Friday

"Aah, Friday—my favorite day of the week," Dmitri said with the kind of enthusiasm that should honestly be illegal before noon.

I was face-down on my desk, halfway into a dream where I was rich, peaceful, and—most importantly—not required to fight for my life as part of my education.

Then he had to open his mouth.

"Meet me at the open ring. We’ll be having our class there," he added before casually walking out like he hadn’t just ruined multiple lives in one sentence.

I groaned into the desk, contemplating if I could legally erase Fridays from existence.

Every. Single. Friday.

Combat training.

Violence.

Sweat.

Humiliation.

Character development I did not ask for.

Ravian clapped his hands like an overexcited camp counselor. "You heard the instructor! Let’s get going!"

Around me, students were already getting up, stretching, mentally preparing to beat each other up in a socially acceptable setting.

"My Lady, are you really going to play dead?" Gawain asked, sounding like a man who had already accepted disappointment as a lifestyle.

"Yes," I said without lifting my head.

"We need to go. Everyone’s heading out."

"Just leave me here," I groaned into the desk, fully committed to my role as a tragic fallen soldier.

"You must have forgotten you’re ranked last," he added helpfully. "Aren’t you worried you’ll get expelled?"

That did it.

I slowly lifted my head, my soul buffering like it was running on poor connection. In the distance, I could see his teammates waving him over like he was the chosen one.

"You should go ahead," I told him. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"But—"

"I’ll follow in a bit," I cut in.

"What are you going to—"

I shoved him. "Just go."

He hesitated, then finally gave in and left, probably already preparing a speech for when I inevitably got disowned by the academy.

The moment he disappeared, I dropped my head back down.

"Blanca," someone whispered beside me.

"I told you to go..." I mumbled, assuming Gawain had come back to ruin my life again.

"Are you really sleeping right now?"

"Yes," I replied, because honesty is important.

Between night training, carving energy stones, and surviving rich men with emotional issues, I deserved this nap.

"You don’t want to attend Instructor Grant’s class?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me to report it to him?"

"Yes—No!" I shot up immediately, my survival instincts finally kicking in.

I look to my side to see Ravian sitting comfortably in Gawain’s seat.

He leaned his chin on his hand, watching me like I was a mildly entertaining documentary. "So you are alive."

I stared at him. "That depends. Are you here to drag me to the ring?"

"Yes."

"...Then no. I died five minutes ago."

"Unfortunate," he said, smiling. "Because Instructor Grant specifically mentioned you earlier."

I froze. "...What?"

"He said," Ravian continued, clearly enjoying this far too much, "’If Miss Frostine tries to skip again, bring her personally.’"

I closed my eyes. So this is how it ends. Not in battle. Not in glory. But being escorted like a criminal to a sparring ring I do not wish to participate in.

"...I hate Fridays," I muttered, slowly standing up like I was marching toward my execution.

Ravian stood as well, entirely too pleased. "Everyone does," he said. "Except Instructor Grant."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Open Ring Field

Ravian and I arrived last.

Instructor Grant’s gaze landed on me first, then shifted to Ravian like he was assessing the level of damage. "Did Blanca give you a hard time?"

Excuse me?

Ravian was the one who gave me a hard time.

"No, sir," Ravian said smoothly, like a professional liar. "She helped me lock the room and made sure everyone was present."

I slowly turned my head toward him.

Lock the room? Make sure everyone was present? Who is this Blanca and why is she so responsible?

Dmitri raised a brow, clearly not paid enough to question anything anymore. "Go to your teams."

"Yes, sir," we both answered.

Before we split, I leaned slightly toward Ravian, my voice low. "You lied to me."

"What lie?" he asked, blinking innocently like he deserved an award.

"The part where Sir Grant personally told you to drag me here."

"I don’t recall saying that," he replied, still committed to the performance.

I stared at him.

He smiled.

I considered violence.

"You—"

"Blanca! Ravian!" Dmitri’s voice cut through the air like a weapon. "What are you two still standing there? Move!"

I straightened immediately. "This isn’t over," I muttered.

