The hooded figure ducked behind the bushes, vanishing from sight. The forested edge of the academy grounds was eerily quiet now, save for the faint whisper of wind brushing the tall grass. Avin and Henry moved slowly, deliberate in their steps, trying to keep their breathing even and their boots from snapping any twigs beneath them.

Henry leaned close, whispering with the same excitement that always preceded his bad ideas."How many points do you think we'll get for subduing this person—?"

Avin didn't even let him finish. He shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel, thrusting his finger against Henry's lips hard enough to push his head back. "Shhh," he hissed through gritted teeth.

Henry blinked, nodded once with exaggerated obedience, and then turned his gaze back toward the bush. The two crept closer again, crouching now, their forms hidden by the shrubs. When they reached the thick cluster of leaves, they carefully peeked over the edge.

The hooded figure was kneeling on the other side, methodically spreading a grey, coarse substance onto the grass. From their position, Avin could see the lines beginning to take form — a circle, then connecting lines, then six pointed angles converging into a pattern that sent a chill up his spine. It looked ancient, deliberate — one of those forbidden sigils used for summoning, etched in ash.

"Is that—" Avin whispered under his breath, narrowing his eyes. The faint scent of burnt bone lingered. These weren't ordinary ashes.

"What do you think he's doing?" Henry whispered directly into Avin's ear.

Avin turned instantly, his face twisting in disbelief. "Can't you just shut up for one minu—"

Then his ears twitched.

A sharp whoosh tore through the silence, slicing the air. Avin didn't think — his body reacted before his mind could catch up. He shifted left, drawing the sword still sheathed at his waist and bringing it up in one clean motion. The dagger struck the sheath with a metallic clang, vibrating in place.

Avin looked up, eyes locked on the hooded figure. "What the hell, man?"

Henry crossed his arms and nodded with forced indignation. "Yeah, what the hell, man?"

Avin gave him a side-eye that could end worlds.

"You could have killed me!" Avin shouted, lowering the sheath and strapping it back into place.

"Yeah, you could have killed him," Henry echoed again.

"Would you please shut up—"

"Yeah, will you ple—" Henry froze mid-sentence as Avin turned to him slowly, his glare darker than the forest around them. Henry's lips snapped shut immediately, miming a zipping motion across them before facing forward again.

The hooded man just stood there, watching them — still as stone, his presence radiating quiet menace. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rasped, almost as if his throat had been scraped raw.

"I chose this place carefully," he said. "A corner of the city where no one passes. The south entrance is the least used path in the whole academy. So tell me—" he tilted his head, "how did you find me?"

Avin pointed casually over his shoulder toward the tall academy tower behind them. "From that window," he said simply.

The figure's head tilted lower, the expression beneath his hood unreadable — but Avin could feel the wave of disappointment rolling off him. "Oh."

"Yeah, it was incredibly easy," Henry added, tone serious as though he was giving helpful feedback. "If you want a better hiding spot, we can help you find one."

Avin almost choked on his own breath.

"I suppose," the hooded man said, straightening up, "I'll have to deal with you two."

Avin's muscles tensed immediately, his hand drifting toward his sword. Henry, of course, didn't stop talking.

"How many points do we get when we beat you?"

Avin glanced at him as though he had just asked for divine punishment. Yet in Henry's wide eyes, there wasn't fear — only genuine curiosity.

"Henry, this isn't some—"

Whip!

Another blade sliced through the air — this one silent and fast, low to the ground. Avin hadn't heard the full motion this time, only the faint distortion of air that came half a second too late.

The dagger was already in front of Henry's face — the blade reflecting his widened eyes.

Avin's instincts roared. His vision flashed crimson. Time stretched thin, everything slowing to a crawl.

He saw the path of the dagger clearly now — a perfect straight line aimed between Henry's eyes. It was about to touch skin when Avin moved, snapping his hand up and hurling the dagger he still held. The two blades collided midair, ricocheting away with a metallic ring. The first dagger deflected, stabbing harmlessly into the dirt beside Henry's foot.

Henry froze, blinking twice, before whispering, "That was awesome."

Avin didn't answer. His glowing eyes faded slightly, his breathing steady but sharp. His hand flexed around the handle of the dagger, the weapon that had saved both their lives.

He looked at the man in the hood again. The figure hadn't moved — but the air around him was shifting, pulsing with some kind of dense energy. Avin could tell. The man wasn't a student. He wasn't even supposed to be here.

There were trees everywhere — too many for Avin to swing his swords without cutting everything in sight. He'd get expelled before the fight even started if he caused damage here. That left him one option.

He flipped the dagger in his grip, adjusting his stance. The weapon felt unfamiliar in his hand, but his instincts reached deeper — somewhere in the fog of memories that didn't belong entirely to him.

Flashes of another life, another battle — the original Avin's hand moving the same way.

He exhaled slowly. "Alright," he muttered, half to himself. "Let's see how good you are with daggers."

The figure shifted slightly in response, his own hand lowering to his belt where another dagger gleamed faintly under the moonlight.

Henry stood frozen between them, looking from one to the other with awe. "Wait—are we actually fighting him?"

Avin's red eyes flared again, the faint hum of mana building in his core.

"Stay back," he said.

And then, in a blink, they moved.

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