CHAPTER 100: LEAD THE WAY.

Ren made his way back to his dormitory through corridors that felt strangely quiet after the thunderous arena atmosphere.

The adrenaline from his victory over Cassandra had long faded off, replaced by the kind of analytical calm that always settled over him during moments of solitude.

But as he approached his shared dorm, he could faintly hear something that made him pause; the unmistakable sound of focused hammering, punctuated by occasional muttered curses that would have made academy instructors blush.

He opened the door to find Lia hunched over her reading table, completely absorbed in what appeared to be an intricate metalworking project.

Delicate silver wires were being shaped into complex geometric patterns while tiny gemstones were carefully set into precise positions.

The air shimmered with the controlled heat of magical forging, and various jeweler’s tools were arranged with systematic precision around her workspace.

A half-finished pendant hung from a miniature magical anvil, its surface covered in engravings so detailed they seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

Several completed pieces lay arranged on a soft cloth—a bracelet that captured starlight in crystalline settings, earrings that seemed to contain tiny storms, and a ring whose band shifted through different metals as he watched.

"Need help with that?" he asked jokingly, watching as she adjusted the temperature of her magical forge for the third time while consulting what looked like a hand-drawn technical diagram.

"I’m working through some emotional processing," Lia declared, not looking up from her delicate wire work.

Her hands moved with practiced precision as she shaped the silver into impossible curves. "Turns out I have strong opinions about gemstone settings when I’m dealing with disappointment."

"I can see that," Ren observed, stepping carefully around a collection of precisely sorted magical materials.

"Very sophisticated work. I’m impressed by the integration of technical skill with artistic vision."

"Thank you. I’ve been at this for the past two hours."

She gestured at the transformed workspace with satisfaction that was only slightly undermined by the frustrated edge in her voice. "Productive channeling of emotional energy into measurable creative output."

Ren sat down on his own bed, which had been moved to provide the best viewing angle of her work area. "So this is how you process not making it to the final rounds? Precision metalworking?"

Lia paused in her adjustment of a particularly complex wire setting to look at him directly.

"You know I’m not really devastated about my future prospects, right? My previous trial performances guarantee entrance into the special class regardless of the tournament outcome."

"I figured you understood that part."

"Good, because I’d hate for you to think I was having some kind of existential crisis over career concerns."

She picked up a tiny sapphire and examined it against her magical light source. "This is about something completely different and infinitely more personal."

"Which is?"

"Myself. I wanted to prove to myself that I could reach the final stages," she said simply, her fingers never pausing in their delicate work.

"Not for advancement, not for recognition, not for any practical reason. I wanted to know that I was capable of performing at that level when it mattered."

She gestured at the intricate jewelry scattered across their table. "Instead, I got eliminated by a memory test.

"Not defeated in glorious magical combat by someone with superior abilities. Not outmaneuvered by brilliant tactical thinking. Eliminated because I couldn’t accurately recall a pattern I’d looked at for forty-seven seconds a few days ago!"

Ren understood immediately, but his attention was also drawn to the exceptional quality of her craftsmanship.

The pieces she’d created were museum-quality work that spoke of years of training and natural talent. "It feels like losing to your own limitations rather than to superior opposition."

"Exactly." Lia picked up one of her completed pieces—a delicate chain that seemed to capture moonlight in its links.

"When I was living on the streets, before Henrik found me scrounging through market scraps, I used to watch wealthy people through jewelry shop windows. I’d wonder what it felt like to own something so beautiful, something that proved you mattered enough for someone to spend time creating it."

Her voice carried old pain wrapped in current frustration. "I used to steal scraps of metal and broken pieces from the gutters behind the craftsmen’s district.

"Nothing valuable, just refuse that had been swept out with the garbage. But I’d try to make little trinkets from the scraps, using rocks to bend the metal and broken glass as pretend gemstones."

She held up the pendant she was working on, its surface reflecting their magical lighting in complex patterns.

"Henrik found me one night, four years old and trying to make a bracelet from copper wire I’d pulled out of a broken magical device. Instead of chasing me away from the surroundings of his shop like everyone else did, he brought me inside and showed me how to do it properly."

"Hence the jewelry crafting project?"

"Hence the jewelry crafting project." She set the pendant down with reverent care.

"Henrik always said that creating something beautiful from raw materials was proof that you mattered. That if you could take worthless scraps and transform them into something precious, you could prove your own worth to yourself."

She gestured at her completed pieces with a mixture of pride and vulnerability.

"When I failed that memory test, it felt like being that street kid again. Not good enough, not careful enough, not worthy of the good things that other people seemed to earn so easily. It was a bit nostalgic."

Ren remained silent as she finished, recognizing the weight behind her words.

She wasn’t looking for comfort or reassurance—she needed to voice the frustration that had been building inside her, to name the disappointment without having it minimized or explained away.

He understood her well enough to know that offering platitudes would only diminish what she’d shared.

When the last echo of her words faded, he leaned forward to examine the pendant more closely.

"This craftsmanship is exceptional," he said quietly, his tone carrying genuine admiration. "The precision in these engravings—they’re not just decorative, are they? There’s actual magical theory integrated into the pattern work."

"Don’t sound so surprised." But she was smiling now, the frustrated edge fading from her voice.

"I’m not surprised. I’m noting that you just spent hours demonstrating exactly the systematic thinking you were frustrated about not applying during the trial."

Lia paused mid-adjustment of a bookshelf. "Oh. That’s... actually kind of brilliant in a completely ridiculous way."

"Why not both?"

She laughed, and the sound transformed their newly organized space into something genuinely welcoming rather than just efficiently arranged.

"You know what?" Lia announced suddenly. "I’ve been cooped up in here stress-crafting for hours. Want to go blow some money in the market lanes? I need to do something completely frivolous before tomorrow’s quarterfinals kill us all."

Ren considered this. He’d been planning to spend the evening analyzing combat strategies, but the idea of getting away from academic pressure was surprisingly appealing. "Lead the way."