In one of the old room, a hideout spot for Garrick.
In the center of the room, Mori knelt, trembling so violently his knees scraped against the rough stone.
His neck was a mess of red and purple bruises, the marks of Reo's grip still fresh. His head hung low, sweat and tears dripping onto the floor.
At the far end of the room sat Garrick, the undisputed king of the Bronze section of this academy. His massive frame filled the couch.
Two girls clung to his arms, their beauty starkly contrasted by the fear in their eyes. Around the room, a half-dozen lackeys stood stiffly, their faces pale as they tried to blend into the shadows.
Garrick's voice cut through the silence, low and guttural, each word dripping with rage. "So, you're telling me," he growled, leaning forward, "that you got your ass handed to you by Leonhardt?"
Mori flinched. "Y-yes," he whispered. His hands clawed at the floor as if trying to dig himself a hole to escape Garrick's wrath.
Garrick rose slowly.
"Why?" Garrick roared, his voice shaking the chandelier above. "How does a worthless piece of shit like you lose to Leonhardt?"
Mori's head snapped up, his tear-streaked face pale. "H-he's changed!" he stammered, his voice cracking.
"Leonhardt… he's stronger now! He doesn't fear anyone—not me, not anyone! He… he nearly snapped my neck!"
The room fell silent. The lackeys exchanged horrified glances, while the girls froze, their whispers dying in their throats. Garrick's expression twisted into a snarl as he processed Mori's words.
In a flash, Garrick's massive hand shot out, seizing Mori by the throat. He lifted him off the ground effortlessly.
Mori choked, his legs kicking weakly in the air. Garrick's dark eyes bore into him, his voice a low growl.
"When they don't fear you," he hissed, "you carve that fear into their souls."
With a roar, Garrick slammed his fist into Mori's face. The crack of bone echoed through the room as blood sprayed from Mori's nose.
Garrick didn't stop. Another punch to the jaw, a sickening snap.
A blow to the ribs, the sound of breaking bones mingling with Mori's choked sobs. A final strike to the stomach sent Mori crumpling to the floor, his body convulsing in agony.
Garrick turned his blazing gaze to the two lackeys who had been with Mori in the hallway.
They were already on their knees, trembling violently. One had pissed himself, his hands clasped in a desperate plea for mercy.
"Prince Cassian gave me one order," Garrick bellowed, his voice a thunderclap. "Crush Leonhardt. Put him back in the dirt where he belongs. And you're telling me you got fucked over by him? You pathetic worms!"
The lackeys threw themselves to the ground, their foreheads pressed against the stone. "P-please, Garrick! We're sorry! H-he was too strong!" one wailed, his voice breaking.
Garrick leaned down, his face inches from theirs. "I'll show you what real fear looks like," he said. "I'll break Leonhardt piece by piece. And if you fail me again, I'll make what I did to Mori look like mercy."
The lackeys whimpered, collapsing fully to the floor.
The other lackeys stood frozen, their faces drained of color.
"Get this trash out of my sight," he growled, gesturing to Mori's broken form. Two lackeys scrambled to obey, dragging Mori out of the room, his blood leaving a smeared trail on the stone floor.
Garrick sat back down. He rested his hands on both girls' shoulders. His dark eyes glinted with cruel hunger, a twisted smile curling his lips. Leonhardt, he thought, gripping the sword's hilt tightly.
You've just made the biggest mistake of your life. I'll crush you until there's nothing left.
**************************
"Is that all that's left?" Reo muttered.
He stood in the weapons section of the library, a stack of books tucked under his arm. His crimson eyes scanned the rows of spines before him.
Nearby students stole glances at him.
Reo ignored them, his focus fixed on the books. Whether he liked it or not, he was the academy's newest enigma, a spectacle of whispered legends.
The attention was constant and unwelcome, but Reo had no time to waste on gawkers.
He pulled a few books from the shelf—Forging the Blade: A History of Weaponcraft, Metallurgy in Combat, and other texts he hoped contained what he needed—and walked to a secluded table nestled in the library's quieter corner. The table was behind tall shelves.
But even here, he could feel their eyes lingering, drawn by the pull of his notoriety.
Reo spread the books out on the table, flipping through their pages with practiced speed. His fingers moved deftly, scanning paragraphs for anything useful. I need specifics, he thought.
