Chapter 145: I Might Duel on Founders Day?
{Elira}
~**^**~
Rennon was the one who reminded me about training today, so I only expected him to be waiting. He hadn’t mentioned Zenon or Lennon being here.
My stomach fluttered with unease. ’Did he forget to mention it? Or was this deliberate?’
"Don’t look so startled," Lennon said with a lazy grin, pushing off the wall and strolling closer. "What, you thought you had Rennon all to yourself?"
Heat crept up my neck, and I shook my head quickly. "I just... wasn’t expecting all of you."
"Neither were we," Zenon said, voice clipped as ever. His eyes swept over me, sharp but not unkind. "But schedules are shifting with Founders’ Day preparations. It makes sense to use the time wisely. And, we have to prepare you in case you get into a duel with another student on that day."
"What?" My nostrils flared as my gaze widened. "Duel another student? How? I—I don’t understand."
Lennon quickly came to my rescue. "Students are randomly selected to duel during the Founder’s Day celebrations. We don’t want to leave the small chances of you getting picked to fate. So, we are training you early on."
For a good five seconds, I forgot how to breathe because, honestly, I didn’t know what to do with that information.
How come I didn’t know about this possibility, or is it chance?
I already felt like I was dead meat. And the worst part? I didn’t even have the chance to properly digest this bad news, all thanks to Zenon’s intense gaze.
Left without a choice, I nodded, though my chest tightened. I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved or cornered with this whole training.
"Don’t let them scare you," Rennon added gently, adjusting his glasses. "We thought it would be better if you had the chance to learn from each of us, not just one. That way, you will see different perspectives and approaches."
Lennon smirked and clapped a hand dramatically to his chest. "Translation: you get triple the attention, Elira. Aren’t you lucky?"
’So, that’s how it is.’ I groaned softly under my breath, though relief was far from me.
Still, part of me couldn’t help but wonder if Rennon had chosen not to warn me for this exact reason—that if he had, I might have backed out.
"Relax," Rennon said again, his calm tone steadying the air. "We will take it slow."
"Speak for yourself," Lennon muttered with a grin, rolling his shoulders.
Zenon cut in sharply. "She isn’t here for your games. Focus."
Their back-and-forth left me standing in the middle, torn between nerves and a slight flicker of excitement. ’All three of them... teaching me?’
I set my backpack down carefully against the wall, my pulse thudding in my ears.
This was going to be very different from what I had imagined.
Zenon’s gaze lingered on me a moment longer before he spoke. "Start with Rennon. Show me what you have learned so far. That will tell me how best to structure your training from now on."
I swallowed and nodded, stepping toward Rennon. He gave me an encouraging smile as he adjusted his stance. "Ready?"
"I think I am," I murmured, trying to ignore how the weight of Zenon’s eyes pressed harder than the room itself.
Rennon raised his hand. "Let’s begin with what we practiced last week. Defense into counter-strike."
The moment I moved, muscle memory kicked in—step back, shift weight, raise guard. Rennon’s strike came swiftly, a blur at my shoulder, but my arm met it with a solid block. I pivoted, swinging my other hand towards his torso.
"Better," Rennon said smoothly, stepping aside. "Again."
We repeated the drill. My breath grew faster, my heartbeat louder. This time, I nearly caught him, my knuckles grazing his shirt before he twisted away.
"Keep your feet grounded," he reminded gently. "Don’t let momentum drag you too far forward."
"Right," I panted, resetting.
Behind us, Lennon whistled low. "Look at her go. Our mate has got claws."
Heat rushed to my cheeks, but I forced myself not to react and instead, focus.
Zenon’s voice cut through, sharp and precise. "She drops her shoulder before striking. Any decent opponent will see it coming."
I froze mid-motion, then straightened quickly, completely flustered.
Rennon gave a small, reassuring nod. "He’s right. You are telegraphing. Keep it tighter."
I set my jaw and tried again—block, pivot, and strike. This time, I kept my shoulder level, focusing on the flow rather than the finish.
