---

---

Kaides Estate - Hallways
@Remram

---

---

The panicked Balbys whirled on Rodin as if he expected someone to attack him. Then, as the butler heaved fast breaths, he blinked in confusion. No doubt he was surprised that Rodin, of any of the Kaides children, had been the one to reach out to him. It was an open secret that the First Wife didn't think much of the half-breed, and many others in the household were the same. Balbys stepped back from the boy, and looked from side to side as if afraid someone would spot them together and assume they were conspiring. Rodin couldn't have known, of course, that the manservant was already on Amabilia's blacklist.

"Ah, Y-young Master R-Rodin... It's, it's nothing!" Balbys waved his hands, sweat clearly standing out on the man's brow. "J-just...a minor issue! After all, my lady wants everything perfect on---" His jaw tensed with every word-- "Young Master Vincent's f-first day! Please, excuse my rudeness!" With a terse bow, he spun on his heel.

But, Rodin's elven ears caught what others might have missed as the butler continued down the hall.
_{"That little bastard, he couldn't have found me out by himself! Someone else is in on this---out to ruin me! But two can play at that game---That milk-sucking brat thinks he's all grown up now, does he...?"}

---

---

Kaides Estate Grounds - Servant's Gate
@ERode

---

---

"Ah, but..." The two guards looked at each other. Not being part of the household help involved in their childcare, it wasn't really typical for the men-at-arms to oppose any of the household children. Yet, one of them managed to muster up the courage to enforce the rules---or at least, attempt to keep himself from getting in trouble with someone whose word would overrule Ferrucio's.

"I'm sorry young master, but it's inadvisable to let you go alone. We should arrange at least a few guards to escort you." He looked at his companion, who nodded in support. "In fact, given today's importance, it might be even better if you just sent some of the help for this errand. What is it that you need so urgently?"

If Ferrucio waited around for the guards to run and get others, he would lose valuable time---but, at the same time, it would mean only one guard would remain behind to watch this gate. Yet, if he didn't try to force his way out or do something drastic like jumping the wall, there was also the possibility he could fast-talk himself out of the estate with a small posse in tow, and then maybe shake them off his tail.

---

---

---

@Silver Carrot

---

---

Now having given himself a cursory cleaning and donning something more suitable than the outfit his mother had picked out, Vincent looked through a satchel one of the other servants had put together with his school supplies, presumably the previous night or something. His head raced with thoughts, but not of the Orientation.

Awakening Aura needs to be the priority, I think. Even if I knew enough about the early days of the war to contribute any information, I don't have enough credibility for anyone to take me seriously. And to be honest, I was too far from the front lines to know much about those first two years. The first place hit on our soil was...Solvah, right? The "Dawn Massacre" or something, they called it? I don't even know if I could point Solvah out on a map. But if Viskard had gotten involved a lot earlier than that, we wouldn't have been caught with our pants down.

Despite his best efforts to crush it and remove the weakness from himself, Vincent had some heart left. He fully intended to claw his way to the top of the Kaides and stomp down anyone who looked at him funny in this second life. But he would be a fool to ignore the Demons, and what they'd done. He hated those monsters, each and every one of them, almost as much as he hated the Patriarch.

And in order to re-Awaken my Aura...Because my Type was Sensation, I wonder if using the Kastell method would speed it up? Unlike the Incarnate Will Style he'd been forced to use, despite his physically frail stature as a child, the Kastell method's focus on manipulating the body's senses through water stimulation might have better suited him. Or...damn, there's an idea! Is it possible for me to develop a different type than I originally had? Has anyone at this time figured out the Purification methods?

There was also the matter of undoing Balbys's crappy training methods, and putting some real muscle on his tiny frame. With his head full of possibilities, Vincent walked the halls that his body seemed to remember better than his mind did in search of the stairs down to the ground floor. At some point, he remembered being taken by carriage to the Collegem...

Then, a flurry of long hair and long skirts shot past him. As he turned in surprise, Sherry braced herself against the wall, heaving as if she were going to vomit. But the expression of rage on her face was one that Vincent remembered well---even if she hadn't used it on him as frequently as some others. Ferrucio or one of the staff must have pissed her off already.

Was she this mad the first time? I don't even remember if we saw each other before we got to the ceremony... He sighed. Get yourself together, you bi---

Then he remembered the last time he had seen her. Seen what the Demons had done to her---what they would do to her, if things didn't change this time around. Just like with his mother, Vincent felt a painful throbbing in his chest that he wanted to shut out and couldn't. And then he saw the tears in the corner of her eyes as she picked up her proud little head.

"...Sister? Are you...alright?" he asked her, trying to put on his most innocent face as he stepped towards Sherry, his right hand hesitantly reaching out...

---

---

Kaides Main House, Ground Floor - Common Dining Hall
@Rune_Alchemist@SilverPaw@OwO

---

---

As Estelle, Ophelia, Isana, and the Lady Crescence watched Sherry suddenly flee from the room, they would see the poor flustered Giles spin in place to keep from dropping the tray of ice water and freshly brewed tea he'd brought as the young woman charged past him. As he barely managed to set it down without a single drop escaping the glass or kettle, he sighed in relief---only to jump again as the First Wife herself, Amabilia, barged into the dining hall through the other room.

"Sherry, I've been looking all over---!" she began, but the girl was already gone, running far too fast for her untrained mother to even think of catching up. As the noblewoman snapped her fan out and fanned herself in irritation, she turned on the other four women in the room.

"Crescence! What have your girls done to upset her so!?" she demanded in a crisp tone. Then, her eyes locked on the wheelchair-bound Estelle, and her brow furrowed beneath her silken veil. "Don't tell me...are you still making those accusations about Estelle's accident?!" The First Wife pointed one shiny, sharp nail at the Second. "If you must take out your anger in such an uncouth manner, at least have the common decency to come to me directly---don't you dare to accost my children!"

---

---

---

---

ａｎｄ　ｔｈｅ　ｄａｗｎ　ｏｆ　ａｎ　ｏｌｄ　ｄａｙ

---

As much as she wanted to keep holding onto Sherry, Estelle was forced away unceremoniously as she rolled across the dining room.

To chase her down or to let her be? Estelle thought about it. All that time ago, Estelle would have carelessly chased after Sherry or let her be without much thought. But she was thinking about how to best treat her. And Estelle believed that she could work through it on her own--at least, for now. Being an older sister was more difficult than she remembered. Though, perhaps she hadn't fully grasped it so long ago.

Though her thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Amabilia. She sure was passionate, wasn't she?

Long ago, a healthy Estelle would have tried to placate her aunt. After the incident, Estelle would have shrank back in apathetic silence. But Estelle couldn't help but have an air-headed smile and soft laugh. It was like this so long ago, wasn't it? It all seemed so insignificant now.

"Will you be joining us for breakfast, Lady Amabilia?" Estelle asked once her soft laughter subsided.

---

The trip to the orientation was nostalgic.

No longer in the wheelchair, she instead moved with a simple cane. Of course, she wasn't nimble and still needed assistance--one morning of preparation was not nearly enough to regain proper movement--but appearances were important this day. So much so that she had spent most of the carriage ride massaging her own legs as if to force them back to a functional state.

Her own position in the academy was complicated. She was previously part of the noble class based on merit. Apparently, not any longer--two years of leave alongside words of her health had decayed her position. When her name was said for the common class, hushed whispers filled the crowd--be they from surprise of her name being called, remembrance of the incident, or the prospect of someone like her being sorted into the common class once more. Though, Estelle didn't quite care. She had one year remaining.

And besides that, she already knew of someone who could be a better teacher than anyone at the academy.