"Elynn," he said silently, his voice carrying a calm authority.
[Yes, Reo?]
"Scan these," he instructed, "materials, forging techniques, dense metals—anything related to weapons."
[Understood.]
A faint blue glow expanded in Reo's vision as Elynn began combing through the pages he flipped. Diagrams, formulas, and notes were filtered and highlighted, streaming into his mind.
The speed of Elynn's processing was unnervingly efficient, piecing together fragments of scattered knowledge into a coherent whole.
Reo pulled out paper and pencil, his hands steady as he began sketching. Elynn projected blueprints into his vision, overlaying the paper with precision models.
His pencil moved in calculated strokes, drawing out a pair of knuckle gloves. The design was brutal yet elegant—compact for speed, reinforced for impact. He flipped notes along the edges.
Satisfied, he set the sketch aside and started on another: sleek wristbands, adaptable in design but functional for his needs.
Elynn's projections guided his movements, the blueprints in his mind syncing with the reality he was crafting on paper.
But it wasn't enough. There were gaps in his understanding, missing links that his designs couldn't bridge. "Not complete," Reo muttered.
He stood, leaving his sketches and books on the table, and moved back to the shelves.
Dense metals. That's what he needed. Something durable, something unyielding. His eyes scanned the spines again, his thoughts racing ahead, already assembling possibilities.
He didn't notice the silent figure approaching his table. Someone stopped in front of his scattered notes.
They picked up the sketch of the knuckle gloves, and studied the intricate design.
Meanwhile, Reo reached for a book in the metallurgy section. His fingers brushed the spine when a soft voice broke the silence.
"Do you need help, mister?"
Reo froze, turning to see a girl standing beside him. Her short blonde hair caught the faint light, and her bright, icy blue eyes carried an unfamiliar warmth.
She wore a silver brooch pinned to her uniform, marking her rank, but her demeanor was disarmingly polite.
There was no fear or disdain in her gaze—just an easy smile.
"Help?" He echoed, surprised. For a moment, he simply stared. Everyone else he encountered either avoided him, treated him like a threat, or whispered behind his back.
This—whatever this was—felt… different.
"Yes," the girl said, tilting her head slightly, her smile unwavering. "It looks like you're searching for something. Can I help?"
He composed himself quickly, his voice calm but cautious. "Dense and heavy metals," he said. "Anything worth noting?"
Her smile widened, and she stepped closer, her fingers trailing across the spines with practiced ease. "Let's see… Oh, how about Gravion metal?" She pulled out a thick book, the title Gravion: The Unstable Titan embossed in sharp lettering.
"It's one of the densest and heaviest metals known. It's unstable, yes—but if stabilized, it's incredibly durable."
Reo studied her for a moment, then took the book from her hands. His crimson eyes flicked over the cover, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "Gravion, huh? Sounds interesting."
"It is," the girl said, her tone bright. "If you need more suggestions, just let me know."
He hesitated, then spoke, his voice quieter. "Why help me? Most people don't even look me in the eye."
The girl blinked, then laughed softly, the sound light and genuine. "It's my job to help people here," she said simply. "And you don't seem as scary as they say."
For the first time, He found himself smiling—a small, fleeting thing. "Thanks," he said, tucking the book under his arm.
She nodded and returned to her duties, leaving him to his thoughts. But as Reo approached his table again, something felt… off.
His sketches had been altered.
The designs were still recognizable, but they were refined, elevated. Precise measurements and notes on stabilizing Gravion metal had been added in the margins. Techniques he hadn't considered—notes that weren't his—were now part of the blueprints.
"Elynn," Reo said sharply, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the table. "Scan the library. Now."
[On it.]
A luminous blue projection swept outward, scanning every inch of the library. Rows of shelves, students hunched over books, librarians shelving tomes—everything came into focus.
But nothing stood out. No one acted suspiciously. Whoever had tampered with his work had left no trace.
"They're good," Reo muttered, his grip tightening on the papers. "Too good to be caught by this scan."
Reo's jaw tightened. His crimson eyes darted around the library, noting every face, every movement.
Whoever you are, you've just earned my attention.
Carefully folding the altered blueprints, Reo slipped them into his notebook.