing."
Julian shook his head immediately. "No."
Syrus looked up, startled by the firmness.
Julian held his gaze. "Sy, your old deck isn't 'nothing' just because your new deck is better."
Syrus's lips parted, but no words came.
Julian leaned forward and tapped the cloth lightly. "Think about it like this. Your Vehicroids were you learning how to survive. ABC is you learning how to win. Those aren't opposites. That's… a progression."
Syrus's eyes shimmered with something he stubbornly refused to let fall.
Bastion cleared his throat, as if he didn't want to intrude on the emotion but couldn't help offering a framework. "A deck can be… a developmental stage. But it can also remain a reference point."
Jaden frowned at him. "Bastion, did you just call Syrus's childhood deck a developmental stage?"
Bastion flushed. "That's not… I meant it respectfully!"
Syrus let out a small sound that might have been a laugh.
Julian reached toward the old deck box. "Can I see it?"
Syrus hesitated, then nodded and pushed it toward him.
Julian opened it carefully, not because the cards were fragile, though some were worn, but because the gesture, the respect, they mattered. He thumbed through the deck with a duelist's efficiency and a friend's reverence.
Cards slid past in a familiar parade: Vehicroids, support spells, little defensive pieces Syrus had relied on when he didn't have raw power to threaten anyone.
One of the Reject Well kids leaned in, eyes wide, fascinated by the older, scuffed cardboard. Another made a face like the deck smelled old. Julian ignored them, focusing.
He found it quickly. Kiteroid. He pulled it out and held it between two fingers.
Syrus blinked. "That's…"
"A card you've used to save yourself more times than you can count," Julian said.
Jaden leaned in. "Kiteroid's the one that blocks direct attacks, right?"
Syrus nodded slowly. "Twice."
"Yep." Julian said. "One by discard, a second by banishment. It's not flashy. It's not a boss monster. It's just… a hand reaching out at the last second."
Syrus's throat tightened.
Julian held the card out to him. "Put this in your ABC deck."
Syrus stared at it like Julian had offered him something illegal. "What?"
Julian's expression stayed calm. "Put it in."
Syrus's voice cracked, just a little. "Julian, that's… that's not part of the strategy."
Mindy smirked. "That's the point."
Syrus's hands hovered, uncertain. "It'll make the deck worse."
Bastion hesitated, then conceded with a small nod. "Technically, it could reduce consistency. Slightly."
Alexis watched Julian, curiosity in her eyes. "Why that card?"
Julian didn't look away from Syrus. "Because you're acting like upgrading means abandoning. It doesn't."
Syrus's gaze dropped to Kiteroid. His fingers trembled as he reached for it.
Julian spoke before Syrus could retreat into guilt. "Do you think my deck is perfectly optimized?"
Syrus blinked, caught off guard. "I… I don't know."
Julian snorted quietly. "It's not. Not anymore. Not the way it used to be."
He leaned back slightly and let the admission sit there without shame. "The Levianeer you gave me? It doesn't fit as cleanly as it once did. I don't run the same ratios of LIGHT monsters anymore. If I wanted to be ruthless about efficiency, I'd cut it."
Syrus stared at him, stunned.
Julian's mouth softened. "But I don't cut it."
Jaden's eyes widened. "Wait, you'd cut Levianeer? But it's so cool…"
"Exactly." Julian said, glancing at him. "It's cool. And it matters. It was a friend's gift in an important moment. It marked something. It reminds me that I'm not doing this alone."
He looked back to Syrus. "A card doesn't have to be always the mathematically best option to deserve space in a deck. Sometimes a card earns its slot because of what it represents."
Syrus swallowed hard.
Julian's voice stayed steady. "Red-Eyes wasn't the best dragon in Yugi's deck. He still carried it. Not because it was optimal. Because it was part of his story."
Jasmine's expression softened fully now, her voice quiet. "And because it reminded him of someone."
Mindy tilted her head, eyes sharper. "And many times those wildcards we end up adding save up our asses. Its more frequent than you think."
Syrus stared at Kiteroid, and for a moment Julian could see the eight-year-old again, standing in front of a shop window, wanting something he didn't think he deserved.
Julian lowered his voice. "Sy. This deck will help you win duels. But you're not becoming someone else. You're becoming a stronger version of yourself."
Syrus's hands finally closed around the card. His fingers curled like he was afraid it would disappear.
"And if you ever want to duel with Vehicroids again?" Julian added. "Do it."
Syrus blinked rapidly.
Julian's gaze flicked toward the Reject Well kids, who were watching intently. "We've got six decks down there that you helped build. They're practically vibrating with impatience."
One of the kids puffed out his cheeks indignantly, as if to say we are not vibrating.
Another nodded eagerly, as if to say yes we are.
Julian's mouth twitched. "They've been waiting for their next little tournament. So don't talk to me about 'abandoning' old decks. We're literally collecting them like artifacts."
Jaden perked up. "Oh! The Well tournament! Are we doing that soon? Because I want to…"
Bastion lifted a finger automatically. "We should establish a bracket system and…"
Mindy groaned. "Please don't."
Syrus let out a shaky laugh that turned into something almost like a sob, except he swallowed it down at the last second. "Okay." he whispered.
Julian watched him carefully. "Okay what?"
Syrus took a breath, and when he looked up, there was still fear there—but less of it. "Okay… I'll put it in."
He opened the new deck box and slid Kiteroid in with a carefulness that felt ceremonial.
Alexis's gaze softened, and she looked away for a moment as if to give Syrus privacy without leaving him alone.
Jaden bumped Syrus's shoulder again, gentler this time. "That's awesome. Now your deck has a piece of you in it."
Syrus gave him a small, grateful smile. "Yeah."
Julian let the moment breathe. Then, quietly, he reached into the old Vehicroid deck again and pulled out Steam Gyroid. He held it up between two fingers.
Syrus's eyes widened.
Julian's voice was calm, but there was a warmth under it. "You said this was the first one you saw."
Syrus nodded, throat tight. "Yeah."
Julian offered it back. "Then we're using it today."
Syrus blinked, confused. "But… we're training ABC."
Julian nodded. "We are. But we're also training you. And you're allowed to be proud of where you came from."
Jaden grinned. "Yes! Steam Gyroid cameo!"
Mindy smirked. "He's going to make it poetic again."
Julian didn't deny it.
He handed Steam Gyroid to Syrus. "Remeber my match with Dorian? I don't use Vehicroids, and Steam Gyroid won me the match. It was a non-illusion monster, ready to open the field for the other threats in my deck. You're going to keep that card on you. Not because it's necessary. Because it's yours."
Syrus's hands shook as he took it. He stared at the card as if it had become heavier in the last minute.
"Thank you." Syrus whispered, voice small.
Julian's expression didn't soften into pity. It stayed firm, almost stubborn. "Stop thanking me for every little thing like you're borrowing oxygen. We're friends, for god's sake. That's why we're here fore. You did the same for me back then. Honestly, even more."
Syrus's lips parted, then closed. He nodded once, hard.
Bastion shifted slightly, and Julian caught the motion out of the corner of his eye: Bastion's gaze had drifted, just briefly, toward the distant silhouette of the Obelisk dorm, the blue roofline gleaming over the trees like a promise and a warning.
He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The thought was there, hanging behind his eyes like a question that hadn't found words yet.
Julian filed it away. Noted. Not now. Later.