"I’ll be waiting for it," Ravian said, still smiling like he enjoyed being a problem.

We split.

I walked towards my team, already feeling the tension shift as people subtly repositioned themselves.

"Rules are simple," Dmitri announced, pacing like a man who enjoyed watching chaos unfold. "Each team will form two pairs and spar against other teams. Those without a pair will fight each other. Your performance determines your points."

Behind me, I heard Stephano click his tongue. "...Lucky."

I didn’t even turn around to know that he wanted to fight me.

For what? Emotional reasons? Personal growth? Pure spite?

Honestly, I had no idea what I did to him besides existing and occasionally winning arguments against him.

I shook my head and mentally calculated.

Five people, two pairs, one unlucky soul. Guess who that’s going to be.

"I’ll pair with Bella," Sebastian said, casually appearing at beside me like this was pre-planned.

"Say that again," I hissed, turning to him, "and I’ll forget we’re teammates."

"I like calling you that," he grinned, completely unbothered.

Diana and Julienne clearly didn’t want to deal with Stephano so they paired with each other immediately which left Stephano all alone.

’Tragic.’

"Once you’re done pairing, the Lumina Drones will scan you," Dmitri continued, as small floating drones buzzed around like overly enthusiastic insects. "Matchups will be randomized and the pairs will fight first."

The drones scanned us, emitting soft pulses of light. Above us, a massive holographic screen appeared, displaying names spinning in a glowing wheel like this was some kind of twisted game show.

"Let’s test your luck," Dmitri said, tapping the interface.

The wheel spun fast, names blurred together, before stopping slowly.

"Gawain Delacroix and Anthony Lopellio," Dmitri read.

Another tap as the wheel spun again.

"And they’ll be fighting..." he paused, watching the result settle.

"Silvano Orientaly and Chester Abbott."

I crossed my arms, already settling in like I had front-row seats to a disaster.

"Students, go inside the ring," Dmitri ordered.

The four stepped forward.

Gawain, calm and composed as always, Anthony looking like he had something to prove, while on the other side Silvano stood there like he was attending a tea party instead of a fight, and Chester... well, Chester looked like he was the fight.

"Even if your enemy’s partner is down, continue fighting," Dmitri added. "You may choose to surrender—or not."

I blinked.

’...That was a little unfair. Two against one? What is this, a group project?’

Ting!

The signal rang.

Before I knew it, I had already moved closer to the ring, leaning slightly forward.

"Alright, and we’re starting strong!" I muttered under my breath, except not really under my breath because people around me were already turning to listen.

"Gawain immediately takes the lead—clean stance, good footing—Anthony’s backing him up but looks like emotional support right now—"

Silvano moved first—quick, precise. He didn’t rush.

"—and there it is, Silvano going for control instead of aggression. Classic. He’s testing the field first—Chester’s the opposite, though—oh wow, he’s not even thinking, he’s just charging—"

Chester lunged straight at Anthony but Anthony barely blocked in time, stumbling back a step.

"—and Anthony is reconsidering his life choices," I continued, nodding like this was a professional analysis and not me narrating violence for entertainment.

Gawain stepped in immediately, intercepting Chester with a clean strike that forced him back.

"—Gawain with the save! Beautiful timing, 10 out of 10, would not die today—"

Someone behind me snorted.

"Isn’t she the one who became an uninvited host when we were teamed up with Gawain?"

"She’s also the one who interrupted Sebastian’s fight."

"Why is she commentating again? She’s so unfair, only taking Gawain’s side."

I slowly turned my head.

They all suddenly found the ground fascinating.

I stared at them for a second longer, letting the awkwardness marinate, before turning back to the ring with a small sigh.

’If you’re going to complain, at least be entertaining about it,’ I thought.

But fine. They wanted fair?

I’ll give them fair.

I cleared my throat slightly like a professional announcer who had just been accused of bias on live broadcast.

"Alright," I said, voice a bit louder now, making sure everyone could hear. "Welcome to today’s match: Strategy vs. Chaos, featuring two people who knows what they’re doing and two who are emotionally present."

A few heads turned, some leaned closer, while the rest snickered.

