The afternoon sun filtered through the high windows of the training grounds, casting long shadows across the perfectly manicured grass.
Will stood at the edge of the field, wiping sweat from his brow with the corner of his Simple Apron. His shift in the Grand Cafeteria had ended early, and he had been asked to deliver lunch boxes to the practical combat class — a task that apparently fell under "special auxiliary duties."
He carried a large basket filled with simple but carefully prepared meals. Most were standard academy fare, but a few bowls contained his own subtle additions — a touch of Focus Herb Salad mixed into the rice, a light Spicy Power Soup base for those who needed extra energy.
Einsfel was in the middle of the field, practicing basic spell control. Her silver-gray hair flowed behind her as she moved, blue magical circles spinning around her hands with graceful precision. Even among the other first-years, she stood out.
Will couldn't help but smile as he watched her.
Then a familiar, mocking voice cut through the air.
"Well, if it isn't the academy's new delivery boy."
Cyrus Vaughn walked over, his luxurious robe fluttering slightly in the breeze. Several senior students trailed behind him like loyal shadows. He stopped a few paces away from Will, looking him up and down with clear disdain.
"Special Auxiliary Chef," Cyrus read aloud from Will's badge, his tone dripping with mockery. "How charming. The academy really has lowered its standards. First they let commoners with no background in, and now they're hiring kitchen staff to fight magical beasts with soup."
A few students nearby chuckled.
Will kept his expression calm and continued arranging the lunch boxes on a nearby table.
"I'm just doing my job," he replied evenly.
Cyrus stepped closer, his voice lowering so only Will could hear.
"Your 'job' is to stay in your place, cook. This academy is built on magic — real power. Not whatever peasant tricks you used to scrape by in that backwater town. Do you really think you belong here? Next to people like Einsfel?"
At the mention of her name, Will's grip on the basket tightened slightly.
Cyrus noticed and smiled coldly.
"Oh, that's right. You two are childhood friends, aren't you? How touching. A genius mage and her little kitchen pet. Tell me, does she keep you around because you're useful… or because she feels sorry for you?"
Before Will could answer, a clear voice rang out from the training field.
"Enough."
Einsfel walked over, her expression calm but her blue eyes cold. The magical circles around her hands had not yet faded, glowing faintly with restrained power.
"Cyrus Vaughn," she said, stopping beside Will. "If you have time to mock others, perhaps you should spend it improving your own control. I saw your demonstration earlier. Your mana flow was… sloppy."
Cyrus's face stiffened.
The surrounding students went quiet. Insulting a first-year was one thing. Being called out by another first-year — especially one with Einsfel's reputation — was another.
Einsfel turned to Will, her voice softening noticeably.
"Did you bring lunch for the class?"
Will nodded and handed her one of the special portions he had prepared.
"Spicy Power Soup with a side of Focus Herb Salad," he said quietly. "It should help with your afternoon training."
Einsfel accepted the bowl with both hands, her fingers briefly brushing against his. The contact was small, but warm.
"Thank you, Will," she said, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "I always feel better after eating what you make."
She took a spoonful right there in front of everyone.
The moment the broth touched her tongue, a soft blue glow appeared around her body. Her previously restless magic visibly stabilized, the circles around her hands becoming smoother and more controlled.
A few students whispered in surprise.
Cyrus's expression darkened.
"You're wasting your talent associating with him," he said coldly. "One day you'll realize that magic is the only thing that matters in this world. Not soup. Not friendship. Power."
Einsfel met his gaze without flinching.
"Then I suppose we have different definitions of power," she replied calmly. "Because the person who helped me control my magic all these years never needed a single spell to do it."
She turned back to Will, her voice gentle once more.
"I'll see you later. Don't work too hard."
With that, she walked back toward the training field, carrying the bowl carefully.
Cyrus stared after her for a moment, then shot Will one last venomous look.
"This isn't over, cook," he muttered before turning and leaving with his group.
Will let out a slow breath and went back to distributing the remaining lunches.
His hands were steady, but inside, a quiet resolve was hardening.
He wasn't here to compete with Cyrus in magic.
He was here to protect the things that mattered to him — using the only power he had.
As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Will finished his duties and headed back toward the kitchen area.
Tonight, he had a promise to keep.
A celebration meal.
Just for Einsfel.
And maybe — just maybe — he would make something extra special.
Something that would remind her why he had followed her all the way here.