Chapter 526. A Bear Is Part of the Scheduled Activities

Chapter 526: 526. A Bear Is Part of the Scheduled Activities

The second round had begun with renewed vigor, but the playful atmosphere of the previous match had been replaced by something more focused, more desperate.

The students were testing each other’s limits, the air thick with the acrid tang of spent mana and the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of boots pounding against packed earth.

However, beneath the surface of the tactical maneuvering, William’s instincts honed in countless battles where a single misstep meant a blade between the ribs was screaming.

His eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, tracked every movement on the field, but they kept drifting back to one person: Ellie.

During a brief lull while the teams reset their positions, he saw it. Ellie slowed at the edge of the field.

For three heartbeats, her entire posture fractured. One hand pressed briefly, almost convulsively, against the small of her back.

Her breath hitched a tiny, sharp gasp that was swallowed by the wind before she forced herself upright. When she turned to face the group, she wore a smile.

But it was a brittle thing, a mask constructed too quickly, arriving just a fraction too fast to be genuine.

William moved, cutting through the chaos of retreating students to intercept her.

"You all right?" he asked, his voice low enough to avoid drawing attention but carrying the unmistakable weight of concern.

Ellie didn’t flinch, but he saw the way her shoulders locked.

"Oh, yes!" she said, the words tumbling out with practiced cheer. Her smile widened, though it didn’t reach the corners of her eyes.

"Just a bit of soreness, Instructor Wade... Probably just residual stiffness from that long carriage ride."

"I’ll stretch it out later, I promise."

William nodded slowly, offering a reassuring hum, but internally, his mind was already dissecting her response.

’Soreness.’ An odd choice of words for a trained healer.

A healer who understood the intricate map of human anatomy would not simply ’accept’ pain; they would diagnose it, neutralize it, or at the very least, soothe it with a microscopic pulse of restorative mana.

The fact that she hadn’t even attempted to smooth the ache away with the slightest spark of magic struck him as profoundly wrong. It wasn’t just strange; it was deliberate.

A concealment.

The observation settled uneasily in his gut, joining a collection of other discordant notes he had been cataloging since the carriage ride home: the way she had flinched when the wheels hit a rut, the way she had been uncharacteristically quiet during the evening meal.

’Is she hiding an injury? Or is it something worse?’ The question burned at the back of his mind, but he knew the rules of engagement.

Pressing her now, in front of Kaela’s loud exuberance and Clara’s watchful eyes, would only force her deeper into her shell.

"You’ve done enough for today," William said instead, stepping closer to lower his voice further. "Go. Rest..."

"I want you off your feet for the remainder of the afternoon."

Ellie blinked, surprised. "But the final round—"

"That wasn’t a request, Ellie... It’s an order from your instructor."

A grateful smile touched her lips genuinely this time, but beneath it, there remained a shadow of something guarded, something weary. "Thank you, Instructor Wade... I appreciate it."

As she walked away, William watched her retreat, his hand instinctively drifting toward the hilt of his blade. He would let it pass for now, but he would not stop watching.

The tension of the training grounds faded into the golden glow of autumn as the Academy’s small festival arrived later that week. The air was sweet with the smell of roasted nuts, spiced cider, and woodsmoke.

Lanterns hung from ancient trees, casting dancing shadows across the cobblestones.

For once, the usual aloofness that defined Lia was nowhere to be found. Instead of her typical guarded posture, she moved through the festival crowds with a strange, focused energy—genuine, unrestrained enthusiasm channeled through the only medium she knew: absolute order.

William spotted her near the entrance, and to his genuine surprise, she wasn’t just wandering; she was prepared. She arrived at the festival grounds clutching a neatly organized sheet of parchment, the ink fresh and the lines drawn with mathematical precision.

"What exactly is that?" Kaela asked, sidling up to Lia with a smirk, already eyeing a nearby stall selling candied apples.

Lia unfolded the paper with an air of profound importance, tapping it with her quill.

"I’ve mapped out an optimal route for tonight’s festivities," she announced, her chin lifted with defensive dignity. "We will hit ten stalls in sequence."

"Twenty minutes per stall to allow for full sensory appreciation."

"A meal break is scheduled precisely at the midpoint to prevent blood sugar fluctuations."

Kaela stared at the parchment in open, slack-jawed disbelief. "Lia... you made a festival schedule."