Then came the challenges. Estelle remembered them quite vividly. After all, she had been challenged to quite a few--archers in the noble class were thought of as easy pickings by anyone with a shield.

Seeing the young Vincent Kaides raise his hand all but confirmed what she had been thinking ever since she saw Sherry.

For a moment, he almost pitied them.

He had been in this same position before, standing on the opposite end. If he forced things, perhaps there would be some disciplinary actions taken against him, but these men would end up losing their jobs. Could he bear the burden of such thing? Could he sleep at night, knowing that he ruined two lives, just for a momentary pleasure? A flicker of emotional release? A period of nostalgia that he could indulge in, one obtained even more easily if he simply waited for after orientation to do so?

Yes, he could.

Ferrucio had failed far more, to deathly consequences, and had still managed to scarf down his bread and broth, still managed to snatch sleep from cold stones and blood-crusted cloaks. And anyways. He was getting tired of this. If he wanted it, he should just reach for it. If he sought it, there was no reason to second-guess it. Compromise now, be reasonable now, and what would that get him? He clenched his teeth. Let out a low breath. His knuckles were white against the handle of the basket of foodstuffs he had. Saliva gathered, then was swallowed, the joy of living out a peaceful, sunny, perfect day gradually being smothered by the anxiety of doing something unlike himself.

The bastard-child raised his eyes.

"I will return through the main gate and leave it to speculation as to how I left the estate to begin with."

Let's see how far I can push it.

"But I will leave."

And with that, he walked, mirroring the same gait, the same confidence, that Sherry once held. A steady stride, a straight back, and eyes that expected all obstacles to give way in his very presence.

Rodin just watched in surprise as Balbys quickly dashed off just as quickly he gave him the explanation though it was hard to keep secrets from an elf, even a half breed. His ears detected the frustrated mutterings of the butler though what he heard was far more surprising. It took no genius to figure out who Balbys was speaking of given the context of their conversation.

That... That does not track. The Vincent of this time is supposed to be a compliant, sweet kid. Then that could mean... The reality that he was not the only one sent back in time became very real. The question then became who else was sent back and who wasn't. Were it everyone that participated in the final battle or was he narrowing it down too much and many others from past conflicts with the demons were sent back?

"No... That's not what it looked like. Was it only us then?" Rodin muttered to himself as he walked down the halls. That moment after his death, he remembered it so vividly seeing the remnants of his kin. The only one that could not have been sent back to time was the Patriarch or the Demon King. He saw it, their essences were shattered and they absorbed it.

Rodin stopped in his tracks. "...Is this Martenos' doing?" He took a deep breath. No, do not jump into conclusions without knowing the pieces yet though the implications of this possibility were endless. However, that was the least of his immediate worries. "I can't let Mother wait any longer."

What would he say to her? It has been years since he had last seen her, but to her it would've only been yesterday. His thoughts raced and raced until he stood in front of the doors to the parlor. His chest rose and then descended before he pushed one of them open and was greeted to of course a lavish room though none of that mattered to him right now. All that his eyes could focus on was a person in this room, a beautiful elven woman with long black hair that shimmered with a blue hue in the morning light and ruby red eyes. She was dressed in black dress with silver and blue jewelry. On first look, she could've understandably mistaken to be in her early twenties though Rodin knew far better than that.

His mother looked exactly the same the day that he left.

The woman smiled sweetly at her son, placing a book and pen down on a glass table before standing up. "Good morning, Rodin."

Had his legs always moved so quickly? Before he knew it, he was already across the room with his arms hugging his mother tightly. There were no thoughts in his head, only the moment of being reunited with one of the most important people in his life.

Myrrh hesitantly returned her son's hug though she looked quite understandably perplexed by her son's sudden show of affection. "Rodin? What's wrong?" Asked his mother with a tinge of concern.

Rodin's eyes widened when he realized what he had done. He must have seen her yesterday so of course she would be concerned by his unusual behavior. He removed himself from her and stepped back and looked at her for the first time in years. "Nothing, nothing's wrong." Knowing that his behavior was unusual, especially for how he was as a teen, he still could not help, but to smile at her. How could he help it? He was too happy to see her. "Good morning, mother."

He glanced around the parlor. It really was just them. "Where's father? And Bazin and Verusya?"

Myrrh's brown furrowed in confusion. "Your father is meeting us at the Collegem, remember? As for siblings, they're having breakfast. Are you sure you're okay?"

Rodin could only maintain a poker face. Of course it made sense that they talked about it yesterday. The problem was that the he of today was not there yesterday, but fighting in a death march. "Right, of course. Sorry, just a little nervous."

"It's okay. It's a big day after all." She gave her son a once over, a self-satisfied smile spread across her face. "I knew you'd look good in this. You're too handsome for those gaudy outfits that your peers' mothers make them wear. You're gonna stand out from the crowd." She cupped her son's face with her black gloved hands.

He could not help, but to roll his eyes. "Mother..." He groaned in embarrassment. No matter what age, physical or mental, there was no limit to how embarrassed a child could be from the affectionate doting from their mother.

"Just let me dote on you." She removed her hands from his face and the tone of her smile changed. It became worried and anxious. Her eyes conveyed well "I know things have been hard on you lately. Just do your best okay? We're always going to be proud of you. That won't ever change."

Rodin stood in silence. Shame simmered away deep in his gut as he looked at the person that loved him unconditionally. The same person he turned his back on all those years ago all because he sunk into a pit of self-pity. What a failure of a son he was.

A lump formed in his throat as he choked out, "I'm going to work so much harder this year. Things will go differently this year, I promise." The half elf felt tears well in his eyes before they trickled down his cheek. He wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop, but they just kept coming. "I'm sorry."

It was quick, but he was pulled into his mother's shoulder. She was warm, real. "It's okay, it's okay." She said in a hushed tone.

For the first time in a very, very long time Rodin felt the burdens that weighed down on him were lifted. It was comforting, a feeling that he had forgotten for a long time, but it was all in the past now. He was here now and now he could do better. Every regret could be rectified and he was not going to waste the chance given to him.

Eventually, Rodin pulled away from his mother's shoulder. She gently wiped her son's teary, slightly snotty face with a handkerchief. "Now, go and have some breakfast okay? You've got a big day ahead of you."

Rodin nodded. "Right, I, um, I'll see you later mother."

---

Rodin sat in a steady carriage with his mother staring at two young twin elves, a boy and a girl, with black hair and red eyes that stared at Rodin as if he had worms crawling out of his ears. Well, it had not helped that his eyes were still slightly red and puffy and he earlier looked at them as if he had not seen them in years. His two younger siblings, Bazin and Verusya. They gave each other unsure looks before they focused on their mother who was sitting next to their older sibling.

"Why is Rodin acting weird?" Verusya, his younger sister, asked.

"He looks like he's seen a ghost." Followed Bazin, his younger brother.

Not the first time I've heard that today. Rodin thought to himself. The last time he saw his little sister and little brother was the same day he left home and vowed to himself to never return. He remembered how they looked at him, the disappointment in their eyes. Back then he was a complete failure as an older brother to them, he could admit that now. All those stupid ideas that ran through his head back then got in the way of what was important.

How could I have been such a fool?

His mother's voice interrupted his train of thought. "Bazin, Verusya don't be rude. It's natural to be nervous when going back to school." Gently chided his mother.

Rodin laid a hand on his mother's shoulder and smiled softly, sitting straight up. "Mother, I'm fine. Really." His gaze turned back to his younger twin siblings and he leaned forward to be closer to eye level. "I'm gonna show you two something really cool. But don't blink or you'll miss it. Can you two do that for me?" They both nodded excitedly. Rodin's hands reached out and ruffled their little heads of hair. "Good."

