Rise Of The Lesser-Blood

Thomas was officially discharged from the medical ward later that afternoon and went straight up to the sky sector.

The heavy internal injuries he had sustained from President Cedric’s ruthless backhand were still humming with a dull, throbbing heat beneath his uniform, but his rewired respiratory pathways and structural bone nodes were locked down, maintaining their integrity. He didn’t show a single ounce of physical weakness on his face as he navigated the long, sweeping stone corridors of the upper spires. He kept his stride measured, level, and entirely deliberate.

When he reached the iron thresholds, the heavy doors slid open with a soft, mechanical groan. Inside, he found his teammates gathered around the central lounging area, just chilling. The entire atmosphere of the private lounge was surprisingly relaxed compared to the absolute chaos that had shattered the Arena just twenty-four hours prior.

The minute his boots crunched against the wet grit of the entrance perimeter, the room fell quiet. Every single one of his new cohort teammates turned their heads to look at him, their sharp gazes locking onto him with varied expressions. Bron the Scarred Knight paused his sharpening tools, Edward the Drunken Fist lowered his leather flask, and Sabrina leaned forward. The only person who completely ignored his arrival was Cecilia, who remained entirely still in her high-backed leather chair near the central hearth, her pale features buried deep behind the heavy pages of her book.

Before Thomas could even force his arms down to his sides, a sudden, blinding flash of golden light and fluttering starlight dust streaked straight across the lounge floor.

Sabrina, the Blood Fairy, violently blurred out of her seat and reappeared directly in front of him. With an incredibly swift, agile leap, she threw her small arms completely around his neck, bounding him in a tight, overwhelming hug that carried an immense amount of physical force. Thomas let out a sharp, muffled wince as his newly repaired ribs compressed painfully under her grip, his jaw tightening .

”Bear with me,” Sabrina murmured with an intense, mischievous grin, tightening her small fingers around his collar and refusing to let go for a single second.

Thomas stood perfectly rigid inside her binding hold, his dark eyes remaining wide open as he looked straight ahead over her messy blond hair. He stayed entirely silent about his talent, keeping his mouth shut as he endured the pressure. ”Yeah, okay, no problem,” Thomas said flatly. ”I will just be right here suffocating to death.”

Sabrina burst out in a loud, clear laughter at his dry delivery, the sound echoing off the stone pillars. She finally let go of his neck, dropping lightly back onto her feet before playfully planting a quick, soft kiss right on his cheek. ”You are pretty funny, suicidal idiot,” she cheered, stepping two paces back while her glass-like wings fluttered with a soft starlight dust.

Thomas wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, his expression returning to its smooth, unreadable calm. ”What do you mean by suicidal, Senior?”

”Well, ever since you entered this academy, it is as if you have an absolute death wish,” she laughed, crossing her arms. ”First you insult a High-blood openly, then you beat down most of them on a national stage, and then you openly tell the President of the Council to fuck off on the open sand. If that isn’t suicidal, I don’t know what is.”

Thomas looked across the vast room to gauge the reactions of the rest of the cohort. Bron offered a quiet, solemn nod of approval from his bench, his ebony eyes carrying a deep respect for the sheer grit it took to stand face-to-face with a council lord. Edward simply shook his head in absolute amusement, a wide smirk breaking across his rugged face as he tilted his head back to drink his wine.

Julian let out a cold, irritated scoff from his corner of the lounge. He stood up from his ornate chair, adjusting his silver-rimmed glasses with absolute, cold indifference as he prepared to leave the room entirely, his face a bare, vacant mask that refused to acknowledge Thomas.

But his exit was abruptly stopped when the heavy iron doors of the citadel entrance ground open once more, admitting two individuals whose presence instantly caused the ambient temperature in the room to drop.

The first was a young woman with a beautiful round face, striking dark eyes, and raven hair styled in a sharp, clean bob. She wasn’t wearing an academy uniform; instead, she wore a tight-fitting full body suit that put her incredible curves and well-toned, athletic physique in full view. Every single line of her frame radiated a quiet, lethal confidence that immediately commanded the room. Edward let out a loud, appreciative whistle of approval from his bench, leaning back with a grin.

”Oh, it is always a beautiful sight when Instructor Voss walks into the room,” Edward said, his voice carrying a playful melody.

The man walking right beside her let out a harsh, venomous sneer, his dark eyes locking onto the monk with absolute malice. ”Shut up if you want to keep your tongue, brat,” the man growled, his deep voice making the oak tables faintly vibrate.

The speaker was an absolute mountain of a man, standing roughly seven feet tall with a lean, compact build that carried a terrifying presence. He had a completely bald head, a deep, jagged scar that ran over his forehead, and matching dark eyes that looked down at the cohort as if they were nothing but insects. This was Instructor Harold, a legendary combat veteran.

Cecilia finally spoke up from her high-backed chair, her voice dropping into that quiet, lazy drawl that Thomas knew all too well. ”Greetings, instructors,” she murmured carelessly, her ebony eyes never leaving the pages of her book. ”These two are your newest toys. Try not to break them too quickly.” She pointed a single finger toward Thomas and Julian without looking up.

Harold smiled, a cruel, jagged smirk breaking across his scarred features as he pointed his thick finger directly at Julian. ”Another one from House Carter, aye? How tough are you, kid?”

Julian frowned deeply, his bare ebony eyes looking the seven-foot man up and down with supreme, absolute defiance. ”Want to find out, old man?” Julian spat coldl.

The giant’s smile deepened into a terrifying mask, and in a fraction of a second, a dense wave of raw mana violently filled the entire room. The spiritual pressure was highly concentrated, targeting Julian alone, and it was heavily infused with a deep, bone-chilling bloodlust that made the stone floorboards hum. The sheer mass of the veteran’s aura felt like a falling mountain. Julian immediately released his own crimson mana to resist the gravity well, his teeth grinding together as his legs shook, but he appeared to be visibly struggling under the crushing weight of the veteran’s malice.

Instructor Voss placed a manicured hand flat against Harold’s massive shoulder, her dark eyes flashing with a sharp, calculating focus. ”Quit it, Hal. You are scaring the kids.”

Harold frowned, grunting as his bald head tightened, but he still smoothly released his mana pressure, leaving Julian visibly out of breath as the suffocating weight dropped from the room. Julian adjusted his glasses, his face completely pale as he pulled his energy back into his core.

Voss turned her gaze squarely onto Thomas, her dark eyes measuring his silver-trimmed jacket and his smooth, unblinking mask. ”You, suicidal lesser,” she said, a faint smirk playing on her beautiful round face. ”I am your personal instructor from now on. Let’s try to get along.”

Thomas quietly nodded his head, his dark eyes wide open. He didn’t offer a theatrical display of respect.

”Since you missed your homeroom instructor’s speech about the new rules while you were resting in the infirmary,” Voss said, turning on her heel toward the exit corridor with a fluid grace, ”come with me.”

Thomas didn’t hesitate. He steeled his jaw against the lingering dull ache in his ribs, keeping his stride measured and level as he stepped into line behind her.