Chapter 168: The Contests Begin This Evening
{Elira}
~**^**~
The cool dawn air brushed against my cheeks as I stepped out.
Zenon was already behind the wheel, engine low and steady, his gaze flicking briefly to me before shifting back to the road.
"Front," he said simply, just like yesterday.
I nodded, slipping into the passenger seat. Rennon and Lennon took the back, and in no time the jeep rolled out of the quiet street, the tyres humming against the asphalt.
The silence wasn’t heavy; it was early, the kind of quiet that belonged to dawn. I rested my hands on my bag, watching the blur of trees and rooftops give way to the town.
When we pulled up at the café, Zenon parked without a word, and we all stepped out of the jeep and headed inside.
The warm smell of roasted coffee and fresh bread wrapped around me instantly. But my stomach tightened from nerves.
Still, when Rennon placed a tray in front of me minutes later, the sight of warm pastries and tea made me realize that feeding my stomach was very important.
Immediately, I picked up my fork. The first bite hit my stomach like fire meeting cool water, and I hadn’t realized how hollow I felt until then.
The moment stretched quietly, strangely intimate. Just the four of us, tucked away in a sleepy corner of town, the world outside barely awake.
Lennon leaned his elbow on the table, chin resting in his palm as he watched me with an insufferable grin.
"I thought you would refuse the food. I didn’t know you would immediately start eating without a protest."
I narrowed my eyes at him, but the corner of my lips betrayed me, twitching. "Don’t get used to it."
"Too late," he said, winking.
Rennon’s quiet chuckle broke the tension. Zenon didn’t laugh, didn’t smile, but his gaze lingered a second longer before dropping back to his coffee.
The rest of the meal passed in relative quiet, broken only by Lennon’s occasional remark and Rennon nudging another bite my way when I slowed.
By the time we stepped back outside, dawn had fully stretched across the sky, painting the streets in pale gold.
The air was crisp, clean, and buzzing faintly with the nervous energy building in my chest.
Zenon slid behind the wheel again. "Let’s go."
I climbed into the front seat, settling my bag on my lap and Rennon and Lennon took the back.
The drive to ESA was short, the sight of the academy gates looming faster than I expected.
The sight of the familiar stone buildings brought back the rhythm of ordinary life, even if nothing about me felt ordinary anymore.
As the jeep slowed to a stop, my pulse quickened. Back to reality. Back to questions I couldn’t yet answer.
"Go," Zenon said simply, his gaze fixed ahead.
I reached for the handle, about to step out, when Lennon leaned forward from the back seat. His grin was easy, but his eyes flickered with something steadier.
"Don’t forget—you’ve got training after school with us today."
"I won’t," I said softly, hugging my bag closer.
Rennon gave me a small nod. Zenon didn’t say anything, but his gaze brushed over me once, firm and unreadable, before shifting back to the path ahead.
I slipped out of the jeep, the morning air cool on my face. Behind me, Zenon drove off while I crossed the courtyard as just another student with fire burning under her skin.
Heading toward the academy building, my steps felt lighter than they should have, considering the weight of everything waiting inside me.
Then I remembered my friends and pulled out my phone as I walked. Straightaway, I opened our group chat.
Elira: [Good morning~ I’m back on school grounds.]
The replies came almost instantly.
Cambria: [Finally! The dorm felt weird without you.]
Nari: [ESA was boring. Like, painfully boring. Welcome back, roomie!]
Tamryn: [Where are you? We should meet up.]
Juniper:
[Eliraaa!!]I bit back a laugh, smiling down at the screen as my thumbs moved.
Elira: [I was gone for just a day. How could you possibly miss me this much?]
There was a pause, then Nari’s message popped up.
Nari: [That’s not how missing works. Time doesn’t measure it. People do.]
I slowed a step, the words sinking deeper than I expected. My chest warmed.
Elira:[Fine. I will see you all at lunch.]
