"Who missed me?"

Kenshin’s grin stretched wide as he locked two boys in a headlock—one under each arm, their protests muffled against his sides.

"You’ve been asking that for the past two weeks," Dean sighed, exasperated.

Since the break began, Kenshin had made it his mission to torment anyone he could find.

"They’ve had two months without us," Kenshin insisted, tightening his grip. The boys squirmed. "They miss us. They just won’t admit it."

For Dean, the first two days had been fun. Then it got boring. Every time he made progress with his flirting—found the right angle, the right line, the right smile—Kenshin would appear. Drag him away. Find some unlucky soul willing to engage in combat.

The professor had warned them about causing too much mayhem. Kenshin had interpreted this as a challenge: find a reason. Any reason.

He was not successful.

However much he riled students up, fewer and fewer took the bait. He had resorted to bullying the strongest he could find, and even that grew tedious. When he sensed a fight would bore him, he turned to his classmates. Challenged them. Demanded they spar.

They always refused. They had better things to do.

Today, his frustration had boiled over into a tantrum. Unfortunately for his classmates, it got them chased out of the library—loud, undignified, and banned for the rest of the week.

Fortunately for Kenshin, it meant he had them for the whole day.

They refused to fight him even more vehemently now. Revenge for the library incident. He did not care. He herded them to the dining hall instead.

They sat together at a long table near the center of the room. Kenshin extended his "eagle eyes," scanning for any unlucky student who might fall for the trap he had laid.

Twenty minutes into their vigil, someone did.

All he had to do was nudge it in the right direction.

He bribed Rhaegar. A small favor. A mental push. Make the weakling lose his inhibitions.

It was not difficult. The student was a pervert—loud about the girls, crass, dismissive. And speaking badly about Nyssara, specifically, had the useful side effect of annoying Rhaegar personally.

Rhaegar agreed only after Kenshin promised to stay out of trouble for the rest of the month.

Kenshin agreed easily. What he was about to cause would eclipse any trouble he could get from ordinary students in two weeks anyway. The student body had grown too weary of fighting. It was boring. Reading was worse. And the professor had said he would return in two weeks, and this was the second week. A win-win situation.

Rhaegar brought Kenshin’s plan to life: a mental suggestion here, a loosened inhibition there.

The student began speaking loudly about what he would otherwise have whispered to his friends. He gestured toward the girls—crude, graphic, deliberate. The more he spoke, the more he loosened up. His friends tried to stop him.

Kenshin caught wind of it. He looked at Rhaegar.

Sighing, Rhaegar moved to another member of the group—equally perverted, equally suggestible—and nudged him as well.

But that did not satisfy Kenshin.

By now, the girls had noticed. The obscene conversations were not concealed. They were not intended to be.

Virelle was agitated. She wanted to pummel the bastards. The other girls held her back.

Kenshin gave Rhaegar another signal.

Rhaegar removed what remained of the group’s rationality. Controlled one of them to make a suggestion:

Go talk to the girls. What can they do against nobles? They’re strong. The boys in that class won’t intervene—the girls will agree to follow you. You’re handsome. You’re rich. They’re sluts waiting to be used. What better purpose could they serve?

The students, stripped of inhibition and reason, agreed immediately.

The moment they rose from their table, a pressure slammed down on them. Heavy. Absolute.

Seraphin had had enough. [Pressure Sovereign]—she pressed them into the floor.

But even angry, she could not hold seven people at her rank simultaneously. She released them.

Virelle rushed in with three clones. Nyssara appeared before the students in the same instant.

Kenshin’s grin widened. Still not enough. He looked at Rhaegar.

Rhaegar was already shaking his head.

Kenshin smiled wider.

’Chaos reduces people’s mental defenses’, he projected. ’They’re more susceptible. It’ll be easier.’

’Easier to what?’ Rhaegar asked, already knowing the answer.

’To rile them up. Get them to join the fight. They all have grievances against us—most of them thought the same things those idiots said out loud. They were just rational enough to keep quiet. Scared enough to hold their tongues.’

’You know’ Rhaegar’s mental voice was dry, ’I’m the one with the mind manipulation ability. But you’re the manipulator.’

’It’s just a little nudging. You saw it too. I’m giving you justification to beat them up. And it’ll be fun.’

Rhaegar sighed in defeat.

’Cover me.’

He activated his ability on a larger scale than he had all day. The drain on his mana pool was immediate.

Kenshin shot him a grin of reassurance.

The effect rippled outward. A student—noble, by his posture—stood up in protest.

"Are we going to let these commoners bully us in our sacred academy?"

His voice carried. The remaining nobles stirred. Their stares riled the commoners—those who had no standing to challenge nobles, who had grievances of their own, who had only lacked the courage to voice them.

The entire dining room turned against the class of weirdos.

Sam looked at Kenshin. Shook his head.

Kenshin offered a sheepish smile.

"It seems we have to protect the girls."

Sam sighed and stood. The rest of the class rose with him.

Kenshin grinned. "Aiiya. Can’t miss out, can I?"

He created a clone—[Divergent Avatar]—and set it to watch over Rhaegar. Then he joined the chaos.

---

The dining room was a ruin.

Beaten figures lay scattered across the floor, groaning, unconscious, or wisely pretending to be both. The class of weirdos stood together at the center of the destruction, breathing hard, mostly unscathed.

Kenshin had two students in a headlock. He was cheering.

"Are you satisfied?" Sam’s voice was flat.

