Melody's scream pierced the hall—but even her voice was drowned beneath the deafening hum of condensed power. The mana circles expanded further, their radiant symbols pulsing ominously as energy pooled into them, forming a terrifying prelude to destruction.

The three boys in front of Michael paled instantly.

"I-Impossible..."

"We're going to die!"

Randolph and Craig, standing beside Braydon, turned and fled without hesitation—dropping all pretense of nobility in a desperate scramble for survival.

Braydon remained rooted to the spot. His earlier sneer had crumbled into wide-eyed horror, his body frozen in place like a statue before a firing squad. The overwhelming presence had stripped away every ounce of his arrogance, leaving only a trembling boy in its wake.

Unfortunately for him, unlike the training dummies used in spell classes, he had no protective runes or barriers—no shield to absorb what was coming.

From the center of each mana circle, three massive icicles took form—each nearly five feet long and several inches thick. Shaped like lances, they hovered in place for a heartbeat, then shot forward with a piercing crack.

The speed was blinding.

The closest target—Braydon—was struck first. A bloodcurdling scream tore through the air.

Randolph and Craig, still within earshot, sprinted faster at the sound of it—fear lending wings to their heels.

But Michael's expression remained fierce, almost primal, as he watched the scene unfold. His eyes tracked each glacial spear as it hurtled toward its mark. Two more dull thuds echoed down the corridor, followed by startled, strangled cries.

Then… silence.

The moment the spears struck, they dissolved—fading into motes of shimmering frost, beautiful and haunting. The glowing remnants hovered for a moment before drifting away, vanishing like dying stars.

Behind him, Melody stood frozen. She had squeezed her eyes shut the moment the first scream echoed, unable to witness the carnage firsthand. Her breath trembled in her chest. She hadn't imagined this—hadn't thought Michael capable of such ruthless violence. Not here. Not in Arcadia Academy.

And yet, the evidence screamed otherwise.

"Let's go," Michael said at last, his voice low and hoarse. He reached out for Melody's arm.

But she recoiled, yanking herself away as though burned. "You… You monster!" she cried. Her voice cracked with emotion—rage, disbelief, and betrayal colliding in a single breath. "How could you kill them!?"

Michael blinked. "Kill?" he repeated, confusion darkening his brow. "When did I kill anyone?"

Melody froze mid-step.

Slowly, she turned her gaze toward where Braydon had fallen.

He lay sprawled on his back, unmoving—but not bleeding. No blood, no wounds. Just… fear. His body trembled faintly, his mouth slightly agape, as if the scream had never fully left his lungs.

Farther down the hall, Randolph and Craig sat slumped against the wall, their eyes wide and faces ghostly pale. Yet like Braydon, they bore no injuries. Not even a scratch.

"Did you really think I'd kill a student?" Michael asked softly, incredulously. "Even him?"

Sure, he wasn't in the best headspace at the moment—but cold-blooded murder? That wasn't something Michael could ever see himself doing. At least… he hoped not.

Still, it stung a little to see how quickly Melody had assumed the worst. He couldn't entirely blame her—the attack had looked lethal—but a part of him had hoped she knew him better than that.

Then again, subtlety wouldn't have worked. Braydon and his cronies only responded to force. If Michael had held back, the harassment would have continued unchecked. Fear, he figured, was the only language they understood.

He glanced at Melody, his emerald eyes searching her face. She looked shaken—confused—and there, for a fleeting moment, something else flickered in her gaze.

Was that fear?

But it vanished before he could be certain.

"We need to go. Before a professor shows up…" she murmured, regaining her composure. Without another word, she took his arm and marched forward, stepping over Braydon's unconscious body as though it were roadkill.

Michael followed silently.

As they passed Craig and Randolph, the two lackeys remained utterly still, their eyes wide and unblinking. Not a word escaped their lips—not even a breath of protest. The fear etched on their faces told Michael all he needed to know.

His warning had landed. For now, at least.

But what would happen when Braydon woke up?

No one else had witnessed the display. And yet, knowing Braydon's pride, Michael suspected the humiliation alone would be enough to provoke retaliation. He'd cast the first stone, and now the path ahead was clouded with uncertainty. Would it lead to petty rivalry... or something far worse?

He cast one last glare at the shaken boys as they passed, wordlessly reinforcing the message: Don't test me.

Their hurried steps soon brought them to the violet dormitory. Melody pushed open the door, then turned to him with narrowed eyes.

"Get in," she commanded, her voice cold—steeped in noble authority.

Michael sighed inwardly, then stepped inside.

To his surprise, Rudy was sprawled comfortably on the lounge, casually munching on a fruit and flipping through a book lazily. The moment he saw them, his eyes lit up.

"Oh hey, guys! Happy Sunday," he greeted with a grin.

His cheer was promptly shattered by Melody slamming the door behind her. She whirled on Michael, jabbing a finger in his face.

"What the hell was that back there!?" she snapped.

"Whoa, what did he do?" Rudy sat upright, instantly alert. His interest piqued like a hawk spotting prey.

Melody ignored him, her sapphire eyes still burning into Michael. "You attacked Braydon! What were you thinking!?"

"You attacked Braydon!?" Rudy blurted, leaping to his feet. His expression lit up like a child on festival day. "Did you kick his ass? Did he cry?"

He fired off questions without pause.

"I bet he cried—I swear I saw a tear in his eye when I bumped into him that first night," Rudy added, grinning from ear to ear. He didn't even give Michael or Melody a chance to reply.

Michael couldn't help it—a corner of his mouth twitched. As serious as the situation was, Rudy's unfiltered enthusiasm made it hard to stay solemn.

He wanted to tell him everything. He knew Rudy, of all people, would appreciate the theatrics—the calculated display of power.

But Melody's piercing glare reminded him that not everyone found it amusing.

Maybe I did act a little rashly... Michael thought, exhaling a slow sigh.

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