(Author's Note: So from now on, I'll start using symbols in sentences when Bloodshine talks. Makes it easier for you guys to read and remember about her curse.)

....

Pencil explained that while respect was generally given to one's senior, strength was the true deciding factor.

And in this place there were easy ways to show it.

One of them was in shedding the title of Clown.

When cadets resumed the academy for the very first time, they all did so in their academy white.

However, this naturally earned them the title of Clown.

As a clown, there were restrictions. For example, sitting positions in the cafeteria and, in extreme cases, who was considered first in a life-or-death situation.

Strength and the pursuit of it determined the kind of life you'll have in the academy.

There was only one way to shed off the title of Clown and be allowed to wear the black academy tunic, and that was through winning a Gauntlet Battle against your superior.

"Against a senior student!?" Soren asked again. Just to be sure of what he heard.

Pencil nodded.

Which brought him to the rules guiding Gauntlet battles.

Firstly, someone that had earned their black tunic could not challenge a Clown.

That was frowned upon and seen as weak.

However, a clown could challenge a black tunic to a Gauntlet battle.

It was up to the challenged to accept or not. But generally, if the clown was promising in combat and the senior cadet refused, then the senior cadet was looked down on.

Nevertheless, cadets of the same training year were allowed to challenge one another for a Gauntlet battle.

This happened a lot.

They were very rare special cases that allowed a senior cadet to challenge a junior, but it was greatly frowned upon and could cause irreparable damage to one's reputation or even lead to the loss of sponsors.

No one wanted that. But if a person really wanted to get attention on themselves, then it was to win against an immediate senior.

A thought suddenly popped in Soren's head.

"But if I remember correctly, the academy did not admit any students last year. They shouldn't be any second-year seniors."

Pencil nodded. "On the contrary, they are. Not all the seniors passed the promotional exam to become third years."

Soren nodded in understanding.

Pencil explained further that even amongst the third-year seniors, there were those that had not earned the black tunic.

And then Soren turned Bloodshine. He looked at her with a certain glow in his eyes.

She was in a black tunic, while Pencil was still in cadet white.

Because Cynthia still needed a bit of time to heal, it took them an additional week of waiting in the prison.

Roughly three to four weeks since the train event, and she was already in a black tunic.

Soren reminded himself that Bloodshine was a D-rank Soulbound warrior.

And her power was not a violent one but simply dealt in hallucinations.

And yet, she had earned herself the right to wear a black tunic.

More and more, his instinct told him that it was a good idea to keep this mysterious girl close.

At such a time, Chronovore's hunger stirred.

Soren's head quickly turned a certain direction.

At a distance from him, a certain individual with silver hair at the shoulder level stared at him.

This person looked skinny—sickly in a way.

Their eyes gave a low white glow. And they muttered something under their breath.

"Move out of the way, clowns."

Blackfield kicked in, and Soren instinctively dodged the shoulder jab from a passing senior cadet.

Soren's move surprised the senior cadet. "Watch where you're standing, Clown." He snorted and then walked away.

Soren did not mind him. However, when he looked back at the direction of the silver-haired person, they were gone.

"Soren." Pencil called for him. "Are you seeing this?"

Soren's attention was pulled back to the arena.

Stone tiers rose in concentric rings around a central platform.

A translucent barrier shimmered over the combat zone below, faintly crackling with aether.

This way, the battle would not reach those watching.

On the projected screen above, a faint blue badge hovered close to her name.

Rhea: C-Rank.

Second-year cadet.

Tommy: B-rank

First-year cadet.

Bloodshine whistled low. "Oh, he's nøt screwed."

Pencil folded his arms. "Not necessarily. Giving up is still allowed in Gauntlet matches." He paused.

"But so is death."

Soren stiffened. "Wait—what?"

Pencil didn't look at him. "Well... I heard that cadets die more often than the authorities like to admit. Officially, it's tagged 'training accidents.' But unofficially…"

He shrugged.

"Some matches just go too far. At least they have a choice compared to the Shade Stealer."

"Shade Stealer!?" Soren asked.

"Its nøt an urban myth in school." Bloodshine added. "They have nøt been rampant in school lately."

Down below, the barrier was sealed.

A mechanical voice boomed across the arena.

"Gauntlet Match: Cadet Tommy versus Cadet Rhea. The match begins."

The girl—Rhea—twirled her staff once and tapped it against the stone floor.

The sound rang out sharp and metallic.

Then her skin shimmered.

In a breath, her arms, shoulders, and legs took on a dull steel sheen, muscles hardening into something closer to armor than flesh. Even the soles of her boots darkened and gleamed.

Soren's eyes widened. "She turned into metal."

"I heard it's called. Partial metallization," Pencil muttered. "Anything she touches can become metallic too. Including her staff and even the ground."

