The corridor leading to the dorms was dimly lit, the artificial lights casting long shadows along the walls. Kyle moved at a steady pace, stretching his arm as the soreness from training settled in. His mind replayed moments from the sparring matches earlier that day—strategies, weaknesses, and areas he needed to improve.
Then he heard it.
A voice, sharp and insistent, cut through the otherwise quiet hallway.
> "Give it back."
Kyle slowed his steps.
Another voice, lower and mocking, followed.
> "Oh? And what if we don't?"
Rounding the corner, Kyle spotted them.
Vivian Marchand.
Backed against the cold metal lockers, her Silverwing Moth fluttering weakly beside her, wings dim and barely glowing. In front of her stood two second-years—older, stronger, and clearly enjoying themselves.
One of them, a Level 6 named Callen, twirled a small card between his fingers. Kyle recognized it instantly—credit chips. Small but essential, used for trading, buying supplies, and maintaining a student's standing.
The second, Gareth, a Level 7, leaned in slightly, grinning.
> "You're always so quiet, Marchand. I figured you wouldn't mind 'donating' a little to your seniors."
Vivian's eyes narrowed, her arms tense at her sides. Her usual calmness was gone. She looked genuinely cornered.
Kyle didn't hesitate.
> [System Notification]
"Detected Ongoing Conflict."
"Optional Quest Activated: Take on the Second-Years."
"Objective: Neutralize the Threat."
"Warning: Opponents Estimated Strength: High."
Kyle stepped forward.
> "That's enough."
Both second-years turned, their eyes narrowing at the interruption.
Callen scoffed. "And who the hell are you?"
Kyle's lips twitched slightly.
> "Guess I'm not as popular as I thought."
Callen flicked the credit chip in his hand. "Stay out of this, freshman."
Kyle rolled his shoulders. "Or what?"
Gareth cracked his knuckles. "You'll find out soon enough."
The air shifted.
They weren't just going to let him walk away.
Kyle clenched his fists. Two second-years. Higher level. More experience. But Kyle wasn't the same as when he first arrived at the academy.
> [System Notification]
"Initiating Combat Protocol."
"Processing Opponent Patterns… Done."
"Suggested Approach: Aggressive Counters."
They lunged.
The Fight
Callen struck first.
A sharp jab toward Kyle's chest—fast. But Kyle was faster. He twisted his body, narrowly dodging, and retaliated with a precise palm strike toward Callen's ribs.
Callen grunted but didn't fall back. Too solid. Too trained.
Gareth moved next, a sweeping kick aimed at Kyle's legs.
Kyle barely managed to leap back before impact. Their coordination was sharp.
> [System Notification]
"Sustained Defensive Play Detected."
"Initiating Counter-Offensive Suggestion."
Kyle surged forward.
Fake left. Strike right.
His fist slammed into Callen's jaw, the impact sending him stumbling. But Gareth was already moving. A sharp elbow connected with Kyle's side, pain flaring.
Kyle exhaled sharply but didn't retreat.
Instead, he turned the momentum—grabbing Gareth's arm and yanking him forward. The second-year lost balance for just a second—long enough for Kyle to drive a knee into his gut.
Gareth gasped, staggering back.
Callen recovered, wiping his mouth, eyes flashing with irritation. "You little—"
He lashed out again.
Kyle ducked, shifting to the side—but Callen expected it.
A sharp uppercut clipped Kyle's chin, sending him reeling back a step.
Pain.
He tasted blood in his mouth.
> [System Alert: Minor Damage Sustained.]
Kyle exhaled, forcing himself to stay sharp.
They came again—but this time, Kyle was ready.
Callen swung—Kyle caught his wrist.
Gareth lunged—Kyle turned, using Callen's body as a shield.
In the split second of confusion, Kyle drove his elbow into Callen's ribs, then pivoted and struck Gareth across the temple.
Both second-years staggered.
Kyle's breathing was controlled. Calm. His body still burned from the hits, but—
He was winning.
> [System Notification]
"Combat Advantage Secured."
Callen cursed under his breath, rubbing his ribs. Gareth was slower to recover, shaking his head as if trying to clear his vision.
The two exchanged a glance.
Then—without another word—they turned and walked away.
Aftermath
Kyle watched them go, rolling his shoulder. He had won.
> [System Notification]
"Quest Completed: Take on the Second-Years."
"Reward: 25 EXP."
Only then did he glance at Vivian.
She hadn't moved from where she was against the lockers.
Her Silverwing Moth fluttered slightly, still weak.
She looked up at him, eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then—a small, hesitant smile.
> "Thanks."
Kyle exhaled. "You okay?"
She nodded.
> "Yeah. Just… caught off guard."
Kyle frowned slightly. It was strange. Vivian was strong in her own right. He had seen her fight—she wasn't someone who should have been so easily cornered.
But then again… they were second-years.
She was only Level 2.5.
Kyle let out a breath, nodding.
> "Be careful next time."
Vivian smiled again, a bit wider this time.
> "I will."
Kyle turned to leave, but for a moment, something nagged at him.
Something about how calm she seemed, even after everything.
But in the end—he dismissed it.
Vivian had been helpless. She had needed his help. That was all there was to it.
Right?