Chapter 127: Ordinary Complexities (II)

During lunch, the academy’s central courtyard remained lively despite the rain. Students huddled under covered walkways and overhangs, forming groups engaged in conversations that varied from serious academic topics to silly and absurd discussions.

Near the fountain—currently flooded with rain—a group of third-years was engaged in a heated debate.

A student named Helena argued that individual combat events should be banned from the Inter-Academy competition, citing their danger and the high injury rate.

James argued, "The main goal of the competition is to test combat skills. Banning real combat undermines its purpose."

"I’m not advocating for banning all combat. I’m suggesting we ban the specific matches where students sustain serious injuries annually. Team combat benefits from safety through numbers, whereas individual matches are simply advanced dueling."

"According to that reasoning, all risky training exercises should be prohibited. For example, combat fundamentals classes are dangerous, and essence manipulation practice can lead to injuries. So, where do you draw the line?"

"I participate in organized fights where the objective is to defeat another student through direct combat. This differs from training exercises that are conducted with supervision and safety protocols."

A fourth student arrived at their group, shaking rain off his umbrella. "What are we debating?"

"Helena believes that individual combat should be prohibited from the competition."

"Oh, that argument. Again." The newcomer whose name was Robert sat on a damp bench. "You know what would really make the competition safer? Better preparation and stricter qualification standards. Most injuries happen when students who aren’t ready try to compete anyway."

"You can’t gate-keep the competition based on arbitrary skill assessments," Helena protested.

"Having minimum competency requirements isn’t gatekeeping. We already have minimum standards for various areas—such as class enrollment, essence cultivation levels, and access to restricted sections in the library. So, why not for competition participation?"

The debate persisted, swirling in intensity, as other students walked past with amused or annoyed looks. This ongoing argument had been going on for weeks without any signs of resolution.

In a different covered area, a very different scene was taking place.

A first-year student named Timothy accidentally knocked over another student’s lunch tray, causing a small mess of spilled food and some hurt feelings.

"I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!" Timothy exclaimed urgently as he hurried to help clean up, while Sarah, the other student, appeared to be fighting back tears.

"It’s okay. It’s only lunch." But her voice faltered slightly.

"It’s not okay; I accidentally ruined your food. Let me buy you a replacement lunch, please. I feel awful." Timothy looked genuinely distressed.

"You don’t have to—"

"No, I insist. I was careless and wasn’t paying attention where I was going, so you shouldn’t have to suffer because of my clumsiness". Timothy helped her gather the remains of her meal. "What were you eating? I’ll get you the same thing."

Sarah finally managed a small smile. "The vegetable stew and bread. But really, you don’t—"

"Already on it. Stay here, I’ll be right back."

Timothy hurried to the dining hall, leaving Sarah sitting, looking bemused and somewhat less upset. A friend then appeared beside her.

"Was that Timothy?"

"I think? I don’t really know him."

"He’s in my Essence Theory class. He’s supposed to be really smart but is incredibly clumsy—like, he knocked over three bookshelves in the library last month."

"That explains a lot."

Timothy came back with a replacement lunch and a few extra items. "I got you the stew and bread, and I also brought fruit and these pastries because I still feel bad, and they looked good."

"This is way too much food."

Think of it as an apology meal—I apologize for the spill. Timothy hesitated, then added, "I’m Timothy, by the way. First year, House Luminara."

"Sarah Grant. Also first year, House Verdant."

"Nice to meet you, despite the awkward circumstances of our introduction." Timothy said with a shy smile. "I promise I’m not normally this clumsy. Well, I am often like this, but I’m trying to improve."

Sarah chuckled despite herself. "It’s okay, truly. Accidents occur."

They ended up sharing lunch as Timothy’s friend group and Sarah’s merged into a larger gathering. By the end, everyone was laughing over academy mishaps and exchanging stories of terrible training accidents.

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In the academy’s medical wing, a different atmosphere prevailed.

Instructor Henrik sat in a recovery room, his arm in a proper cast and most of his other injuries bandaged. He was reviewing reports on the Thornvale expedition, comparing official academy documents with his personal memories of the events.

A knock interrupted his reading. "Come in."

Another instructor stepped in—Professor Maya Winters, who specializes in advanced combat theory. "Henrik, how are you feeling?"

Henrik set down his reports and asked, "What brings you to the medical wing?" It’s like I was thrown into a wall by a professional assassin, which is an accurate description of what happened.

"Checking on a colleague and bringing updates from the investigation," Maya said as she pulled up a chair. "The academy administration has finished their initial inquiry into the Derek situation."

"And?"

"Derek is currently in academy custody awaiting transfer to regional authorities. During interrogation, he admitted to working with external groups but denied knowing their ultimate employer, claiming everything was handled through intermediaries."

"Maya then produced a document and noted that what stood out was the evidence found in his room—letters, payment records, and meeting schedules—indicating he had been planning this for at least two months."

Henrik felt sick. "Two months. Right under our noses."

"You couldn’t have known. He was cautious and intentionally behaved unpredictably to be seen as just another aggressive student with anger problems." Maya paused briefly. "The students involved in your expedition are being offered counseling; some are accepting it, while others are declining."

"Which ones are refusing?"

"Thomas, Lin, and Roland. They’re all claiming they’re fine and don’t need help processing trauma." Maya sighed. "Classic post-incident denial. They’ll probably crash emotionally in a few weeks when the adrenaline fully wears off."

"Monitor their condition closely. Require counseling if you notice significant decline." Henrik shifted in his bed, grimacing with the movement. "What about Kai Wraith? He’s the one who confronted the assassins most directly."

"Kai is quite an intriguing case. The counselors struggle to get him to attend sessions as he consistently fails to appear. When they attempt to speak with him face-to-face, he responds minimally and then departs." Maya appeared contemplative. "However, multiple witnesses report he appeared fully in control during and after the incident, with no signs of trauma or emotional distress; he simply dealt with the situation and moved forward."

"That’s not normal."

"No, that’s not the case. Forcing counseling on students who don’t agree is legally complex, and Kai isn’t displaying any behavioral issues. He attends classes, finishes assignments, and follows normal routines. The counselors are observing him but cannot justify making intervention mandatory."

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