There was no logical reason for an entire room of students to behave the way they had—not without external influence. Sam had a classmate with psychic abilities. When he looked at Rhaegar, he saw him shaking his head as he stared at a grinning Kenshin.

It did not take long to put two and two together.

He could have stopped it. But Rhaegar had shared the conversation, and Sam had noticed the students’ disdain. Their fear. Their barely concealed contempt. He let it slide.

Still. Kenshin could not be allowed to do this whenever he was bored.

"Hehe."

Kenshin dropped the students he was holding. His smile was sheepish.

Dean stared at the two unconscious figures. Then at Kenshin. Then at Rhaegar, standing by the clone. His face lit up.

"You—you—you bloody genius." He grabbed Kenshin by the shoulders and shook him. "Son of a bitch."

Kenshin’s grin widened.

Sam shook his head.

"What’s happening with them?" Virelle asked, sneering.

Sam looked at her. At the class. At Kenshin.

Kenshin’s eyes widened. Dread flickered across his face. He tried to stop Sam.

"Kenshin planned this," Sam said. Nonchalant.

"YOU BETRAYER!"

The girls turned. Their faces were not pleased.

Kenshin spun and tried to run. Nyssara appeared in front of him, blocking his escape. He struggled. It did not matter. The girls reached him.

The scolding that followed is not suitable for children.

---

"They were asking for it," Kenshin said later, shrugging as he offered something vaguely resembling an apology. "I just sped it up. And you can’t lie—it was fun."

"Is that even an apology, you bastard?" Virelle sneered.

"What do we have here?"

The voice drifted from above. The class turned.

At the top floor of the dining room—a level Dean had not noticed until this moment—three figures stood at the railing.

"There’s another floor?" Dean asked.

"Yes," the silver-haired boy called down. His voice was cheerful. "It’s for S-classes. The floor above where we were is for kings."

He was sharp-featured, pale-skinned, with narrow eyes behind thin round glasses. His silver hair was tied into a low bun. A sleek black kimono-inspired coat layered over a shirt and tie, cinched neatly at the waist, with a katana at his side.

"Two floors?" Dean muttered. "I bet their food tastes better than this floor’s."

The class stared at him.

"What? That’s how restaurants work." He shrugged.

"You mentioned kings," Sam said, ignoring his brother. "What are kings?"

"The title ’king’ is given to the three strongest first-year students of the academy," said another figure—a sharp-featured, stoic young man with tousled blond hair and a calm, focused gaze. He stepped forward, one gloved hand resting on the hilt of a sheathed katana at his side. A dark layered kimono and hakama beneath a white haori adorned with gold geometric patterns. "Although this year the number has increased."

"And you are kings?" Aelric asked.

"Yes," the blond answered. Easy confidence.

Beside him stood a girl with a sharp, elegant face framed by long, flowing cobalt-blue hair. Dark lips curved into a playful smile. A crisp white blouse beneath a fitted black corset, black gloves, two-tone trousers, sleek heeled boots.

"Three of the five kings, actually," she said.

"Doesn’t that mean you’re the strongest students in the academy?" Dean pouted. "Where does that place us?"

"I don’t think the class of weirdos is included in the list." The silver-haired boy’s smile turned suggestive. "But it doesn’t seem fair, does it? Why don’t we include you?"

The class exchanged glances.

Dean shrugged. He was up for a fight.

"I know you," Kenshin interrupted. "I’ve seen you before. You were four."

"Ah. You must have seen us with Elijah." The silver-haired boy—Khan, he introduced himself—tilted his head. "He’s too ashamed to walk with us now. He lost recently. Jude beat him."

"Who is Jude?" Kenshin tilted his head.

The class facepalmed.

"The boy you found the most interesting," Dean said. "You fought him alongside someone else while I fought their friend."

"Oh—the time you lost."

Dean groaned.

"He’s a king now?" Kenshin’s expression didn’t change. "He had more spunk than you had when I saw you before. It’s still the same. Well—other than you." He pointed at Khan. "You’ve grown stronger."

"See? I told you." Khan grinned at Eden and Kya. "I’m stronger now."

"You suggested a fight?" Kenshin continued.

"From what I see, fighting anyone other than you would be a waste of my time. There’s a reason we weren’t added to the candidates for your kingship."

Kenshin’s expression shifted. Serious. Intent. He wanted to fight this kid. The same feeling he had when he saw Jude—but stronger.

"Really?" Khan turned to Kya and Eden. "You see? I’m gaining traction." He looked back at Kenshin. "I get to fight the strongest of the class of weirdos. A Star of Destruction."

His goofy smile vanished. Lightning flickered across his body. He appeared in front of Kenshin.

Only Rhaegar and Daemion, aside from Kenshin himself, tracked the movement.

Kenshin stared at Khan, eyes bright.

"Let’s take this elsewhere."

He walked out of the dining room.

"Yosh." Khan followed.

The class followed. At the top floor, Kya and Eden exchanged glances—and followed.

---

In Nox’s office, the old man watched them leave. He sighed.

Where is that brat when you need him?

A pulse. Faint, but unmistakable. Zeke’s aura. He had returned—must have been in the Crucible.

Should I let him rest?

No. This was his fault. He could handle it.

’Zeke Vaughn. Where have you been?’

A pause.

’Suspend your activities for now. You need to see this.’

He would not want to miss it.

Nox waved his hand.

Zeke appeared in the office, summoned from his dorm room mid-stride.