"...It’s about his current situation. I’m not quite sure how to put this."

"Then don’t. Just say it."

"The cadets hate his guts," he said. "Somehow, they can’t stand how well he performs compared to them. Then there’s the matter of the instructors’ test. They found out he knew what was happening and said nothing."

Roen went on to explain the incident in the mess hall that had occurred an hour earlier.

Crack.

Ingrid felt the paper tear beneath her fingers. She noticed Roen’s raised brow and calmly set it down, her face betraying nothing.

"So, what’s the problem?"

"Well, the prime’s results are... extraordinary. Monstrous, even. We haven’t seen a cadet like him since your time. He also has the highest Temper Points. There’s no doubt he’ll become the prime."

Ingrid raised an eyebrow.

"And?"

Roen frowned.

"If he can’t get the cadets to follow him, it’ll be impossible to compete with the other Houses. South will lose." He hesitated. "I think we should intervene."

"No."

"But—"

"If he can’t handle something like this himself, then he has no business leading them."

"Major—"

"End of discussion."

Roen ground his teeth, but still fisted his chest.

"...Yes, Major."

"What about the preparations?"

Ingrid could still see the dissatisfaction in Roen’s eyes, but she ignored it, waiting for an answer.

"It’ll be ready, Major. We’re pushing them as far as they can go. By the end of the week, they’ll be ready."

"Good." Ingrid nodded, then turned back to her paper. "Dismissed."

She heard the crack of Roen’s knuckles. Then he fisted his chest and left the office.

Alone, Ingrid lowered the paper. Her leg had begun bouncing rapidly beneath the desk. She bit absently at her finger before letting out a quiet breath, her gaze settling on her rune tab.

He was supposedly a genius, yet he couldn’t even follow a single instruction.

Why hadn’t he called?

...

Zephyrion was blankly staring at his room’s ceiling when his rune tab vibrated.

He frowned, sitting upright. He had given Tobias, Fiona, and the other Calderalth cadets his signal, but they knew better than to call unless it was necessary. Unless... it was.

He looked at the tab, then froze. This signal...

’Ingrid.’

Zephyrion’s frown deepened. Why would she be calling him? Had he done something wrong? Nothing came to mind. He stared at it, wondering whether to answer.

But his arm had already reached for it. The quiet voice came before he even realized he had picked up.

"Hey."

He cursed inwardly, caught completely off guard. He instinctively straightened before realizing it was only a voice call and she couldn’t actually see him. Clearing his throat, he answered,

"...Hey."

A long silence followed.

"...you didn’t call. I said you could call if you needed help with anything."

Zephyrion blinked, unsure how to respond. Truthfully, he hadn’t needed help with anything. That was why he had never found a reason to call.

"...I was busy with training."

Zephyrion frowned at his own answer, wondering why he hadn’t simply told the truth.

"So that’s why."

Ingrid’s voice sounded brighter now. One could even argue... happier.

"I understand. But it’s all necessary. You’ll be thanking us at the end of everything."

"...Yeah."

Another moment of silence passed.

"Well..."

"...well what?"

"...Do you need help with anything...?"

Zephyrion paused. The answer was an obvious no. He shrugged. He’d make up for the previous lie and simply tell the truth this time. It shouldn’t matter.

"...Yes."

He frowned at his own answer. What was he doing? Yet, instead of correcting himself, his frown only deepened as he continued.

"...I have trouble figuring out Titan Form. It’s..."

Zephyrion proceeded to narrate some absurd story about having trouble with Titan Form. Once he was done, he sighed inwardly, realizing how ridiculous it had sounded.

’I should just say I’m joking.’

He opened his mouth, but Ingrid beat him to it.

"Hm, it’s actually pretty straightforward." Ingrid said a little too quickly. "You just have to..."

Zephyrion held his tongue and listened as she explained everything he already knew. He even threw in the occasional "okay" and nod.

"...So? Do you understand?"

"I do."

"Good." She paused for a moment. "Anything else?"

This time, Zephyrion managed to keep himself in check.

"No."

"...nothing?"

Zephyrion frowned.

"...Nothing."

Ingrid fell silent for a moment.

"You know... it doesn’t have to be rune-related. If you’re having trouble with anything, you can tell me. I’ll help." She paused before adding more quietly, "If I’m not busy."

Zephyrion couldn’t understand what she meant. What trouble was there? The only thing that came to mind was the issue with the cadets, but that was so minor it hardly seemed worth mentioning.

After giving it a little thought, he answered,

"...there’s nothing."

"...I see."

Ingrid’s voice had grown noticeably quieter.

"Alright then. I guess that’s that."

The call ended. Zephyrion sat there, staring at his rune tab for several moments, his frown deepening.

’Was that the wrong response?’

He wondered, recalling Ingrid’s tone. Eventually, he shrugged and lay back on his bed. There was no helping it. It was the truth. What else was he supposed to say? Somehow, the thought of lying to Ingrid felt... unpleasant.

He stared at the ceiling, a small smile unknowingly forming on his face.

What a weird call.

Then he sensed a shift beside him and turned. Lumi’s eyes were open, quietly staring at him.

The smile vanished from Zephyrion’s face.

She had been awake? Since when?

He cleared his throat.

"...What?"

A smug smile slowly spread across Lumi’s face. She simply stared at him, her eyes brimming with amusement.

Zephyrion did not like that expression.

He scoffed.

"Stop staring at me and sleep."

Lumi’s smile only widened. Zephyrion huffed and quickly turned onto his other side.

Of all the times she could have woken up, she chose now.

The next couple of days, the hatred from the cadets continued to grow, and the vandalism of his table became a regular occurrence.

Yet each time, Zephyrion merely covered it with another sheet of metal, sat down, and ate without uttering a word.

The Calderalth youths constantly tried to change his mind, urging him to retaliate, to send a message. Yet he shut them down every time. Since he’d stopped him in the cafeteria, though, Kaiden hadn’t brought the matter up again.

As the days passed, their training became even more intense. Zephyrion soon became aware of an emerging pattern. They were being pushed hard, too hard.

They were barely given enough time to recover before being thrown into another round of torture. Without time to recover, they weren’t growing stronger. They were caught in a downward spiral, becoming weaker with each passing day.

Yet the instructors didn’t seem to care, almost as though pushing them to their limits was the entire point.

Zephyrion caught a clue during dinner on the eve of the week’s end. The scent of the food reached his nose, and he frowned. He ate as little as possible, then quietly told only Lumi to do the same.

The next morning, the sound of doors slamming ripped through the fortress.

Zephyrion groggily opened his eyes to a crimson-haired, crimson-eyed man charging toward him, a punch already hurtling for his face.

A Sanguine.