"Oh Rodin! I had their hair done perfectly too!" Myrrh complained, quickly pulling out a hairbrush from a black handbag, fussing over her twins' hair.

While this happened Rodin looked out the window. It was hard to believe, but he really was back in time. How had he longed for the view of beautiful Kaidisyum from the family estate though he of all people knew what it took to build and maintain it. How it was built on the backs of those less fortunate than him. Hell, as a mercenary he was no stranger to slumming it with those on the bottom rung of the social castes. They were the first to go when the demons invaded, expendable though no one dared to utter such words. They deserved better than to be treated as such, they deserved better than what they had now.

What could he do for them?

Forget it Rodin. Focus on yourself before you can worry about others. His eyes focused ahead on the looming presence that will make up his teenage years again, the Collegem Yllustre. To be more exact, it would be its grand arena. He paid attention to or cared little for the fanfare of what was practically a parade.

Once they exited the carriage, they were led into the colosseum to a box of seats reserved for the Kaides family. Sitting next to Sylas was Rodin's father, a man with normally a wild, adventurous appearance this time dressed in formal attire. Well, he still had his scruffy beard.

"Father!" Rodin rushed over to his father with the biggest grin on his face. God, he missed him so much and the only thing keeping him from hugging him like he hugged his mother was the fact that even calling out to him like this was undignified for a noble. The half-elf cleared his throat and gave his extended family a polite bow. "Uncle Sylas, Aunt Viatrix. I hope that you are well."

His father grinned to his pale blue eyes and gave his a strong pat on the shoulder, almost knocking the wind out of him. "Well someone's excited! Ready to get started with the school year again are you?"

"Um, yes father. I am," said Rodin hesitantly.

"Dear, it's going to start soon. Shush." Myrrh said to her husband and son.

It was certainly a nostalgic experience to sit through the orientation again. It was hard to believe that back then when he was a child, the first time around, that returning to the Collegem felt like the end of the world to him and now it felt so small by comparison. Well, it was not like he really was paying attention to what the staff were saying either. It was more like he was waiting for something. He bounced his leg restlessly.

And there it was, the class ranking announcements. Rodin was about to raise his hand when he saw a hand shot up: Vincent's hand. The red head was wearing a completely different outfit than what he was supposed to, but even beyond that he should not have known about this method of ranking up. It all but confirmed to Rodin that he was not alone in returning to this time period.

Rodin's hand then shot up as well. "I wish to participate in the Class Challenge as well. Michel Beckman is who I pick for my quarrel." If there was anyone he was not going to feel bad about knocking anyone down from their place within the hierarchy, it was going to be one of his tormentors that mocked him for his heritage. Now, he was not one to hold a grudge against a child but you know what? He was a child too now. This was all fair game.

---

---

The carriage ride had been uncomfortable. Sherry only realised after seeing her brother that she did remember this day. She remembered making multiple barbs about Vincent's outfit in this very coach. His telltale squirming only egged her on. She was getting to him and hurting him, and that felt good. Now, there was no innocence in his expression left. His dress sense had also massively improved. He seemed like the jaded grown up he had been the last time they ever shared words. The day he visited her cell several weeks after her capture. If she recalled right, they had screamed at each other with nothing but seething vitriol for each other's position and actions. And now, the next thing she ever heard from her brother was....asking if she was okay. What the hell was she meant to say to that?

She wanted to ask him. She wanted to confirm her growing suspicions. He might have also returned to this time period. And if it was true for the two of them, maybe that was also the reason for Estelle's changes from Sherry's memories. Maybe every single one of the Klaides children had come back. But she wasn't prepared to discuss or address anything that had happened. She wanted to pretend it was just a bad, prophetic dream. She felt her stomach churn just thinking about talking about that last fight. Actually conversing about it would defeninitely give her a second panic attack. And in this carriage, there'd be no way to run this time.

So she sat in silence. No snide remarks. No passive aggressive jabs. No attempt at small talk. No thanks. She stared out the window as if she was in the carriage alone. She hadn't seen the city this peaceful for a very long time. It was amazing what you could take for granted and never realise it. Sherry always saw the Collagem as an opportunity to climb the social and heirarchal ladder. But now she saw it differently. It was an opportunity to not just prepare herself for the turbulent future, but help prepare the entire country. To do this, she needed to cultivate her image and reputation. And that didn't just mean turning everything around but also using every advantage she had with the way things stood at the moment. She began sorting through events in her past. What has already happened? What will happen soon? What won't happen for a while? What could she change? What could she take advantage of?

Sherry went through the motions. She paid no attention to the boring speeches. She had no interest in the Class Challenge. She was already Noble Class. Her demotion didn't happen for another two years, and this time, it won't happen at all. At nineteen years old, she was probably the strongest she would ever be in her life as her lack of effort or training took its tool on her performance the more she coasted off her innate talent. She had never awakened at all in her past life. This time, she was going to.

When Vincent, who was sitting beside her,raised his hand and volunteered for the class challenge, Sherry couldn't keep the smile from her face as she looked up at him. If he met her eyes, he'd see something he'd never have seen on her face before;

Pride in him.

---

---

Lucas's journey was exactly as he remembered it, a polite morning greeting for his mother as they pass, than sitting with his back straight and loooking out of the window, surveying the city as they pass. Of course his thoughts are rather different this time, then it had been a slightly nervous anticipation of another year at the Collegem, even at 15 he'd been rather unstatisfied. This time his thoughts were more focused on the city watch and men at arms, he wonders how many of them survived the city's fall, and when that thought passes his mind returns to his plans to be better this time, he's not sure how to improve the outcome this tiem, but at least he probably can't do worse.

---

---

Lucas pays the Orientation only half of his attention, seven years of basically the same thing rather robbed it of its mystique, rules, speeches, boasting that they'll probably never back up and the Elite class being exactly as unlikeable as he remembered. Then Vincent stuck his hand up, that certainly hadn't happened before, who even told him about this and why does he think he has a chance? Is it related to that noise he heard on the other floor, actually he seems to be dressed less ridiculously too.
As much as Lucas had loathed the attempts to foster rivalry, he was still going to copy his half brother here. His hand rises in challenge, he might lack his strength and aura, but none of these students have his experience, most of them probably haven't even fought a single real battle.

He issues his challenge against a member of the noble class by the name of Auxentius Bardas, a 16 year old who thought himself something special with the sword, and more importantly one of Blaise's hangers on.

---

---

The wooden staff topped with leather and straw is noticeably lighter than a proper poleaxe, and as Lucas hefts it he's confident his own lesser strength will not an issue, part of his mind can't help but notice the bottom end and haft are not padded, though if they'd actually padded every contact point he'd be wielding a hay bale.

Ophelia Noella Kaides
@SilverPaw@OwO@Silver Carrot

---

Well this was a right showing alright. Honestly, she found Sherry's distress amusing, if only because previously the girl had been so arrogant it was nice to see her be flustered. The only thing that gave her pause though, was that she didn't remember this happening. Or hearing of something like this happening. Granted, in her past life she was pretty sure this breakfast didn't happen. She didn't attend, at least. Maybe she had been too ill. At least they had peace now-

Ah. Amabilia. In her past life she would have just quietly ignored the woman, or at least try and be civil but now? Yeah, no. She had grown increasingly tired of such people in her past life. The bullying, the gossiping, the utter audacity and contemptable nature they treat everyone else around them. Even if she knew she should stay quiet, she no longer could. If people wanted her to be a pitiful child or a demon of some sort, she'd give them one.

Maybe it'd even be amusing to do it, this life.

