Later that evening, Otter knocked on Cal’s door.

  “One second,” he called from the other side. A moment later, the door swung open, revealing the disheveled RA. “Yeah, mate?”

  “Uh…evening Cal.”

  Cal just stared at him.

  “I was wondering. Is there a student directory or anything like that?”

  Cal blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “Like a book or something that tells you where other students are staying?”

  “Oh. Um. Yeah. There’s supposed to be one in the lounge. I might have one in here, too. Want me to look?”

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll check the lounge first. Thanks.”

  Cal nodded and closed the door.

  It didn’t take long for Otter to find what he was looking for: Liora’s room number.

  Liora was one of the more enigmatic members of their friend group. Cool, confident, and more than a little intimidating, she had a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue. But she was also a damn good fighter. If anyone could help him figure out how to make up for his lack of raw strength, it was her.

  He just had to convince her to help.

  The commons were mostly empty as Otter crossed the open lawn, the crisp night air hinting at colder weather in the near future. The lanterns along the stone pathways flickered in the breeze, casting long shadows over the manicured grass. If he wanted to survive at this Academy, he needed to get better—fast. His ribs still ached, but the pain had dulled to something manageable. A reminder that he was still fighting to be here.

  Liora’s dorm wasn’t far. If he—

  A figure stepped into his path.

  Otter stopped short.

  Lyle.

  Torrin emerged a second later, cutting off his escape from behind.

  Otter’s pulse spiked, but he kept his expression neutral. He hadn’t had any run-ins with Lyle or Torrin since his first week at the Academy, but he hadn’t forgotten them.

  And clearly, they hadn’t forgotten him either.

  Lyle took a slow step forward, his ever-present smirk in place. “Out for a late-night stroll, Bennett?”

  Otter forced himself to stay calm. “Something like that.”

  Torrin cracked his knuckles. “See, that’s funny,” he said, voice low and casual. “Because we were just talking about you.”

  Otter sighed. “I’m flattered, really.”

  Lyle chuckled, shaking his head. “You should be. Not every classless nobody gets our attention.” His smirk widened. “But here’s the thing—we’re tired of watching you pretend like you belong here.”

  Otter clenched his fists. “I do belong here.”

  Torrin snorted. “That so? Because from where we’re standing, you’re nothing but dead weight.”

  Lyle folded his arms. “Look, Bennett. We’re doing you a favor. You leave now, save yourself the embarrassment, and no one gets hurt.”

  Otter lifted his chin. “And if I don’t?”

  Lyle’s grin sharpened. “Then we make sure you regret it.”

  Otter swallowed hard. His mind worked quickly, calculating his options. He could try to run, but Torrin was faster. He could try to fight, but his ribs were still healing, and Lyle was a dirty fighter.

  A faint buzz rang in his ears. His wrisplay flickered.

  Luck’s Whisper: Active.

  A loud crack split the night. All three of them flinched.

  One of the lanterns lining the commons sparked, then flared. There was another loud pop and the lantern exploded, sending down a torrent of blue sparks—right between Otter and Lyle.

  Lyle leapt back with a curse.

  Torrin stumbled, nearly losing his balance. “What the hell—?”

  Otter didn’t wait.

  He turned and bolted, dodging past the fallen lantern and sprinting toward Liora’s dorm.

  “Bennett, you little—!” Lyle’s shout rang out behind him, but Otter was already gone.

  He didn’t slow until he reached the steps of the dormitory, heart pounding. Otter let out a shaky breath, half a laugh. He didn’t know how or why, but somehow—somehow—he had just gotten lucky. Again.

  Reaching Liora’s room, Otter hesitated for a split second before knocking twice.

  There was a pause. Then a muffled, “Who is it?”

  “It’s Otter.”

  Another pause. Then, “What do you want, pipsqueak?”

  Otter swallowed. “To talk?”

  A sigh. The sound of shuffling. Then, the door cracked open, and Liora peered at him through the gap, her golden eyes glinting under the dim hallway lanterns.

  “It’s late. Talk fast.”

  “If it’s not a good time, I can come back later.”

  Liora studied him for a long moment, then fully opened the door, arms crossed. She was wearing a loose nightgown, her uniform jacket draped over the back of a chair.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I’m listening.”

  Otter took a breath. “I need help with Combat Basics. Specifically, I need help with not getting my ribs caved in every time I pick up a sword.”

  A smirk tugged at the corner of Liora’s lips. “Well, yeah. You’re fighting like a Fighter when you’re not a Fighter.”

  Otter groaned. “I know. That’s why I came to you. I need a different approach. Something faster, more precise. Less about brute force and more about—I don’t know—not dying.”

  Liora tapped a finger against her chin, considering. “You’re talking about dueling techniques. That’s not what they’re teaching you in Combat Basics.”

  “I don’t care. The way they teach isn’t working for me. I need to figure out what does.”

  Liora exhaled through her nose. “Alright. Meet me in the training yard tomorrow before work detail. 6:00.”

  Otter blinked. “Wait—just like that?”

  “You want to train, I’ll train you. But I’m not going easy on you.”

  Otter grinned. “I’d be insulted if you did.”

  Liora rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Now get out. I was in the middle of something.”

  “Right, sorry,” Otter said, backing out of the doorway. “See you tomorrow.”

  As the door clicked shut behind him, he let out a slow breath. That had gone way better than expected.

  The next morning did not go so well.

  Otter’s alarm went off at five. He snoozed it twice before clawing his way out of bed, threw his old clothes on, and ran out the door.

