Chapter 269: Triple Panic

In the academy’s upper floor’s quiet hallway, I stood in front of the head of Facilities Management alongside everyone.

Miss Craw was a sharp-eyed, middle-aged woman who was in charge of the academy's… facilities. If a student or faculty member needed a classroom for a club, a private practice chamber, or one of the training yards, they had to go through her first.

From the rumors I’d heard, she was apparently notoriously strict. Getting her approval for anything usually required extensive paperwork; your records would be scanned thoroughly, and you would also need a mountain of patience.

But Leila had always managed to secure a private room for us without much issue. I actually thought the rumors about her being strict were false. In fact, I saw her as mighty generous even.

Then, on that day, I trampled, or rather, burned her generosity with my own sheer stupidity.

…

“I am truly sorry for my negligence, Miss Craw,” I said as Carine, offering the sincerest, deepest bow my back could possibly manage. “I shall pay for the reparations right away! Whatever the cost of the structural damage and the training mat, I shall cover it in full!” I spoke with conviction.

I really, really didn’t want this incident to tarnish my student report, or worse, get me kicked out of the Honors class. And no, it wasn't because I was afraid of disappointing the Third Prince or anything. It was because I did not want to face Mother if that happened. The mere thought of her reaction gave both of my bodies simultaneous chills.

The only logical solution I could think of for breaking a strict academy rule like this… was money.

Throwing cash at the problem, surely that would help. If simply paying for the standard reparations wasn’t enough to make this go away, I was fully prepared to pay extra under the table. My pocket money wasn’t seeing much use anyway.

I raised my head, hoping to see the face of a woman willing to take money to write this off the record. Or, at the very least, a stern, administrative lecture about safety protocols. Instead, Miss Craw was waving her hands frantically, a slight panic carved onto her face.

“P-Please, Lady Carine. You mustn’t worry about such a thing!” she stammered, putting on an awkward smile, reaching out as if to prevent me from lowering my head any further. “There is absolutely no need for you to bow! We’ll handle the repairs ourselves, no need to worry at all!”

I blinked at her, completely thrown off.

“But… the mat was entirely burned through, and the floor underneath was scorched as well,” I pressed on, trying to inject some basic accountability into the conversation. “Surely, I must pay for some of the damages.”

“Oh, yes, about that! The room was actually scheduled for routine maintenance in the first place! And we were just about to replace those exact mats with newer models anyway! So, really, no harm done!” she awkwardly chuckled.

The heck do you mean “no harm done”?! The floor’s literally scorched black!

To be honest, had it not been for Leila, the damage could’ve been far worse.

—

Moments after I leveled my blade against Mirabelle, our match started.

Mirabelle was eager to make the first move, as she began to quickly chant.

“For the flames shall be our savior

For the flames shall be our guide—!”

The moment I heard her chant, I knew what she was aiming to do.

Fireball, huh?

I steadied my stance, keeping my focus locked on her. Since I wanted to test my own reaction time and precise blade control, my plan was simple: wait for the spell to manifest, track its trajectory, and cleanly deflect it away with a swift, angled swipe of my sword.

“May we bask in its flames!

May we bask in its glory—!

[Fireball]!”

A small, concentrated sphere of flame formed right at the tips of her manicured fingers. It was roughly the size of a baseball; Feyt’s ears could even hear it humming with heat. True to her reputation as a prodigy, it shot toward me with incredible speed, cutting through the air.

My eyes tracked it easily. My muscles flexed, preparing to execute the parry.

But, as I raised my blade in front of me… I realized.

I was holding my personal blade.

The one gifted by Mother.

It was made of wood.

And the projectile screaming towards me was literal fire.

Wood.

Meeting fire.

Panic echoed across both of my bodies as I realized what I was about to do, which was literally burning Mother’s gift. I forcefully shifted myself to dodge the fireball instead, twisting my body to its absolute limit.

The fireball whizzed past me, missing me entirely.

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for what lay directly behind me. The fireball slammed dead-center into the training mat. The worst part was that the fire basically erupted the moment it landed, flashing the entire room white for a split second.

However, even though the fireball did pass me by harmlessly, it landed on the mat behind me. In an instant, its flame burned bright.

“Ah,” was the only word I could say as the flames quickly flared up.

A second layer of panic spread within me.

I quickly glanced over toward the entrance of the practice chamber, instinctively looking for the ol’ reliable.

Leila was gone. The heavy wooden door was slightly ajar, swinging on its hinges.

Right then, a third layer of panic erupted.