Rennon caught my wrist, but his expression softened. "That’s much better."
Zenon’s eyes narrowed in assessment. "Acceptable. But your reaction speed is still lacking."
A ripple of irritation flared, but I pressed it down. ’Acceptable was still better than weak.’
"Good thing we have got time to fix that," Lennon said, flashing me a grin. "Don’t worry, Elira. By Founders’ Day, no one will dare underestimate you."
My chest tightened at his words. Founders’ Day. Just hearing it reminded me of Regina’s smug face in the auditorium.
I clenched my fists and nodded. "Then, I will just keep going."
---
When Rennon finally lowered his hand and stepped back, I was flushed and breathless, but the fire still burned in my limbs.
I glanced at Zenon, hoping for something like approval.
He studied me in silence for a long moment before speaking. "You’ve improved, but there’s no room for complacency. From now on, training will be set at specific intervals during the week. Each of us will take a turn working with you."
My heart skipped at the thought of the constant training every week.
Zenon continued, his voice firm, uncompromising. "Mondays will be with Rennon, Wednesdays with Lennon, and Fridays with me. And Sundays..."
His eyes fixed on mine, sharp as steel. "Sundays will no longer be yours. They will be added to your training schedule."
I blinked, stunned. "S-Sundays?" My voice came out smaller than I intended. "But... that’s the only day students can leave campus."
Zenon didn’t flinch. "You will sacrifice it. Time is too short, and Founders’ Day is too close."
The weight of it hit me like a stone in my chest. No Sundays meant no outings with my friends, no little escapes to breathe outside ESA’s walls.
My lips pulled into a pout before I could stop myself.
Then, I let my eyes dart towards Rennon—my last hope. He only met my gaze with that soft, patient warmth of his, as though saying, ’I know it’s hard, but endure it.’
I turned quickly to Lennon. Surely, he would fight for me. But he only shrugged, smiling faintly. "We don’t have a choice, Elira. Better now than regretting later."
My shoulders sagged. My last resort was Zenon himself. I looked back at him, silently pleading.
His eyes narrowed, catching my hesitation, and for a fleeting second, I thought I saw the corner of his jaw tighten. The intensity in his stare made heat crawl up my neck.
I dropped my gaze immediately, my pout shrinking into silence as I swallowed hard.
The silence stretched for too long. The three of them waited, their eyes on me—steady, and unyielding.
Finally, I forced myself to nod. "Alright," I said softly, though the word scraped against my throat. "I will follow the schedule."
It wasn’t like I had a choice, given that Zenon seemed to be watching me closely, as if he wouldn’t let me take a step out of the hall unless I agreed.
Rennon’s expression softened further, approval laced with encouragement. Lennon leaned back, grinning faintly like he already knew I’d give in.
And Zenon... his gaze didn’t waver, but the smallest incline of his head told me he accepted my answer.
Still, my chest felt heavy. ’No Sundays. No breathing space. No chance to slip away with my friends.’
As I reached for my water bottle and tried to calm my racing thoughts, a new fear crept in, unbidden.
’What if I get selected for a duel on Founder’s Day?’
The image of standing before the entire academy—and worse, before the King—made my stomach twist.
I closed my eyes for a moment, clutching my hands together on my lap as if the gesture alone could shield me.
Silently, I prayed in my heart, ’Please, moon goddess, don’t let them pick me, not on that day.’
Suddenly, a sharp ring broke the air. Then, Zenon slipped a hand into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and studied the screen with a focus that made his already unreadable face tighten just slightly.
Without a word to me, he said, "Excuse me," and turned on his heel, leaving the training hall with long, purposeful strides.
The silence he left behind felt heavier than the training itself.
Lennon stretched with a lazy grin, as if to cut through it. "Well, that’s that. Don’t pout too much, Elira. You will live."
I rolled my eyes but didn’t answer. Rennon only gave me a small, knowing smile, like he could already read the storm in my head.
I packed my things quietly, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and left them behind.