A chorus of ’yes!’s and a line of emojis filled the chat. I slipped my phone into my pocket, still smiling as I pushed open the academy doors.
The halls hummed with the sound of students filtering toward classes. I made my way to the locker room, weaving past familiar faces.
At my locker, I slid my heavy backpack inside with relief, the weight lifting off my shoulders.
From inside, I pulled out the neat stack of what I needed for first period: my notebook, a pen, and the thick text for Combat Tactics and Pack Defense.
I shut the locker door with a soft clang, then tapped my phone screen to silence before tucking it deep into my pocket.
A deep breath steadied me, and then I headed down the corridor, my footsteps leading me toward the classroom where the day would begin.
---
The moment I stepped into the classroom, the noise cut off like someone had pulled a plug. Laughter, chatter, even the scrape of chairs all fell into silence.
Dozens of eyes turned on me.
Not sharp with mockery like before or dripping with disdain. Instead, it was just curious. Watching and measuring.
My skin prickled under their gazes, and I knew why. Today, I seemed different from the "Omega" they have always known me as.
Something had shifted, though none of them knew the truth behind it.
I tightened my grip on my notebook, lifted my chin, and walked straight past them all, and slid into my desk, keeping my eyes fixed on the wood grain.
The air thickened with anticipation until the door swung open and the Professor strode in, his presence cutting through the tension like a blade.
He didn’t waste time. His gaze swept across the room, sharp as a wolf’s snarl.
"Today’s lecture will focus on adaptive combat," he began, his voice carrying with the weight of command. "Speed, precision, unpredictability. These are the traits that separate survivors from corpses on the battlefield."
Pens scratched faintly against paper as he moved to the board, drawing quick diagrams of positioning and flanking. His words cracked through the silence like whips.
Then his gaze flicked up, colder and more deliberate. "Those of you who drew the red cards—"
My heart lurched.
"—You should pay particular attention today. The combat contests to determine the top ten will begin this evening."
Almost immediately, a ripple of gasps, murmurs and nervous laughter went through the room.
The professor didn’t so much as blink. Instead, he continued. "Names will be called at random. You may find yourself fighting before the sun sets. So, be prepared, or be humiliated. The choice is yours."
My chest tightened, the words slamming into me harder than I wanted to admit. This evening? Already?
Once again, the brothers didn’t notify me about this.
I gripped my pen so tightly it pressed into my fingers, and my notes were little more than hurried scratches across the page.
Adaptive combat. Speed, precision, unpredictability.
I knew the words, heard them clearly enough, but they kept slipping through me like water through a sieve.
My mind was already two steps ahead, imagining tonight—the glare of lights, the echo of a name called, my body standing where I didn’t belong.
"Red cards mean no excuses," The professor barked, pacing along the front row. "You will fight until the last bell of Founders’ Day. Only ten of you will stand at the end. Ten. That means the rest of you will be weeded out—exposed in front of the entire Academy."
His gaze swept the room like a spotlight, pausing just long enough on the back rows that my heart lodged itself in my throat.
I forced myself to scribble down his diagrams on flanking manoeuvres, but the lines bent and crossed awkwardly.
All I could picture was myself against someone faster, sharper, with powers I couldn’t even touch yet, without fear of burning alive.
And at this perfect moment, Selene stirred faintly at the back of my mind with her steady presence.
"Breathe, Elira. You will not break on this stage."
It was easy for her to say this. My pulse thundered so loudly I was sure the people in the next row could hear it.
I glanced sideways and saw that a student who had drawn red was stiff with tension, while the other one wore a cocky smirk, already imagining his victory. I envied his confidence, even as my stomach turned.
By tonight, I could already be thrown into a fight.
And if I lost—if I failed, it wouldn’t just be me on display. It would be the "Omega" girl who couldn’t live up to anything.
I dug my nails into my palm beneath the desk and made myself keep writing, even if none of it stayed in my head.