"Yes, I am feeling mostly well, mother." Words spoken in her usual soft voice, but tinged with a bit of uncharacteristic irritation. "Sadly, there's an uninvited harlot squawking like a seagull giving me a migraine. Maybe she should leave before I accidentally mess up her dress from being sick." Ophelia would continue her breakfast in silence, and should her siblings have any thoughts about her uncharacteristic words, she'd simply give them a little smile and do her best to act dumb.

Otherwise though, hopefully the breakfast would go unimpeded.

She'd remain quiet and mostly taciturn through the trip, and as she'd sit in the stadium she'd merely watch the proceedings with further disinterest. How droll, really. In the past she desperately wanted to be a part of it all. She still did, truly. All she ever wanted to be was a proper Kaides, and even now she desperately wanted to be.

But looking at all this with the eyes of someone who died and went through hell practically alone.

Well...she couldn't help but to find this all pointless showmanship with zero reason for existing. The only thing that even so much as caught her attention, was Isana actually challenging someone. Ophelia's head swiveled towards her as she made the challenge. That was new. Unexpected, but at this point she couldn't really say she was surprised. Things had already deviated slightly, so what was one more?

Might as well throw another wrench in the plans of the previous history as well, and if nothing else she'd perhaps, surprise her sisters. Just as her sisters match would end, instead of merely raising her hand Ophelia would saunter down towards the field making sure she would be the center of attention. And mostly just to make sure she was in fact, heard since she still couldn't really raise her voice without straining.

Paying her sister no mind, Ophelia made her challenge. Perhaps she was feeling petty after breakfast, and maybe it was her years of built up frustration and anger, but she really wanted to get back at least, even a little, at that bitch Amabilia and this was the easiest way to do it. Knock her precious little Sherry down several painful pegs. Could she win? She didn't care if she did, but she was confident.

"I challenge Sherry Naibi Kaides." Ophelia turned and pointed a slender finger at where she was sitting in the stands.

If Isana's victory caused flabbergasted into silence, the declaration from Ophelia was met with both equal parts laughter from some of the Noble and Elite class, and even more confusion from others.

Well, there he was, standing in the middle of the god damn arena with every someone that was someone in this kingdom looking down at him both literally and metaphorically. The eyes of his peers that thought he was just a worthless half-breed and in the eyes of the others that didn't know who he was he was a Kaides so there were definitely expectations both high and low. It couldn't be great entertainment though considering it was a glorified pillow fight.

Rodin held his 'glaive,' a stick with a sack filled with hay tightly wound with rope on the end. "Stupid kiddy shit," muttered Rodin. He twirled it around with a deftness that betrayed the expectations of the peers that closely worked with him. While his body certainly was not as capable as it was when he was older, his experience was still ingrained into his very being. At the very least his efforts had not gone down the drain.

"Oh? So you can twirl your stick better now?" A voice called out from behind. Rodin turned to see his opponent with that smirk that was burned into his memory. Michel Beckman of the Noble Class, the blonde pale bastard with always closed eyes. A total kiss ass to the student council and someone that frequently enjoyed kicking him when he was already down. He never really was an actual friend to any of them, but he was a helpful scoundrel so they always kept him around for that reason alone. If there was anyone that he was willing to demote it was going to be this guy.

"Better than you ever could use yours." Rodin casually said as he 'stabbed' the pole arm into the ground and leaned forward on it.

Michel's smarmy smirk widened with amusement. "Oh? When did you get a smart mouth? Trying to put on an act?"

Rodin shrugged in response and nonchalantly said, "No act here. Just unbridled confidence." His ruby red and icy blue eye sized him up from head to toe. He clicked his tongue dismissively at him and shook his head. "Oh god this is not a fair match up."

Michel arched his brow and wore a puzzled expression. "Huh? What are you on about? You're the one that requested me."

A sigh escaped from his lips as he straightened his posture. "You've got it backwards; it's unfair to you. Now bring your A-Game, little snake. I want the results to be so clear that no one can contest." He twirled his weapon once more before pointing the hay sack tip at his opponent in a bored manner.

His opponents smirk darkened into a scowl, gritting his teeth in frustrated annoyance at the half-elf's newfound disrespect. "You damn half breed. I'll remind you where your place is." He gripped the handle of his wooden sword wrapped in various layers of stuffed cloth.

The nondescript referee of the fight looked at both fighters and began the match with, "Begin!"

Michel was the first to move, his grip on his sword ready to thrust at Rodin except he stopped midway through the action and dashed back. His hands trembled while a bead of cold sweat ran down his confused face as he looked at Rodin's unflinching cold gaze. It was as if he went by instinct to not complete the attack for fear of death. Perplexed murmurs filled the crowd though any experienced fighter knew exactly why Michel stepped back: Rodin's overwhelming killing intent.

Michel was not fighting Rodin Larion Kaides; he was fighting Rodin the Mercenary. When faced with the killing intent of others on a daily basis and killing in turn, any warrior would develop their killing intent lest they would be overwhelmed by their opponent's own. Any warrior hardened by the battlefield would develop such a keen edge though it was not bloodlust. While easy to confuse, bloodlust is uncontrollable while what Rodin emitted was entirely focused on Michel and so much of it at such a young age.

A smirk crawled across Rodin's mouth. "Weren't you going to remind this half breed of his place?"

"You bastard!" Michel rushed towards Rodin and performed a horizontal slash with the practice weapon.

In response, Rodin stepped back to maintain his range advantage and swung the polearm towards his opponent's neck. However, Michel was able to quickly return his weapon back to position and then blocked the attack. The attack didn't make a satisfying impact. That was the difference between their physical abilities, but Rodin knew that going into the fight.

"Acting that tough and yet you're still so weak? You really are full of shit!" Michel shouted with a grin as he swung upon Rodin again though it turned into a dance of them Rodin dodging and Michel pridefully and cockily blocking all of Rodin's weak strikes.

"Keep dancing for me!" Michel shouted gleefully.

To the audience it appeared that the half elf was on the back foot. After all, his attacks were far weaker and while some would have expected Rodin to panic, he looked unusually calm. His gaze was only on his opponent, watching Michel's footwork, his posture, the way he breathed, and even the way he held his weapon.

Physically he's got me beat, but that's it. Yes, Michel had the physical ability, but in terms of actual prowess with the sword he was lackluster to say the least. It made every attack ever easier for Rodin to predict and conserve energy. Rodin did not trust his body yet to be able to block or redirect attacks so he put all of his faith in dodging.

Rodin's eyes were focused on his opponent and once again swung his weapon at him though he was waiting for something. Michel cockily raised his weapon to block the weapon again, lazily expecting another weak blow. Now!

Weapons collided, except something was very different; the sound of Rodin's swing had a much deeper, satisfying sound. Michel's eyes widened in surprise and in pain as the impact reverberated throughout his body. "The hell did you do?!" He spat out right before he saw Rodin take another swing at him and quickly raised his guard once again expecting a heavy blow, but once again it was another of Rodin's weaker strikes. "What?" He, like others in the audience, looked very confused.

Rodin gave Michel no time to process what had happened before he spun around and swung at his neck. Michel once again raised his practice blade to block the strike only for another resounding deep POW to shake him to his core. "You messing with me?!"

Any magic user or any experienced warrior could tell what Rodin was doing; he was using Urigellr to enhance his physical attacks. Given that Rodin just by holding the weapon made it lighter, he was able to focus all of the telekinetic force at the end of his weapon to increase the speed and force of his attack though he used it on only some of his attacks. What made Rodin's strategy devious was how unpredictable it was. Rodin had conditioned Michel for his typical weaker attacks, but now that the Kaides was slipping in stronger attacks that went against his conditioning Michel was unable to determine how much strength was needed to block his attacks.

