On the other side of the arena, Art and Zyon were hunched over like two half-dead hobos.
Art grumbled, face practically kissing the dirt. "Damn that instructor’s a demon. You think so too, right?"
He threw the question toward Zyon, hoping for some shared misery. But Zyon just gave a lazy shrug. "Wasn’t that bad."
Art looked like he’d been slapped. "Not that bad? Brother, I was used as a broom. I’ve seen my life flash twice today. Brother you are strong but for normal people like me today was HELL."
Zyon side-eyed him, unimpressed. "You being a ’normal guy’ is an insult to actual normal people. Not just because you’re stronger than you pretend to be—but because of how annoying you are."
Art blinked. "Wait. Was that a compliment or an insult?"
Zyon didn’t even flinch. "Up to you."
"I’ll take it as an insult then." Art scoffed, brushing dust off his sleeves like he hadn’t just been wrecked ten minutes ago.
Zyon clearly had enough of his nonsense. But before the banter could continue, something blasted across their vision like a cannonball.
A person—no, a goddamn missile shaped like a person—slammed into the far side of the arena wall. The entire barrier cracked like a spiderweb.
A guy, roughly their age, pinned against the wall. Amethyst lightning still flickering around his body like it refused to leave. Foam at the mouth. Body twitching.
Art let out a low whistle. "Oof. That’s... That’s going to need more than a potion."
Zyon’s eyes narrowed. "Amethyst lightning affinity. There’s only one person that fits."
Art nodded. "Cassius."
Zyon clicked his tongue. "He changed. I get it. But this? He’s like a walking calamity now."
Art shrugged, grinning. "Can’t blame the guy. His parents are nuts. It’s a miracle he turned out even partially sane. Honestly, seeing him fry someone isn’t surprising—it’s nostalgic."
Zyon gave a dry chuckle. "Still... he should share his burdens and memories. But truthfully I don’t want him to remember what kind hell his parents made him go through."
Art nodded sagely. "Yeah. Best not to ask. Our heads might explode from the trauma."
They both looked toward the arena wall again, watching the sparks finally begin to die down.
"We should greet him," Zyon muttered. "He’s back now, out of the ward. And I feel kind of bad I didn’t check in earlier."
Art folded his arms. "You’re not the only one. But to be fair, when he came out of that zone, he looked like someone who didn’t want a soul near him."
Zyon nodded. "Yeah. That pressure around him was... off."
Then Zyon paused, remembering something. "Hey, did you know that girl—Mia—is apparently his adopted sister?"
Art blinked. "Wait, what? Where’d she come from?"
"Celeste told me," Zyon said. "Apparently, they’re close. She was the first one to talk to him. You know the girl who hugged him the moment he came out of the portal. Apparently, they even went to the infirmary together."
"Huh, that girl." Art scratched his head. "They’re tight, huh? Makes sense, at first I thought she was his girl or something. He doesn’t let just anyone near him. Must be something deep between them."
Zyon hummed in agreement. "Yeah. I wonder what the story is. And I believe he won’t cheat on Amelia, your brain is rotten for thinking that way."
Art cracked his knuckles. "Let’s not wonder too hard. And how is that my fault exactly? Just look at them, they don’t share a single trait."
Zyon smirked. "Fair."
"Come on," Art said, brushing off his pants. "Let’s go say hi. And maybe make sure he doesn’t vaporize the next guy who breathes wrong."
"Good call," Zyon muttered as they headed toward the wreckage Cassius had just left behind.
But just as Art and Zyon neared the guy embedded in the wall like a damn fossil, a voice rang out from behind them.
Cold. Controlled. But laced with fury.
"What are you doing with that guy?"
They turned—slowly, carefully.
Fists clenched, expression absolutely thunderous. His eyes burned with something worse than rage—intent. Murderous, cold intent.
Art whispered, just low enough for Zyon to catch. "He’s starting to take after his dad."
Zyon shot him a sideways glare that screamed, ’Seriously, right now?’
Art just shrugged, like it wasn’t his fault the vibe was matching one of a known war criminal.
"I asked you something," Cassius said again, tone dipped in venom this time.
Art coughed, straightened up wasn’t life-threatening, and sauntered over like the clown he was. "Yo, chill out, my guy. You just came out of the medical ward and now you’re cracking people into walls?"
Zyon stepped in beside him, trying to play mediator. "Yeah, man. You need rest. You’re still recovering."
Cassius ran a hand down his face, exhaling through clenched teeth. "I know. I know. Just... let me kill this bastard first."
Art’s expression snapped to full alert. "Yooo. Hold up. What the hell did he do?"
Zyon stepped forward, physically blocking Cassius’s line of sight to the unconscious guy. "You’re gonna get expelled if you act on impulse. This isn’t our estate Cassius. We’re at the Academy now."
Cassius let out a frustrated growl. "Yeah... yeah. That’s a problem too."
Art threw his hands up. "Then it’s good you’re acknowledging it. Growth, my dude. Let’s not murder anyone today."
Cassius cracked his knuckles like he didn’t hear a single word of that. "Just let me beat him to near death. I’ll stop before the skull caves in."
Zyon didn’t hesitate—stepped up, gripped his arm tight. "Cassius. Calm down. Tell us what he did."
Art nodded, unusually serious now. "Yeah. We’ll hear you out. Just talk first."
Cassius closed his eyes, as if saying it would make it more real. "I saw him in a... seriously inappropriate position over my sister."
His fists tightened again, fingernails digging into his palms until a drop of blood appeared. His voice was trembling, not with fear, but barely contained fury.
If Zyon and Art weren’t here the guy cracked on the wall would have been dead. That was a fact both of them understood.
Art’s goofy expression disappeared. His eyes sharpened, and his voice turned calm—but cold. "Oh. Is that so..."
Zyon’s sigh was heavier this time. "That’s serious. But let the authorities handle it. You killing him won’t help her."
Art nodded. "Yeah. You said she’s your sister, right? Take her to the ward. She needs you right now, not your fists."
Cassius nodded once. "I already did. That’s why it took me so long to come here."
Zyon’s shoulders relaxed just a little. "Then go be with her. We’ll deal with this trash."
Art gave a thumbs-up. "Leave it to us. We’ll make sure he’s not going anywhere."
Cassius stood there for another heartbeat, torn between walking away and shattering skulls. But eventually, his breathing evened out. The sane part of him resurfaced, just enough to pull him back.
Without another word, he turned and walked away, tension still crackling off him like static.
Once he disappeared down the corridor, Art let out a long, exaggerated exhale and dropped down onto the arena floor. "Damn. That was intense. He really cares about her, huh?"
Zyon nodded, watching the exit. "He’s not like his parents. He’s not a psychopath... but he is impulsive. Pure rage bottled up under control."
Art sighed, finally looking back at the poor bastard still unconscious. "Man, he’s lucky. If Cassius had been just five minutes faster... this whole arena would’ve been painted red."
Zyon agreed silently. Both of them knew it.
They might’ve just saved a life today.
Whether or not that guy deserved it... that was still up for debate.