Then, as the fire burned brighter, melting its way through the mat and directly scorching the floorboards, Ricent suddenly stepped forward.

“Don’t worry! I’ll fix this!”

Oh, right! He has water magic!

We’re saved!

A proud, radiant smile broke across Ricent's face. He raised his hands toward the blazing mat, his eyes sparkling as if thinking his time to shine had finally arrived.

For a second, I actually felt relief. A water mage was exactly what a burning room needed.

Sadly, I had severely underestimated, or rather, overestimated Ricent. As it turned out, the only functional water spell the guy actually knew was the one I personally taught him.

“For the tides shall be our spear.

For the tides shall be our shield—!”

OH NO YOU DON’T!

Acting purely on survival instinct, I threw my body forward as Feyt, launching myself across the mat in a desperate, flying tackle. I caught Ricent mid-chant, forcefully driving him into the floor before he could finish the second verse.

“Wha— Feyt! Why did you—?” Ricent whined from the floor.

By the time Ricent and I grunted, groaning as we pushed ourselves back up from the floor, Leila was already standing right beside us.

She held a massive, steel bucket of water. Without a single word, a hint of panic, or even a change in her expression, she hurled the contents of the bucket directly onto the center of the fire.

The fire sizzled away, clouding the room with white steam. And that… pretty much led me straight to Miss Craw.

—

The afternoon sun shone down on the academy courtyard as the five of us—Carine, Feyt, Mirabelle, Ricent, and Leila—walked in a somewhat awkward formation. The fresh air was a welcome relief, helping to replace the lingering burning smell clinging to our uniforms.

Even now, walking away from the meeting with Miss Craw, I couldn't help but marvel at how the meeting had gone. She had been absolutely insistent that I wasn't at fault. She had practically tripped over herself to assure me that the scorched floorboards and vaporized training mat were due for replacement in the first place.

I genuinely wondered if Miss Craw was normally just that generous a person. If she were, then the rumors circulating about her being a heartless, strict woman would be completely abhorrent. It was just one more reason for me to hate rumors.

A soft, hesitant clearing of a throat snapped me out of my internal monologue.

“L-Lady Carine…” Mirabelle murmured, her voice uncharacteristically small. Her signature red fan was snapped open, pressed silently over her mouth, hiding an embarrassed blush. “P-Please… accept my deepest, most sincere apologies! To display such unrefined control of a spell, I am truly, deeply ashamed!”

“Think nothing of it, Mirabelle,” I replied as Carine, offering her a reassuring nod. “It was an accident, one I caused myself. Thankfully, no one was harmed.”

“B-But still… I really wanted to show you my best spell…”

That excitement was… probably why the fire burned bright, wasn’t it?

Meanwhile, a few paces behind Carine, my other self was dealing with another mage. Ricent was walking right beside Feyt, his hands locked behind his head as he tilted his face upward.

“But seriously, Feyt, why did you stop me?” Ricent whined, pouting slightly. “My [Piercing Water] spell was totally gonna put out the fire!”

I didn't even look at him, keeping my eyes locked on the path ahead. “I was just preventing you from evolving from a wall-crusher into a hole-digger.”

Ricent tilted his head. “Hole-digger? That sounds kind of cool!”

In what world is that cool?

As the chatter faded into the background, my thoughts drifted back to the whole reason I had initiated the spar in the first place.

Honestly, looking back, there really wasn't any immediate benefit in learning how to fight mages right now.

The upcoming tournament wouldn't even feature them in the brackets. Hell, if I wanted to be practical, I should’ve focused on learning how to deal with archers like Clarissa first. Her instant headshot against Feyt still lingered in the back of my mind.

But that didn't change the fact that I would absolutely need to train in anti-mage combat eventually.

The real question was... who could I even practice with?

Ricent was… unreliable. He would probably tear a hole through a mountain first before he could learn how to hold back.

Mirabelle... was also out of the question. Despite how small she made her spell, the impact of her spells was as loud as her pride.

I couldn't really rely on the other students in their mage class either. For one, I didn't actually know any of them. But more importantly, from what I’d heard, the rest of the freshman mages weren't actually that good yet. It was only the first year, after all.

So, what are my options?

Perhaps I could reach out to some of the upperclassmen? The seniors would definitely have better control over their spells. Or maybe I could approach an actual academy instructor for guidance?

Worst-case scenario, I could always write home. If I asked, I was confident that Father or Mother could arrange for a seasoned mage to come and spar with me.

But, well, that was a problem for another time. I had enough on my plate to deal with.

After all, the preliminary rounds were just around the corner, and I wasn’t going to lose my focus now.