"On one side, we have Gawain—disciplined, composed, and probably the only one here with a retirement plan. Partnered with Anthony—currently specializing in not dying."

"Hey!" someone protested.

"I said I’m being fair," I shot back.

I shifted my gaze.

"Opposing them are Silvano—calm, calculated, and the beastman equivalent of ’I already planned your next three moves and your funeral.’"

I paused just as Chester bulldozed forward again.

"—and Chester," I added, nodding, "a man who woke up today and chose violence as a personality."

A couple of students choked on their laughter.

Wester, as if summoned by the insult, charged again.

"—and THERE he goes! No thoughts, just vibes and destruction!"

Anthony barely blocked the incoming attack as he stumbled back.

"Anthony is hanging on by sheer willpower and possibly fear," I continued. "We respect that. Survival is a skill."

Gawain stepped in again, intercepting with a clean strike.

"—and Gawain with the babysitting duty! Protecting his teammate, protecting his sanity, protecting this entire match from turning into a funeral—"

Silvano slipped in.

"—and here comes the real menace," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Watch him—he’s not even rushing. He’s targeting Gawain directly which is smart, remove the strongest piece first—"

Their fists met—sharp and controlled.

"—see that? No wasted movement. That’s technique. That’s precision. That’s someone who reads people like open books—unlike some of you who can’t even read the syllabus—"

A student coughed loudly.

Behind them, Anthony got launched back again.

I winced slightly. "—and Anthony has been spiritually ejected from the fight. He is now fighting for his life in a separate storyline."

"Stop roasting him!" someone whispered.

"I’m motivating him," I corrected.

Inside the ring, Gawain and Silvano were having a one on one fight.

Chester tried to interfere—

"—and Chester has entered the chat again, completely uninvited—"

Gawain simply dodged and countered.

"—OOH! That was clean! That was chef’s kiss! If this was graded, that’s an A+ with extra credit—"

Anthony, somehow still alive, charged back in.

I blinked.

"...He respawned."

The crowd laughed.

"—and ladies and gentlemen, we are witnessing a miracle. Anthony has decided he’s not done suffering yet—"

Silvano moved again, faster this time.

"—and nope, Silvano said ’not today,’ and we are back to scheduled programming—"

I crossed my arms, nodding like a seasoned analyst.

"—If Anthony goes down, this turns into a 2v1," I muttered. "Which, by the way, is completely unfair but apparently allowed—thank you, academy rules—"

As if on cue, Anthony stumbled as Gawain glanced back.

That one second of distraction gave Silvano the chance to move.

"—and there it is—mistake," I said quietly.

The hit landed precisely.

Gawain staggered slightly as Silvano followed up, already committing to a swift kick—

"—oh he’s going for the combo finish, he’s feeling confident, he’s feeling spicy—"

—but Gawain adjusted with a slight shift of footing and then hooked Silvano’s leg.

"—WAIT—"

Silvano lost balance, tripped, and fell down.

"WOAHHH~" the crowd erupted.

I slapped my hand on the air like I was conducting chaos. "AND THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call humbling the composed! Silvano went from ’I’ve calculated everything’ to ’the floor is my new best friend’ in 0.2 seconds!"

A few students burst out laughing.

I wasn’t done.

"Look at that recovery though—no panic, immediate roll—oh he’s up again, he’s not even embarrassed, that’s dangerous—emotionally stable AND skilled? Pick a struggle!"

Inside the ring, Silvano brushed it off like nothing happened, already re-engaging.

Meanwhile Anthony was still fighting for his life.

"—and Anthony is still being chased by Chester like he owes him money!" I continued. "Sir, this is a team match, not a personal vendetta!"

Wester swung again—heavy, relentless.

Anthony blocked—barely.

"—that guard is hanging on by pure faith and bad decisions!"

Gawain stepped back in, intercepting—

"—and Gawain says ’not on my watch,’ protecting his teammate like a responsible citizen—take notes, people, this is teamwork!"

Silvano closed in again, faster this time—

"—and here comes Round Two: Revenge Edition!"