Tommy took three quick steps backward.

Purple light bled out from his chest and hands, thin threads of soul energy wrapping around his fingers like glowing wire.

"Unravel."

Rhea didn't rush him. She paced sideways, boots clinking softly with every step, testing angles.

"To think a stupid commoner clown like you would challenge me." She cursed. But her eyes never left him.

Tommy smirked. "It's not my fault you are weak."

His gaze kept flicking between her feet and the arena markings.

He muttered under his breath, counting.

"…fifty-eight… fifty-nine… sixty…"

She lunged.

The staff slammed into the ground where he'd been standing a second earlier, and the stone rippled outward like water. The impact zone turned metallic on contact, the floor hardening into jagged steel spikes that shot upward.

Tommy barely dodged, rolling to the side as one spike grazed his sleeve.

He flung his hand out.

A purple thread lashed toward her chest—

—and fizzled out midair, dispersing like smoke.

Too far.

"Sixty-two," he hissed.

Rhea smirked and charged again, boots pounding, every step leaving a metallic footprint behind her. She swung low, then high, forcing him to retreat in a crooked arc.

Tommy kept backing up, eyes darting, constantly measuring.

"…sixty-one… sixty… fifty-nine…"

He fired again.

The thread struck her shoulder.

For a split second, her metallic skin warped, rippling like soft wax—

—but she growled and hardened it again, shattering the unraveling effect.

She closed the distance.

Too close.

Tommy yelped and threw himself backward as her staff smashed down where his head had been. The ground erupted into a fan of steel shards.

Many in the crowd booed, calling Tommy a coward. But Soren's eyes gleamed in realization. But he was not the only one. When he looked to his side, he could tell that she also understood it.

Tommy scrambled up, heart hammering, purple energy flickering erratically around his hands.

He was sweating now.

He didn't have technique.

He didn't have footwork.

All he had was range and his brain.

Rhea pressed harder, her movements fluid and aggressive, using the terrain she'd hardened to limit his escape routes. She kicked off a steel ridge, launching herself at him like a missile.

Tommy raised both hands—

—and missed.

The unraveling threads grazed her side but failed to latch on fully.

She clipped him with the staff.

He flew backward, skidding across the stone, coughing.

The crowd roared.

"Get up, clown!"

"End him, Rhea!"

Tommy rolled onto his back, staring up at the lights.

Then he squinted.

And grinned.

The arena lamps reflected perfectly off his bald head.

He snapped his hands up and angled his head just right.

A sharp flash of light bounced straight into Rhea's eyes.

She hissed and flinched, raising an arm. "What the—!"

That was all he needed.

Tommy surged forward, purple soul energy flaring bright as he dumped everything into one focused unravel.

The threads struck her torso.

This time, they didn't break.

Her metallic skin softened.

Then her uniform began to come apart at the seams.

Fabric unraveled into drifting threads.

Her top exposed lush skin hiding underneath.

And her pants tore from the waist all the way down.

Essentially, Tommy had made her naked.

Rhea screamed, dropping her staff and clutching at her clothes. "STOP—STOP— I GIVE UP!"

The barrier flared.

The mechanical voice boomed again.

"Match concluded. Winner: Cadet Tommy."

Silence fell over the arena.

Every cadet just stared.

Rhea stood in the center, red-faced, desperately holding what remained of her uniform together. Tommy stood ten meters away, breathing hard.

The next moment...

Booo...

Booo...

Booo...

The crowd booed him even more. However, Tommy?

He wore the most shameless grin Soren had ever seen.

"...worth it," Tommy muttered.

Soren, on the other hand, could not help but chuckle.

When Pencil said that Tommy was engaged in a fight, he wondered how Tommy was going to win.

After all, as commoners they had no martial arts techniques from their hometown to aid them.

However, watching the fight, it was clear that Tommy choose his opponent very well.

Firstly, he measured the limits her metallic influence could reach versus his own.

All the counting he had been doing was conscious calculations.

If Tommy had gotten too close, she would have used her superior martial arts and experience against him—quickly winning the fight.

Instead, he baited her. Ran around the place. Rhea was a noble and a senior cadet.

She already felt humiliation that Tommy challenged her, insinuating that she was weak.

Naturally, pride blinded her, making her pursue.

Meanwhile, she did not notice that he was also intentionally moving that much so that he could sweat.

When the time was right, he used his shining bald head to reflect the light into her eyes.

And then instead of hitting her, Tommy just used his ability on her clothes.

Which proud noble wanted to be naked in front of tens of students?

Basically, he had used his weakness, environment as well as her own pride against her.

This was a Genius at work.

Soren suddenly frowned. It was not over.

"Cynthia..." he muttered.

She moved.

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