Jax cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the whispers like a dull blade through butter.

"I'm Professor Jax Rayne. Sword Combat."

Silence. Then whispers erupted.

An elf girl in the front row leaned toward her neighbor. "He looks younger than us."

A dwarf boy in the back snorted. "Is this a joke?"

Jax stood there, his mind completely blank.

'Shit. What the fuck am I supposed to teach? Lysandra said to prepare something. I didn't prepare ANYTHING.'

His eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for inspiration, and landed on a clipboard sitting on the desk.

'Attendance. Perfect. The universal time-waster.'

He snatched it up, flipping it open with exaggerated authority.

"Attendance," he announced. "When I call your name, say 'here' or whatever. I don't care."

Murmurs rippled through the class, but Jax ignored them. He squinted at the first name on the list.

"Aeliana von Crestia."

"Present," a bored, melodic voice replied.

Jax looked up.

Holy. Shit.

The girl was an elf, and not just any elf. She was the kind of beautiful that made you question if you were even the same species. Her hair was a cascading waterfall of silver on the outside, but inside the strands shimmered with purple and blue. Her ears were elegantly pointed, and her eyes were a deep, mesmerizing violet.

'I bet she gets told she's pretty every five seconds. Probably insufferable.'

He moved on.

"Astrid Ren Aleris."

"Present."

Another stunner. This one looked like a blend of elf and human—sharp features softened by warmth, with green eyes that sparkled with intelligence.

'This academy is a goddamn beauty pageant.'

Jax yawned, his exhaustion making everything feel surreal.

"Draven Drako... uh... whatever this crap is."

A sharp scraping sound filled the room as a chair was violently pushed back.

A dragonkin boy shot to his feet, his face red with fury. Two small, straight horns jutted from his forehead, and his crimson eyes burned with indignation.

"It's Draven Drakenveil," he snarled. "And I am the heir to the Drakenmoor throne."

Jax blinked at him, utterly unimpressed.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

Draven's jaw dropped. "What's that—?! It means I'm royalty, you ignorant—"

"Cool story," Jax interrupted, already looking back at the clipboard. "Sit down, Your Highness."

Laughter rippled through the class. Draven's face turned even redder, but he sat back down, seething.

Jax continued.

"Seraphina Drako... oh, same surname. So you'll be Seraphina Drakenmoor."

A soft, polite voice answered. "Present, sir."

Jax looked up again.

This one was different. She had the same horns as her seat partner, but hers were twisted and elegant, almost like decorative jewelry growing from her skull. Her features were soft, feminine, and undeniably beautiful. But what caught Jax's attention were the scales—delicate, shimmering scales visible on her palms and along her finger joints.

'I wonder how a handjob from her would feel. Would the scales add texture? Friction? Fuck.'

Seraphina smiled warmly. "Professor, Drakenmoor is our kingdom. Drakenveil is our family name."

"Ah, I see." Jax nodded, then glanced at Draven. "See that? That's how you explain things without sounding like a whiny bitch."

The class erupted in laughter. Draven looked ready to explode. Seraphina's smile widened.

"I assume you're his sibling?" Jax asked.

"Yes, sir. Brother and sister."

Jax turned to the class, gesturing at the two of them.

"This, students, is a perfect example of why you should take care of your children in their early years. One fall on the head, and you get that." He pointed at Draven.

The laughter was even louder this time. Even Seraphina had to cover her mouth to hide her giggles.

Draven looked like he was about to commit murder.

Jax moved on before the prince could recover.

"Elira Noct Varenis."

"Present."

Jax's gaze landed on a vampire girl sitting near the middle. Her hair was black with deep red undertones, and her skin was so pale and flawless it almost glowed. Her teeth looked normal at first glance, but when she smiled, he caught a glimpse of slightly sharper canines.

'Vampires. Great. I bet she's annoying as hell.'

He cleared his throat and deliberately avoided looking at any more students.

'Fuck it. I can't do it anymore.'

He rattled off the remaining names in rapid succession, his voice flat and monotone, until he reached the last one.

"Seris Fal Orenis."

A girl in the back row raised her hand. "Present, Professor."

Jax froze.

He knew that name. He knew that face.

It was her. The princess. The one who'd been cold to him in Veldora. The daughter of Queen Adelina—the one woman in this world he genuinely respected.

Seris met his gaze, her expression unreadable.

Jax's eyes narrowed.

'Oh, you're here. Perfect. I owe you for that attitude back then.'

He gave her a look that said, I will have my revenge.

She didn't flinch, but her jaw tightened slightly.

Jax set the clipboard down and stared at the class.

'Alright. Now what? I have to actually teach something.'

He thought for a moment, then shrugged.

'Fundamentals. Can't go wrong with fundamentals.'

"Alright, listen up," he said, his tone casual. "Sword combat isn't just about swinging a blade and hoping for the best. It's about understanding balance, weight distribution, and momentum. Your body is the foundation. If your stance is weak, your strike is weak. Simple as that."

The class seemed mildly interested. A few students nodded.

Then Draven stood up.

"This is bullshit," he announced.

Jax raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"This basic garbage," Draven sneered. "We've all learned this in our preparatory schools. We're at Astryx Academy. We don't need a lecture on 'balance and weight distribution' from some... some nobody who got hired yesterday."

A few students murmured in agreement.

Jax stared at him for a long moment.