"I am still learning how to properly enjoy myself, Kaela," Lia snapped back, though the flush creeping up her neck betrayed her. "Not everyone approaches leisure with your complete lack of structural integrity."

"Let me learn it my own way."

The group stood silent for a moment. Ellie, who had been watching from the side with a pale but peaceful expression, let out a soft laugh.

"That is actually unbearably sweet, Lia."

Lia’s defensive posture shattered instantly.

"Don’t say that!" she hissed, frantically refolding the parchment as if to hide the evidence of her effort. "Don’t you dare say that aloud!"

"You’ll fluster me and ruin the entire schedule!"

William watched Lia as she marched forward, her quill poised like a conductor’s baton, ready to mark off each festival attraction with ruthless efficiency.

A memory flickered in his mind of a younger Lia, years ago, whose eyes had been cold as winter flint, someone who viewed anything resembling ’fun’ as a tactical weakness.

Back then, she would have buried herself in the training halls until her hands bled, using exhaustion as a shield against connection.

Seeing her now, fussing over the precise timing of a candied apple stall, sent a strange, unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest. She wasn’t just learning to enjoy herself; she was learning to live.

Without saying a word, William fell into step beside her. He became the silent guardian of her meticulously constructed itinerary, letting her lead the way through the swirling chaos of autumn colors and festival noise.

He had no intention of breaking her fragile spell of enthusiasm.

The afternoon dissolved into a kaleidoscopic blur of sensory overload. The festival was a beautiful, harmless riot, though ’harmless’ was a relative term when Kaela was involved.

At the ring toss stall, Kaela, fueled by the competitive fire that never truly left her, didn’t just throw a ring; she launched it with the force of a siege engine.

CRACK.

The wooden target board didn’t just wobble; it splintered violently under the impact. Shards of painted pine flew through the air like shrapnel.

The stall owner let out a strangled yelp, his eyes welling with genuine tears as he stared at his ruined prize display. Kaela froze, her hand still extended, looking more confused by the destruction than guilty.

"Uh... sorry about that," Kaela muttered, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. "I think I overshot the trajectory."

William moved in before the situation could escalate into a full-blown crisis, producing an apologetic handful of silver coins to compensate the shaken merchant. "My apologies, sir."

"My student has... enthusiastic aim."

As they moved on, the absurdity of the day only intensified. At an archery booth, Lia, to everyone’s astonishment, actually managed to win.

After three precise, almost clinical shots that left the instructor blinking in surprise, she was handed an enormous, unnaturally fluffy stuffed bear.

Lia took the creature, holding it at arm’s length. She stared at it for a long, visibly confused moment, her brow furrowed as if she were analyzing a complex spell matrix.

She seemed genuinely perplexed by the concept of a prize that possessed no tactical utility. Then, with sudden, startling solemnity, she turned and thrust the bear toward William’s chest.

"Here."

William blinked, holding the massive thing to prevent it from crushing him. "Lia, I don’t need a bear."

"You have one now," she replied flatly, her chin lifting in that familiar defensive posture. "Carry it... It is part of the scheduled activities."

"The schedule includes me as a pack animal for oversized plushies?"

"Do not question the logistics, William."

The day continued its descent into delightful madness. Then came the moment that would be talked about in Academy halls for months: Catherine’s unexpected participation in the Grand Autumn Pie Eating Contest.

What started as what appeared to be a dare likely whispered by Olivia with a mischievous glint in her eye turned into a display of sheer, terrifying willpower.

The crowd gathered, hushed with anticipation. A dozen contestants lined up, faces already smeared with crust and filling.

But Catherine? Catherine sat before her pie with the same serene, unnerving composure she maintained during diplomatic negotiations.

Chomp. Swallow. Repeat.

There was no frantic shoveling, no desperate gasping for air. Catherine ate with a methodical, almost hypnotic rhythm. Each bite was precise, each swallow controlled.

While the other contestants ended up looking like they had been caught in a flour explosion, faces covered in sticky berry filling, hands stained red, Catherine remained an anomaly.

When the final bite disappeared, the crowd erupted into stunned applause. Catherine sat upright, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a pristine linen handkerchief.

Not a single crumb clung to her lips; not a speck of filling stained her dress. She looked as though she had just finished a light afternoon tea rather than a competitive feeding frenzy.