Still to the observer it appeared like the two of them were even. Neither of the boys had yet to land an actual blow on each other, but something was growing more apparent with each passing second; only one of them was getting tired. Michel was panting and dripping with sweat while Rodin still looked as fresh as the moment he stepped on the battlefield. The wasted movements of Michel's mediocre swordsmanship and wasting energy to block weak attacks while barely blocking the more powerful ones ate away at his stamina.

Rodin lowered his weapon slightly. "Do you yield?"

Michel looked at him, his typically closed eyes wide open. "What?" He said in disbelief.

"Do you yield?" Rodin repeated.

His opponents eyes were filled with a sense of vitriolic rage that he never felt before in his life. To concede in front of anyone that actually mattered in the kingdom to him of all people was not only an insult to his pride, but a complete embarrassment that would ruin him. To be pushed by the half breed was unacceptable. He stood there, quivering with rage as veins pulsed around his head. "I'm gonna kill you!"

Rodin chuckled, "Believe me, it'll take a lot more than you to bring me down." He charged towards Michel and swung down at his exhausted opponent. Michel just barely blocked the overhead strike with another resounding boom. Michel gasped in pain as his muscles screamed and bones.

"You piece of-!" Michel gasped from the familiar overwhelming sensation that Rodin gave from the beginning of the match. The killing intent sent a cold shiver down his spine.

"Do you yield?" Rodin repeated once more.

"F-fuck y-" Before he could finish his sentence, his jaw was forcibly shut as Rodin kneed him in the face with a flying knee. He dropped his weapon and fell onto his hands and knees, blood dripping from his mouth. However, Rodin threw his weapon to the side and grabbed Michel by the hair and pulled him up to his face.

Rodin once again repeated. "Do you yield?"

"N-n-no!" A loud slap hit Michel right across the face, leaving a red tender hand print.

Rodin's eyes were cold. "Do. You. Yield?"

"N-n-n" This time it was the backhand. Rodin then didn't even bother to ask the question again and started to just slap him back and forth with the palm and the back of his hand even until his own hand was raw from hitting him. Eventually it looked like Rodin was just slapping a bruised tomato leaking tomato with weird swollen growths.

Michel just started sobbing, tears streaming down his red and purple swollen face. "Ith yielth, Ith yielth!" He fell to the ground when Rodin released his grip on his hair. Michel curled in a fetal position. He was probably traumatized.

Rodin looked down at him with contempt. "I was seriously pushed around by him? I could've beaten him when I was a kid in the first place."

This was a very different Rodin than what his peers or even his family knew. What in the world happened?

---

---

Watching Isana's fight against Argenta, Sherry noted that Isana's skills were much, much sharper than they should have been. And she was fighting dirty. Sherry knew it. They'd all come back, and Isana was no longer a mere student but a soldier. Several other Klaides members challenged Noble class students too. Sherry leaned forward with interest when Ophelia walked down to the center of the arena. She'd never paid the weak, sickly girl any mind. They never crossed paths later in life and even after Sherry's arrest, Ophelia wasn't one of the few who ever visited her half-sister.

She was stunned to silencewhen Ophelia pointed to her and called out her name. There was laughter. Sherry still had the reputation of a talented student, after all. This match, to most students, was an unfair foregone conclusion. But Sherry knew full well that she was out of practice. While the rest of her family were fighting, Sherry deserted her first battle without crossing swords with a single foe. She spent the remaining years of her past life in captivity of some form or other.

Sherry wordlessly made her way down to the arena with a cold, determined look on her face, and pulled a longsword from the rack. Ophelia knew her half sister to be one to passive-aggressively gloat and never missed a chance to belittle others. But right now, Sherry was focused, and was taking Ophelia very seriously.

Ophelia wasn't sure what to make of Sherry's silence. She had expected some boastful words. Mockery. Something, and yet...there was nothing. Well, it didn't matter to her. She held no love for Sherry or whatever it was she was going through. She only had one thing on her mind. Victory.

"I expected derision or some sort of mockery." Ophelia walked over and picked up her own weapon. It wasn't her Estoc, but a Rapier would do just fine. "Instead, all I'm getting is silence." The up til now quiet, meek, and objectively timid girl turned to face her opponent, words laced with cold derision. "Whats the matter, sister? Where is all that confidence and boasting? Or are you scared this sick little girl is going to make everyone see how pathetic you actually are?" Ophelia testing the weight of her blade, satisfied with its performance as she'd point it towards Sherry. "Well, since you do seem to be scared...I guess I'll let you have the first strike."

An irritated grimace flash on Sherry's face for a brief moment. She didn't like being talked down to, insulted or ridiculed. Sherry didn't expect any of that to have come from Ophelia's mouth. Even if she was rusty, Sherry remembered how talented she used to be around this age. She should still be able to win this fight. Sherry grit her teeth and then charged. She decided to feel out Ophelia's skill with a thrusting weapon by slashing up at her diagonally.

Ophelia took a deep breath as Sherry approached. She hadnt fought Sherry before in her previous life. She had never a reason too, so she wasnt entirely used to her fighting style. What she could tell, though, is that she definitely wasnt as skilled as some demons, or hell, even as some of her peers. She had already braced herself by the time Sherry had made her first strike. Ophelia backstepped, deftly avoiding the simple slash. This was followed by a powerful thrust right towards Sherry midsection and was followed through by immediately going on the offensive, pressing forward and making a series of quick, precise thrusts at Sherry's shoulders and one aimed towards her neck.

Sherry just about managed to block the first thrust with muscle memory, and was being forced back by the subsequent attacks. Something was very off. Even if Sherry was more bark than bite, a Noble class student should be better than this. Her movements were fine, but there was no....sense of combat. The sudden thrust to a vital area caused Sherry to flinch, stumble backwards and just about catch herself from falling on her rear.

Sherry steeled herself. She could sense she was fighting a seasoned veteran of many fights. Meanwhile Sherry was still trying to climb up to the level of confidence and capability she had when she was nineteen. The original Sherry from this day would have been putting up a better fight. It was embarrassing. Everyone else had gotten stronger from the effort of playing their part in the war while she rotted in prison. Sherry alone was the Klaides child who'd been left behind.

No. She was always one of the most gifted. She needed to trust in her talent and instincts. Letting her body's muscle memory take over, Sherry lunged forward and crossed blades. Thrusting weapons only have one single point that can hurt you. The rest of the blade is otherwise just a rod. Sherry stepped into close quarters and aimed an elbow at Ophelia's ribs.

It was true. Thrusting swords did have a more limited range of movement, but she had long since learned to compensate for it. The edges were still sharp, if not as sturdy. It was clear, too, that despite everything Sherry was definitely still physically stronger and possibly, faster than her. Each clash or challenge of blades left her arm stinging with numbness and pain. However, what Sherry lacked, now, was experience and it was easy enough to read her half-sisters movements. Her movements? Easy to read, and when one was as weak as Ophelia was...one had to take every advantage they could get. Being short rarely had its advantages...but now, It meant Sherry had to aim down a little to actually hit her with her elbow. So...Ophelia merely ducked slightly right under the blow, twirling elegantly to Sherry's non-dominant side, one hand on the hilt of her blade and the other on the pommel. As the spinning maneuver came to an end, with any luck, her rapier would be planted firmly in Sherry's neck.

The moment Sherry registered that the blade was causing her pain, she recoiled violently. The change in her eyes was drastic. She looked equal parts terrified and haunted, yet there was a vacancy, as if her consciouness had retreated like a tortoise hiding in its shell. Her sword arm went limp and swung to her side in defeat, but she didn't concede verbally. It took her an uncomfortably long few seconds to return to the land of the living.

