CHAPTER 75: SECOND YEAR BATTLE CLASS

Logan left the cartography alcove, the last faint glimmer of the enchanted map fading behind him as the crystal covering dimmed to transparency.

The shift back to the normal muted tones of the library was almost jarring. Rows of shelves stretched outward in precise lines, their wooden edges smooth from years of use.

His footsteps echoed against the polished stone floor as he returned to the central reading area.

The librarian passed him going the other way, arms stacked high with returned books, giving him a polite nod without slowing.

Logan lightly smiled at her.

The table he had claimed earlier still held his stack of discarded volumes.

Everything from political essays to symbolic lexicons. None of them had given him exactly what he wanted, but they had given him a path to follow.

He gathered the books into a neat pile and carried them to the return desk. The clerk, a young woman with round glasses, barely looked up from her ledger as she muttered a quiet thanks and began marking them back into the system.

Logan didn’t linger. His mind was already running through the steps ahead.

The corridor outside the library was cooler, lined with tall windows that framed the deep blue of the evening sky.

Spheres of light shone steadily in evenly spaced sconces, reflecting faintly on the polished marble tiles. Students passed in small groups, some carrying books, others deep in conversation, their words were of no business to Logan.

He kept his pace steady. The academy’s dormitories weren’t far, but the walk gave him time to sort his thoughts.

The serpent. The sphere. The uninhabited continent. None of it fit neatly into any historical record he’d seen. Either he was looking in the wrong places, or someone had gone to great lengths to keep those connections buried.

And then there was the crystal.

His mind hadn’t touched it since the day he had tried and failed to look into the matter.

Even thinking about it brought a dull tightness to his chest. Power had to come with a price, though he still wasn’t sure if he’d paid it in full or if the debt was ongoing.

He reached his room and pushed the door open.

It was just like the one in his first year and still, he hadn’t seen his roommate yet.

Perhaps after he got rid of Blondie, there was an extra space and he got it.

Pulling a piece of parchment from the drawer, he dipped a quill in ink and began to write, the words crisp and to the point:

1. Search deeper archives for the symbol’s origin.

2. Find any mention of the uninhabited continent.

3. Find out about the crystal.

He stared at the third line longer than the others. It wasn’t hesitation exactly, more the awareness that it wouldn’t be as simple as just "finding out about it".

The crystal had reacted to him once and vanished.

He didn’t know where he might find another one. Heck, he didn’t even know where the first one came from.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Logan calmed himself.

Folding the parchment neatly, he slipped it into the inner pocket of his jacket.

The day’s research had left him mentally tired, but it wasn’t an unpleasant exhaustion.

Pieces had been moved into place, and even if the picture wasn’t clear yet, he knew he was closer than before.

He loosened his footwear, set them by the wall, and lay back on the bed.

The room was quiet except for the faint rustle of the wind against the window. His mind traced the edges of the serpent’s coiled body, the three unblinking eyes, and the sphere they guarded. The image hovered in his thoughts as sleep took him.

__________

The first sound he heard in the morning was the academy’s siren - a clear, ringing note that hung in the air for several seconds before fading. It repeated twice more, marking the official start of the day.

Logan opened his eyes to the pale light filtering through the window. The sky outside was streaked with thin clouds, the sun still low on the horizon.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretching the stiffness from his shoulders before standing.

A pair of clothes was waiting for him. A green tunic with soft embedded armor.

The fabric was flexible, built for movement, but tough enough to handle the occasional stray spell impact.

’How did this-?’ He pondered but remembered that with magic, nothing was next to impossible.

He dressed quickly, fastening the bracers and checking the fit of his boots. His tachi was in his Dark Space after Orion had returned it.

The training grounds were already filling when he arrived.

The space was enormous. It was an open circle of compacted sand bordered by shimmering mana wards that arched upward into a dome.

The wards kept spells contained and absorbed any impact strong enough to be dangerous. Outside the barrier, rows of tiered seating allowed spectators and instructors to observe without risk.

Clusters of students warmed up inside the dome. Some practiced footwork drills, stepping lightly across the sand with measured precision. Others paired off, exchanging quick bursts of magic that fizzled harmlessly against raised defenses.

The air carried the faint tang of expended mana - a scent like heated stone mixed with ozone.

But all students had one thing in common, they were all wearing the same tunic as Logan.

Logan stepped through the ward’s entrance, the faint tingle of its magic brushing across his skin before fading.

He scanned the crowd automatically. There were familiar faces from previous classes with some being neutral, others measuring.

Battle Class had a way of drawing out rivalries even when they didn’t exist elsewhere. It wasn’t just about learning techniques. It was about proving you could use them better than anyone else.

The instructor’s voice cut across the chatter, firm and commanding. It wasn’t Aaron.

"Form up!"

Conversations broke off as the students moved to assemble in a wide semicircle facing the center of the arena.

’Where is he?’ Logan pondered.

Instructor Thane stood waiting. He was a tall man with sharp features and a build that made it clear he could still hold his own in a fight.

His training coat was sleeveless, the fabric reinforced at the shoulders and chest, and his arms bore the faint tracery of old battle scars.

"Today," Thane began, his gaze sweeping over the group, "we focus on live engagement. That means unpredictability. You’ve learned forms. You’ve drilled the technique. Now you learn what happens when your opponent doesn’t follow the pattern you expect."

Thane gestured toward a rack at the edge of the field. "Select your practice weapons if you need them. Spells will be allowed within the standard containment rules. You will rotate opponents until I say otherwise."

Students broke away in pairs and small groups, some heading for the rack, others staying put with bare hands or focusing on spellcraft alone.

Logan stayed where he was for a moment, watching.

There was a rhythm to the way students paired off. Friends choosing each other, rivals seeking to settle old scores, the cautious ones hanging back to avoid the first round entirely.

He rolled his shoulders and stepped forward into the open space, not waiting to be approached.

Thane’s voice carried again. "First match: Logan vs. Cailen."

A murmur went through the crowd. Cailen was someone known for his precision with wind magic. He was fast, agile, and sharp in both movement and attitude.

Logan met his gaze across the sand. Cailen’s mouth curled into the faintest of smirks.

They moved to opposite sides of the marked dueling circle. The mana wards brightened slightly, signaling the barrier’s readiness.

Thane raised his hand. "Begin."