Elara moved through the forest with grace. Twenty-five students followed her – not the tenth Ronan originally suggested, but closer to a quarter of Class B’s remaining strength.

It felt like a lot.

It also felt like nowhere near enough when thinking about invading another class entirely.

She glanced back at the group.

They moved quietly, weapons ready, expressions tight with focus.

Ronan hadn’t come. That still bothered her.

He’d shrugged when she asked, said something about holding them back because he wasn’t as powerful as the rest of them.

She couldn’t disagree with that – Ronan’s combat ability was pathetic compared to most of the class – but she’d still felt uncomfortable watching him stay behind at the base and not here on the frontlines.

Since when do I feel uncomfortable without him?

That realization made her even more uncomfortable. She didn’t want to think about it.

She shoved the thought aside and focused on the terrain.

The ground became firmer, less cluttered with roots. A small pond appeared through the gaps in the foliage.

Elara raised her hand, signaling the group to slow.

Class D’s camp came into view.

They looked broken.

Students sat scattered around the pond, some leaning against trees, others staring at the ground.

A few argued in low voices near the water’s edge. No formations. No patrols. No organized defense. No life.

Elara’s eyes swept the area, counting heads.

Fifty? Maybe less.

That was nowhere near the full class. In fact, it looked like only three-quarters of them remained.

Some must have stayed with Class C when the alliance split.

The thought occurred to her naturally, logically. Then she paused.

Did Ronan predict this?

She frowned.

No. That’s not logical. There’s no way he could have known.

But the doubt lingered anyway, digging into the back of her mind like a splinter she couldn’t quite reach.

A shout interrupted her thoughts.

One of the Class D students had spotted them. He scrambled to his feet, pointing toward the treeline.

"We’ve got company!"

Elara didn’t hesitate.

"Move in!"

Class B surged forward. The element of surprise had vanished, but it didn’t matter. Class D was too disorganized to mount a real defense.

Students yelled for reinforcements.

Others screamed for help.

A few tried to rally into formations, but the effort collapsed almost immediately as Class B slammed through their scattered defenses.

Elara launched a concentrated mana blast toward a cluster of Class D students attempting to block their advance.

They scattered.

One tried to counter with a wind spell, but Mira intercepted it with a barrier.

This is easy.

Too easy.

Elara expected resistance – real resistance – but Class D folded like wet paper.

Some students fought back, sure, but their attacks were half-hearted, desperate.

Others didn’t even try.

They just backed away, hands raised.

A few fled entirely, sprinting south into the forest without looking back.

Elara captured two students with binding runes, then moved deeper into the camp.

Around her, Class B overwhelmed the remaining defenders with efficiency that surprised even her.

Within minutes, the area belonged to them.

Then, through the chaos, a voice cut through.

"Enough."

Elara turned.

A tall student with short dark hair and a tired expression stood near the pond, hands raised above his head.

His posture was calm despite the surrender, his gaze steady.

The Class D leader.

Elara signaled Class B to hold. They stopped mid-advance, weapons still raised but no longer attacking, just ready.

The leader – she thought his name was Garren – stepped forward slowly, deliberately. He didn’t flinch when three Class B students surrounded him.

"We didn’t have much of a chance after the split," he said evenly. "I expected something like this to happen."

Elara studied him, searching for tricks or hidden intent. She found none.

"Where’s your minor mana node?" she asked.

Garren reached into his coat without hesitation and pulled out two crystalline nodes.

Both were glowing faintly with residual mana.

He held them out toward her.

"Both of them."

Elara blinked.

Both?

She stepped forward and took the nodes, feeling their weight settle into her palms.

Garren lowered his hands but didn’t move otherwise.

"We’re done," he said quietly. "The alliance is over. Class C kept the statue. We got nothing. Half the class already left to try their luck solo." He gestured vaguely at the scattered students around them. "The rest of us stayed because we didn’t know where else to go. I just have one request..."

"A request?"

"Do you think you’re in the place to be making requests?"

Elara put her hand up.

"What is it?"

"Just don’t destroy the main node. At the very least, allow class D to remain in this war for a little longer."

"I’m assuming you have hidden it somewhere anyway, correct?"

"That’s correct."

"Then we won’t waste time prying that information out of you."

Elara turned, and class B followed, though some voiced their complaints.

She tightened her grip on the nodes.

Another victory.

But it didn’t feel like victory.

It felt like the C/D alliance they’d intercepted earlier. Cheap.

What would Ronan think about this victory? She had a feeling he would agree with that she was thinking.

She’d ask him when they got back.

Smoke everywhere.

Elara saw it before she reached the base – wrong color, wrong smell, wrong everything.

Her breath hitched. .

"Move!"

Class B sprinted forward, weapons drawn before they cleared the treeline. The river base came into view.

Everything burned.

Tents collapsed under flame.

Defensive stakes scattered.

Students fought desperately against a tide of Class A attackers pressing through broken perimeter runes.

Sapphire’s careful work.

No.

Elara’s chest tightened. They’d left the base defended. They’d trusted the alliance.

Her eyes swept the chaos, searching for—

"Ronan!"

She found him near the collapsed supply tent, blood streaking his jaw, clothes scorched.

He held a captured student by the collar, fire flickering across his knuckles.

Elara reached him in seconds. "What the hell happened?"

Ronan turned. His expression stopped her cold.

Cold. Focused.

"Class A attacked."