Then he smiled.

'Perfect. Quest completion, here we come.'

"You're right," Jax said smoothly. "I'm clearly not qualified. Why don't you teach the class, Your Highness?"

Draven blinked, surprised. "What?"

"You heard me. You clearly know better than I do. So get up here and show us all how it's done."

Draven's chest puffed up with pride. "Fine. I will."

Jax casually scanned the room for an empty seat. There was only one—right next to Seraphina.

'I guess that won't be a problem. She was nice as well.'

He walked over and plopped down beside her. Draven passed him, heading to the front with a smug grin.

Seraphina glanced at Jax, surprised, but didn't say anything.

Jax leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms.

'Time for a nap.'

The scent of cinnamon and something faintly floral drifted from Seraphina. It was intoxicating.

'She smells perfect. Like... fire and sugar. Fuck. I could get used to this.'

But his exhaustion overrode everything else. His eyes drooped. His head tilted back.

Within seconds, he was out.

At the front of the room, Draven hesitated for just a moment before his ego took over.

He walked to the weapon cabinet and pulled out a practice sword, holding it up for everyone to see.

"This," he announced, "is what real sword combat looks like."

He swung the blade through the air with a flourish.

"These types of weapons require intense and long training. Yes, even a newbie understands balance and momentum—which is exactly what our new professor was wasting your time with."

He struck a pose, muscles flexing.

"What makes the difference is raw strength. Strength strong enough to strike so hard that the so-called 'balance and momentum' of your opponent can be shattered in a single blow. When you hit hard enough, technique doesn't matter. Power is everything."

He demonstrated several powerful strikes. His muscles bulged with each swing. The air cracked around the blade.

Some students actually took notes. Draven's confidence swelled with every passing minute.

Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen.

Draven was in his element, drunk on the attention.

Jax's eyes snapped open.

He stretched his arms above his head with an exaggerated yawn.

"Hwaaahh..."

Then he stood up and started walking toward the front of the room. His footsteps were slow. Deliberate.

Draven stopped mid-sentence.

"What do you want?" he snapped. "I'm teaching."

Jax smiled. That cold, dangerous smile.

"Just wanted to point out a few flaws in your demonstration."

Draven's face twisted. "Flaws? My technique is—"

"Garbage."

Whispers erupted.

"You're swinging with your arms," Jax said. "All power, no foundation. Your feet are planted wrong. Your hips aren't rotating. You're muscling through every strike instead of using momentum."

He tilted his head. "Know what that means? Anyone with half a brain can read your attacks from a mile away. You'll tire out in thirty seconds against a real opponent. And predictable means dead."

Draven's hands trembled with rage.

"You arrogant piece of—!" He grabbed the practice sword and pointed it at Jax. "Fine! If you're so confident, prove it! I'll show you what real power looks like!"

He dropped into an aggressive stance.

"If I'm wrong, then prove me wrong. Right here. Right now."

Jax's grin widened.

"Gladly."

He slowly unsheathed his sword.

"Come at me, Your Highness."

Draven charged with a roar.

WHOOSH!

His strike came down hard and fast—a diagonal slash aimed at Jax's shoulder. Pure power. No finesse. Every ounce of strength behind it.

Jax didn't block.

He stepped.

One small step to the side. His body pivoted smoothly. The blade whistled past his ear, missing by centimeters.

And in that same motion, Jax's sword came up.

CLANG!

He didn't clash with Draven's blade. He redirected it. A gentle tap at the perfect angle. Used Draven's own momentum against him.

The prince's sword swung wide—way wider than intended pulling his entire body off-balance.

'You put all your weight into that swing. Thanks for the free opening, dumbass.'

Jax stepped again. Closer. Inside Draven's guard.

His elbow shot forward.

THUD.

It connected with Draven's chest.

"Guh—!"

The air rushed out of Draven's lungs. He stumbled backward, gasping.

Jax hooked his foot behind Draven's ankle.

THUMP.

The prince hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. His sword clattered away from his grip.

Before he could move, Jax's blade was at his throat.

Silence.

"You see what happened there?" Jax asked, his voice calm. "You put everything into that swing. All your strength. All your 'raw power.' And I used your own momentum to put you on your ass."

He pressed the blade slightly closer.

"That's what balance and weight distribution can do. Your power became your weakness. You committed too hard. Couldn't adjust. You were a bull charging at a matador."

He stepped back and sheathed his sword.

"Strong? Sure. But predictable. And in a real fight, predictable means dead."

He turned to face the class.

"Anyone else want to tell me fundamentals don't matter? Anyone else think they can 'shatter my balance with a single blow'?"

Dead silence.

Not a single student moved.

"Good." He cracked his neck. "Now shut your mouths, open your ears, and maybe you'll learn something. But if any of you come at me with that same arrogant bullshit, I'll use you as a demonstration dummy. Trust me—I'll shove this sword so far up your ass you'll be tasting steel for a month."

He walked back to the front of the room, leaving Draven on the floor.

The prince slowly got to his feet, his face burning with humiliation. His sister Seraphina watched him with a mixture of pity and amusement.

Jax sat on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms.

Then the notification appeared.

[QUEST COMPLETE: HUMILIATE A STUDENT]

[Target: Draven Drakenveil - HUMILIATED]

[REWARD: Resolve +5]

[RES (Resolve): 29/ 50] +5

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