"I yield"

Ophelia Noella Kaides
@Silver Carrot

---

There was silence across the coliseum, and silence from Ophelia as the weight of the events that just transpired settled over the air. Nobody knew what to think. Nobody dared to make a sound. Had it truly just happened? Sherry yielded to her half-sister? Her half sister who could barely walk or strain herself without getting violently ill? Surely all she'd need to do was simply...avoid engaging and wear her out during the duel to claim victory.

The fight barely lasted a minute.

"...what?" The silence was first broken by Ophelia herself. "That...you...you serious?" She'd step away from Sherry, a mildly perplexed expression. "That...that was too easy..." The words left her mouth before she could think about what she was saying really. "Is this really all you can do, Sherry? Or under that facade of yours you're just that pathetically weak?" She'd inhale, gritting her teeth, tone of voice raising slightly with each word she spoke. "You...you better not just be taking pity on me-" She was interrupted by a slight coughing fit, immediately covering her mouth with her hand. She'd take a few deep breaths, her voice slowly returning to its usual quiet, stilted and muted tone.

"...whatever. If you are I'll take it." She'd say, wiping her mouth and looking away from Sherry. "But next time, I expect an actual contest." So Ophelia would turn to leave, not sparing a word for Sherry's response if she even had one as she'd step out of the Arena.

---

---

Kaides Estate Grounds - Servant's Gate
@ERode

---

---

"...Very well, Young Master. Forgive us for overstepping." The second guard looked at his companion with a glance that said are you sure about this?, but the first man shook his head silently as he pulled a lever within the inner wall. The gates creaked as the locking mechanism released, and the two guards pushed open the heavy doors.

Ferrucio was free.

But, as he marched past them, once the young man was out of earshot the first guard looked at his partner again.

"Go to the Captain, about this time he ought to be inspecting the barracks." he said in a hushed, rushed tone. "If he thinks the kid needs a guard, he'll send someone. You could pick any of these noble brats out of a crowd like a smashed thumb, it won't be hard for them to catch up with him."

"B-but what if he fires us for letting him go in the first place?! Why not just stay put and keep our mouths shut?" The second guard wrung his hands together, and looked around nervously as if he expected someone already coming to scold them.

"Because getting fired is better than getting punished." came the reply. "There's always work for a man with a weapon these days, but if one of the Kaides women thinks we're responsible for her precious little rugrat getting mugged in a back alley, they'll order us flogged or stripped in the pillory or some crap. At least the captain will let us keep our dignity!"

The second seemed convinced by this argument. After a moment of biting his lip, he ran off to find the Captain of the House Guard.

---

---

Kaides Main House, Ground Floor - Common Dining Hall
@Rune_Alchemist@SilverPaw@OwO

---

---

When Estelle began to laugh, Amibilia's face changed from one of consternation to one of utter confusion. Crescence's passive barb brought the red-headed woman's temper right back up to boiling, though---and yet, the merchant's daughter knew better than to openly respond to the provocation. The accusation on the second Wife's tongue, no matter how plausibly deniable, would put Amibilia on the back foot. Accusing someone of something was, in such an instance, a way to make that person divert their energies to defending themselves and losing track of the real point of their argument.

By contrast, Ophelia's commentary played no games. It had all the nuanced strategy of a bum-rushed battering ram at the front gates. The first wife's fan snapped shut---and then its wooden skeleton cracked in half between her lace-gloved hands as she snarled, her face turning the same shade as her hair.

"Dear girl, whomever are you speaking to? Crescence, I believe the poor darling is having another of her fevers---you should hurry and put her to bed, before these delusions carry her away. Hearing seagulls, at the dining table--What a vivid imagination!" She sniffed as she turned, skirts in hand, and stormed out of the room. Her voice's high pitch was further strained as she called down the halls. "Sherry! Sherry, my dear, where are you!?"

And thus, the three sisters and their mother were left to their breakfast, and the carriage ride afterward--no doubt having quite enjoyed their morning thus far.

---

---

@Silver Carrot

---

---

His sister had only glared at him, and his outstretched hand, though he could tell gears were working in her head. He withdrew it---just as their mother came flouncing around the corner.

"Sherry! Don't you worry, my darling, those little bitches won't bother you ever again if I have anything to say about it! Hurry, let's get your things, I'll tell Balbys---ah, no, nevermind him!" Amabilia seemed especially emotionally volatile this morning--perhaps justified, considering what both of her children had been through already. Their mother's face darkened at the mention of her former right-hand manservant. But, then she beamed as she took in Vincent's new look, and enveloped him in a hug from behind.

"Ah! Sherry, look at your baby brother! He picked his outfit out all by himself this morning! Although..." She pouted, her lower lip trembling. "Vincent, don't you think it's too warm for such heavy trousers? And all black? Wouldn't you rather---"

"Mother, please." The exasperation in his voice was not that of a fourteen year old. He looked ridiculous, with his face surrounded by Amibilia's bosom and his arms crossed defiantly. "No shortpants."

The carriage ride, thank ILA, was much quieter. Sherry hadn't said a word to him---but, then again, he wasn't wearing that ridiculous get-up this time. Now that he was experiencing it for the second time, he remembered that she had spoken to him this morning---to tell him exactly how stupid and childish that white outfit with the cape had been. He remembered sniffling over it; little wonder he had shut it out until now.

But was the fact that he'd changed clothes really what had her so quiet this morning? Their mother had mentioned some kind of trouble with whom Vincent could only assume had to be their three half-sisters---they, or their mother, were two of the top three reasons Amibilia stayed pissed off. The third, of course, being Ferrucio most of the time. However, he didn't remember Sherry ever being on the losing end of any exchanges with Ophelia or her sisters---even Estelle, although that was less because of any skill in wordplay, and more because Estelle usually wasn't the type to punch under her weight class.

Big Sis Stella. I wish I'd gotten a chance to see her...but, was she awake yet? Or is she still in a coma? He closed his eyes as they trundled along. Damn, does she leave this year?! Or is it next year? I wonder if I could stop her? But, even if I did...

His arms and legs remained crossed. When his eyes opened, they fixated on the sights passing outside. But, clearly, his mind was racing about something...and every so often, his mouth worked its way into a tight line.

---

---

"I, Vincent Alexo Kaides, will undertake the Class Challenge!"

His hand had been the first up; he shouted at the top of his lungs, and was heard by almost everyone in the Great Arena. The faculty member who'd been selected to give the closing address looked across the crowd for a moment before finally locking eyes with him, and when the man did his mouth opened and closed in silence for a moment. After a moment, the instructor collected himself.

"...Whom do you name as your opponent, Vincent Kaides?" said the teacher, his voice amplified through a wooden cone.

"Bennett Falcis." declared the boy. The student in question made a sound of disbelief, as every head in the rows around him turned to look at him. Bennett was two years Vincent's senior at 16, and was firmly in the middle of the Noble Class's rankings. He wasn't especially well-known, though he had all-around good grades academically and had well-balanced skills in just about every other category save (as was the norm in a Collegem focused on the knightly arts) magic. Until today, he had never even met the youngest son of the Kaides house, though he was acquainted at least from across a classroom with most of the others.

But, Vincent thought to himself with an evil smirk. What made you stand out to my dear cousins was your fanatical, blind-as-the-back-of-an-ass, loyalty. Especially to that bitch, Aqua. Because they had trusted him to carry out their orders without question and to rat on anyone else in their posse, Bennett was the "top lackey" among the twins' hanger-ons even if he wasn't the strongest or the smartest. Others like Michael Beckman were stronger and meaner, and those like Argenta Sylvester were more cunning and charismatic. Vincent wasn't as confident in his ability to beat those two, not with his current shrimpy body. But Bennett? A goblin could beat Bennett, if they knew just where to hit him.