  By the time he reached the training yard, his breath was coming in short, misty puffs in the early morning chill. He scanned the open space for Liora, but the yard was empty. The Academy’s enchanted lanterns were dimmed this early, and the shadows stretched long across the ground.

  Was she already here? Or had he just beaten her to it?

  Otter took a few steps into the yard, rubbing his arms to warm himself up. He still wasn’t entirely sure what he’d gotten himself into. Training outside of class? With Liora? She was a monster. The thought was almost laughable. But after getting his ribs broken by Jasper, he needed a new approach. A smarter one.

  Moving toward the weapons rack, Otter let his fingers trail over the hilts and grips of the various practice swords. He’d spent weeks swinging a standard longsword in Horvan’s class, but it always felt wrong in his hands—too heavy, too slow, like trying to fight with a metal club rather than a blade. He wasn’t strong enough to use it effectively, and trying to keep up with the others had only proven that.

  If he couldn't match their strength, he had to rely on something else.

  Speed.

  His gaze landed on a rapier. Slender, elegant, with a protective swept hilt. It was noticeably lighter than the longsword, and when he picked it up, it felt… right.

  He adjusted his grip, testing the balance. The weight was concentrated near the hilt, allowing for quick, precise movements. Not meant for hacking and slashing like the heavier weapons—this was a weapon of finesse. Of control.

  He took a few experimental steps, shifting his stance into something that felt more natural—less brute force, more precision. Already, this was better.

  "You don’t strike me as the dueling type."

  Otter nearly dropped the rapier as Liora emerged from the shadows near the edge of the yard, arms crossed. She was already dressed for training.

  "How long have you been standing there?" he asked, trying to slow his racing heart.

  Liora smirked. "Long enough." Her golden eyes flicked to the practice weapon in his hand. "So, why that one?"

  Otter looked down at the rapier, rolling his wrist experimentally. "Because swinging around a giant board isn’t working for me. I need something faster. More precise. I can’t win with brute strength, so I have to win another way."

  Liora nodded approvingly. "Good answer." She walked past him, picking up a two handed-sword from the rack. "Alright, Bennett. Let's see what you can do."

  Otter swallowed hard. This is gonna hurt.

  And then she lunged.

  Otter jumped backward and brought the rapier tip up into the parry position. While most of the practice swords were wooden, the rapier was metal with a blunted tip, giving it enough strength to fend off the attacking blade.

  “Good!” Liora bellowed. “The lessons you learned sank in.”

  Otter's heart raced as he settled into a defensive stance, adrenaline surging through him. “I just wish I could say the same about my instincts!” he replied, narrowly dodging another swing from Liora's massive sword.

  “Instincts are just fancy reactions. You have to train them!” she shot back, her voice sharp but laced with amusement. She stepped forward, her weapon a blur of motion, forcing Otter to shift his footing and concentrate on her rhythm. The clashing sounds echoed in the yard as he blocked another strike, the impact jarring his arms.

  “Easier said than done!” he grunted, pivoting to create distance. Just then, Liora feigned a downward strike before pivoting low and sweeping at his legs.

  Otter barely sidestepped in time. He stumbled but managed to stay upright. "Whoa! That was sneaky!"

  Eventually, she ceased the onslaught and stepped back.

  Otter didn’t drop his guard.

  Liora nodded at him, not even breathing heavily. “How does your arm feel?”

  He considered for a second. It wasn’t burning and didn’t feel weak like it had with the long sword. “Fine. I think I could keep this up for a while.”

  “Good. Practicing with the heavier weapon is working,” she said.

  “Wait. What?”

  She smiled. “In class, we use those weapons to build strength. Not everyone will use a long sword when adventuring. If you had started with the rapier, you’d probably be having the same problem. But since you’re practicing with a heavier weapon, a lighter one is easier. At least at this point.

  “Here’s my advice. Come down here every morning and run drills with the heavier sword. Everything they’ve taught so far. During lessons, when you feel yourself start to tire, ask if you can switch weapons. Then keep going. The instructors will appreciate you knowing your limits. Even more so using your brain to keep going safely instead of quitting.”

  Otter thought that was a great idea. “I should have thought of that.”

  Liora smiled again. “Eh, I’m more than just a pretty face.”

  ***

  When Otter returned to his dorm he found a note pinned to his door. It read: Go home rat. You don’t belong here.

  He already knew who it was from.

  Lyle and Torrin had made their feelings perfectly clear earlier that evening. They’d promised to make his life miserable unless he quit. Unless he walked away from the path he’d chosen.

  His fingers curled around the parchment. He could almost hear Lyle’s smug laughter, see the sneer on Torrin’s face as they’d cornered him in the commons. The threat wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t even creative. But it was a reminder—one he didn’t need—that there were people at this Academy who would never see him as anything but a classless nobody.

  For a brief moment, doubt clawed at the edges of his mind.

  What if they were right?

  What if he really didn’t belong?

  He was struggling just to keep up. He had no guaranteed future. No Class to advance. The System itself had turned its back on him. And every time he started to believe he might actually carve out a place here, something like this yanked him back down.

  Otter exhaled slowly, then, with deliberate intent, crushed the note in his fist.

  No.

  He wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t giving up.

  Lyle and Torrin thought they could scare him off? Thought a few threats and a piece of parchment would be enough to break him?

  They had no idea who they were dealing with.

  Otter stepped into his room, tossed the crumpled note into the waste bin, and locked the door behind him.

  He had training in the morning. He had a father to find. He had secrets to discover.

  And if Lyle and Torrin wanted to waste their time trying to break him, they were in for a disappointment.