"Bennett Falcis, you are challenged for your class ranking by Vincent Kaides. Do you accept?" called the instructor. Though he seemed unsure as he looked from side to side, amidst the mutterings and some snickering from his classmates Bennett finally nodded. He stood, and seemed to grow more confident as he strode down the stairs.

After all, Vincent hadn't even started Collegem yet, and everyone knew the Patriarch's children had somehow fallen far, far from their family tree. The youngest was said to be a crybaby, to have no talent at all even compared to his own siblings. Blaise and Aqua often talked about the Failed Generation among their cronies, laughing and poking fun at all of them behind their backs. And everyone knew Sherry, Vincent's older sister, was the biggest bitch on campus. Getting a chance to embarrass her little brother would be cathartic.

Vincent practically skipped on his way down to the arena, a wide smile plastered across his face. He immediately snatched a wooden imitation of an arming sword---it was almost like a bastard sword if one considered it proportionally to his height. Twirling it in one hand, he whistled as he mounted the arena while the faculty moved all their chairs far away from the center stage. Bennett chose a longsword, and started to reach for a shield...but, upon glancing back at Vincent, decided to forego it.

Should I tell him to go ahead? Fight me at full strength? Vincent spat over his left shoulder, barely missing his own sleeve---he wasn't used to that arm being there anymore. Nah! Make another mistake, you bastard! They met, and Bennett bowed. Vincent did not.

"Welcome to Collegem, Young Master Vincent. If I may ask, why did you choose me for this challenge?" The bootlicker was all fake smiles and etiquette now, but Vincent well remembered the sadistic glee on that face whenever Bennett got the chance to pick on someone weaker than himself. He was so repressed, whether by family or by the expectations of his classmates, that he had always relished the chance to overindulge himself on students who couldn't fight back---whether against Bennett's own strength, or more often, against the numbers and the influence at his back.

"Because I hate your fucking guts." Vincent said with a blank face, in the most monotone voice he could muster. As predicted, Bennett was flabbergasted. Before he could ask why Vincent felt that way, the instructor had approached them and raised one gloved hand.

"This Class Challenge has been accepted! The two of you have chosen your weapons. Are you ready?" He looked at both of them, and raised an eyebrow when as Vincent snapped to a perfect swordsman's salute while looking back at him with big, sparkling eyes.

"I'm weady, Mistah teacher!" announced the youngest Kaides, before finally returning Bennett's bow. "Pwease guide me, Mistah Bennett! I'm not vewy stwong yet, but I'ww do my best~!"

"H-huh? B-but you just said---" The instructor wrinkled his nose, and Bennett gulped. "Y-yes sir, I'm ready!"

"Take your stances!" The two did so. Bennett, as befitting his all-around average status, took a textbook-perfect Longpoint Guard from the Incarnate Will style's basics. Vincent, however, turned his body sideways in a "bladed" stance, with his arming sword held more like a rapier. These details weren't lost on the onlookers.

_{"What's with that stance?"} ^{"It's not wrong, but it's not Incarnate Will either---looks more like Geveil's fencing to me."} _{"Why's he letting his left arm just hang limp like that, though?"} ^{"Is he mimicking someone else?"}

"BEGIN!"

Vincent immediately lunged off the starting line, but not only did he aim a pinpoint thrust directly at Bennett's face, he also let out a sound that could only be described as a screech. It sounded more like a yowling cat than a battle cry. Anyone might have been shocked by it---it was a classic "fake-out" tactic to distract an opponent. Most trained fighters, however, would have the reflexes to easily counter such a straight forward attack despite any momentary disruption to their thought process.

But Vincent's attack had begun long before the instructor's signal. His challenge, his threat, and his cutesy act had kept Bennett off balance this whole time, constantly shifting back and forth. Why was he being challenged by a child he didn't know? Wait, this child hated him? What had he done to deserve that? Wait, what was Vincent trying to do in flipping a complete one-eighty in attitude like that? Obviously he was faking it, but which attitude was the fake one? And now he was screaming---

The point of Bennett's sword was slow as it CLACKED against Vincent's, displacing the thrust. There was a tenth of a second's hesitation in his counter stroke sliding down Vincent's blade, and the smaller boy was already spinning on the ball of one foot. His head lowered just enough that Bennett missed; Vincent's heel slammed into his gut just beneath his floating ribs.

There was too much weight difference between them to move him more than a step. As Vincent's foot returned to the ground Bennett's sword was already up and ready to come down---but instead of returning to a stable stance, the redheaded boy dipped low. He wasn't out of range of Bennett's double handed downstroke, but the extra distance gave him more time to get his own sword in position. Vincent's trailing right arm made a low arc before he launched his whole body upward, his shorter sword sailing through the space between them. The ascending cut got up right between Bennett's outstretched arms---reflexively, he pulled his face back and killed the momentum of his own blade! It barely nicked his wrist. However, it wasn't lost on the older boy that if these had been real blades, such a strike would've reduced him to a one-handed grip.

Vincent ducked away from the now neutered strike, and pressed his opponent with what seemed like a wild flurry of slashes. The way he moved was almost animalistic---and what began to clue the crowd in to the boy's true nature, was the unhinged laughter boiling up out of him. Bennett's blade CLICKed and CLACKed as he hurried to block the strikes. Vincent's assault was serious---was this what the senior students and the instructors called killing intent? At first Bennett was off balance, and he had lost the pace. But as the fight went on, the difference between him and Vincent's physicality became more clear---he had reach, he had speed, and he had strength. Even moreso the latter, since Vincent was only holding his weapon with one arm. Bennett re-established his stance, and soon recovered his confidence. He narrowed his eyebrows as he finally halted Vincent's advance, easily blocking every strike without moving. He was used to the repeated motions now---it seemed like the young Kaides was only aiming for his head, as if he wanted a knockout blow.

Then Vincent feinted high, and Bennett steeled himself to block only for the younger boy to let his point fall aside. Having already set his weight, Bennett was frozen in space for an instant.

He saw the kick coming in painfully slow motion. The crowd's bugged out eyes followed Vincent's foot at the same speed. Meanwhile, in that same slowed time, Vincent's head shook side to side like a rabid dog as his tongue hung out of his mouth. The tip of Vincent's fancy shoe drove itself into Bennett's groin like a spring dandelion bursting through a concrete sidewalk.

A thud, and then a scream that rose high enough to shatter glass before cutting itself off. Bennett's knees shook as he took one stumbling step back, and then another. His eyes were bloodshot, and his sword trembled in his grip. But, you didn't get to the Noble class at the Kaides' Collegem Illustre without learning to take a little pain. He managed a hoarse gasp. He set his teeth, and with all the anger now fueling him he prepared to break his sword over Vincent's smarmy little skull---!

"You know Bennett," Vincent said---when had the boy gotten beside him!?---"Cousin Aqua says she loves you a lot~!"

"Whu-huh?" Bennett blinked, a pink blush rising to his paling cheeks. Vincent slammed his wooden sword down on the back of the boy's neck. The noble-class fell knees-first to the hard tiles, his vision swimming as pain shot down his spine and his arms, all the way to the tips of his fingers. One hand let go of his sword, because he had to catch himself. Voice barely audible as nausea swam in his guts, he looked up pitifully at the youngest Kaides.

"I yie--GUHK!" The point of Vincent's sword rammed into his jaw, almost knocking out a few teeth. Bennett retched as it nearly scratched the back of his throat.

"Don't you fucking say it!" Vincent snarled, leaning close to the older boy. "I'm enjoying this!" He withdrew his blade only to kick Bennett again, driving him down to his side upon the ground. The sixteen year old put his hands over his head and cowered as Vincent began to bludgeon him with the practice weapon, over and over and over again. Bennett cried out as he took a hit on his arms, but then he was struck in the floating ribs. When he tried to cover those up, Vincent laid into his back and shoulders. When he guarded that, Vincent stomped on one of his knees.

His growling continued, low enough for just Bennett to hear.

"Get UP! Put me in my place now, you pathetic trash! Beg me for mercy! Scream for those two to save you! They don't give a shit about you---no one does! No one will! No one SHOULD!"

Vincent's sword was caught in mid-stroke. The next thing the boy knew, he was flying through the air---the teacher's hand was outstretched as he came between them. Vincent landed like a cat in a crouch, smiling mischievously even as the proctor eyed him with a narrowed gaze.

"STOP! This duel is over!" said the teacher, loud enough that even without the bullhorn the crowd could hear him. "Vincent Kaides is the victor! He shall be promoted to the Noble Class!" A cacophony broke out in the stands---some cheered, while others were less than plussed about this sudden surprise.

_{"He crotch kicked him!? Is that legal?!"} ^{"What was that? Can you even call that swordsmanship?"} _{"I thought he was supposed to be some kind of crybaby?" "Dude, he got into the Noble Class on his first day! I think that's the fastest anyone has ever done it!"} ^{"Hahaha! That Falcis guy's a loser, he got his ass handed to him by a freshie!"}

"HEEEEEEEEEY!"

The teacher, the crowd, and even the infirmary nurses gathering the catatonic Bennett onto a stretcher turned to see young Vincent standing with arms outstretched at the center of the arena.

"IF ANY OF YOU MISSED IT---MY NAME IS VINCENT, ALEXO, GOD-DAMNED KAIDES!!!" He pointed towards the upraised center section of the stands, where all of his family, extended family, and servants were looking down at him. "And by midterms, I'll be back to bust up the Elite class too! So all of you---!" he swept his arm around, turning a circle to get the entire crowd. "JUST WATCH ME!"

As the redhead now confidently stomped back towards his seat, the teacher who had refereed the duel certainly did keep an eye on the boy. He also glanced down at his hand---the one that had reached out to shove Vincent off of poor Bennett.

I never reached him. He had, to his own discredit, been too slow to stop the fight. Like many others, he had been stunned by both the skill and the sheer viciousness the youngest Kaides had displayed. But, once it had become apparent Vincent would gladly beat the other boy to death if allowed, the teacher had jumped up and moved towards him with all the swiftness he could muster short of activating his own Aura. When Vincent brought back the sword, he had reached out to grab it.

And at that moment, Vincent had looked over his left shoulder. It was a sidelong glance---the kind one might give a mosquito that had entered the corner of their eye. No more than a blink. Vincent had not been pushed away by the teacher. He had jumped, like a cat that notices a snake at its feet. The proctor hadn't so much stopped the final blow, as just caught the sword before it fell.

He sensed me coming. No Aura, just sheer environmental awareness. The teacher clenched his fist. I wonder what kind of training he's done, to become so sensitive to his surroundings at that age...

Then, the other Kaides children began to raise their hands. More Challenges were called.

---

---

Oh, you've definitely fucked things up now. Vincent thought to himself. The normally taciturn Rodin had called out a challenger, and it was Michael Beckman of all people. Had the half-elf been inspired by watching his youngest cousin take it to the bullies? Blaise and Aqua's henchmen had been building their reputations for the better part of two years now, after all. Maybe longer than that for some of them---sheer talent reigned over seniority within the Collegem, and as part of the Elite class the Twins even held sway over the upperclassmen in classes below their own. Did I really hype everyone up that much? Hell yeah---they're ALL going to notice me this time!

But, in the end, there was really only one person he had to make notice him, wasn't there? One person whose respect could not be earned. Vincent would claw it from the old man's hands this time. And then after he forced the words out of him...

Even Isana had challenged someone! Vincent was almost certain she'd never taken the spotlight for herself like that! And, of all the strategies, spitting right in her opponent's mouth-- "Damn, wish I'd thought of that!"

And then...Ophelia, and his sister. For the first time, Vincent's guts rolled inside him. He felt a hot shame rising like bile in his throat. Ophelia... For a moment, memories of the past---his real past---flashed before his eyes. But at the same time, he was confused and irritated. Why Sherry? I mean, she's a bitch, but why not someone else? Surely you could've gone after... And then, he realized it. No, it wasn't just that Olivia could have gone after someone else---Olivia shouldn't have been able to go after anyone! Her body was even more pathetic than his own, and any kind of exertion always sent her into coughing and vomiting fits!

But now...

Hold the fucking show. He stood up in his seat as his full sister and half-sister dueled. Those skills...Could Ophelia really do that, when we were in Collegem? His mouth gaped like a caught fish. Could it be? Was that why everyone else had suddenly started calling challenges? He had already noticed a few other things not happening exactly according to memory, but...was it just because he was messing with the timeline? Or were the others...

He turned in a slow circle, looking at all his family members around him. Most of them were concerned with Ophelia and Sherry's duel, but a few of them met his eyes. Most of the servants seemed to see him in an entirely new light---but they were looking at him much the same way they used to look at Sherry. He was getting absolute murder-dagger glares from the Twins, and "Cousin Sylas" looked like a thundercloud had come to rest over the top half of his face. But, among all of them---

@OwO "Big Sis Stella!!!"

Vincent sprinted further up the stands, stretching his short legs as far as they'd go with each step. He saw her, still in the wheelchair, sitting next to the Second Lady--- "Big Sis Stella!"

---

---

This definitely did not happen the first time, he'd definitely remember if half the family had decided to challenge in one day. Perhaps it was Vincent's decision that inspired them, but why would Vincent do that, did someone suggest it as a cruel prank, feeding him the name of a supposed 'easy target' (a description that did not fit Bennet, even if his swordsmanship pales in comparison to his boot licking).
Lucas was therefore decidedly shocked when Vincent cracked Bennet's nuts and proceeded to savage him. 14 year old Vincent was supposed to still be nice, not fight like a demon (literally, you do not want to fight goblins without an armoured codpiece).

Isana too seemed to have changed, they'd never been close, but he remembered a rather withdrawn woman, daggers are certainly an unusal weapon, how anyone could stand the lack of reach he will never know.

The Ophelia decided that Vincent apparently wasn't going to be the strangest thing to happen today and challenged Sherry, who he's pretty sure would have kicked any of their arses the first time around. And she wins, decisively.

Rodin's fight he watches closely, his cousin was a frequent sparring partner the first time around, being close in age and both pursuing the path of a guisarmier, and he was fighting very differently. There were signs of experience, the kind of conservation of energy that let a man keep fighting when the bodies were piling high, but the stronger swings had to be magic, not a skill Lucas had ever cared for (but then that applies to far more things than it should), but his cousin uses it well.

---

---

Auxentius Bardas was still a solid inch taller than Lucas at this point, an arrogant smirk was already on his face as he pushed his black hair away from his face with one hand and hefted his longsword with the other. "Not even waiting for classes to start before getting thrashed this year Lucas?"

Oh, I remember why I hated this little shit now Lucas' face remains neutral, his reply, less so "You know, I was just looking for someone moderately competent to demonstrate my own improvement against, but I think you could use a good beating yourself, now shut up and fight."

It's immediately clear as Auxentius' sword clashes into the haft of Lucas' weapon that the older boy is stronger, still, his movement was predictable, and Lucas stance easily transfers the force to the ground without moving.
It reminds him of an Orc really, strong, but certainly not his equal in skill, he'll have to remember that comparison for next time he's dragged into a childish exchange of insults, he never was good at thinking of those on the fly.

Lucas nearly lets a cut land on his arm before he remembers that he's not wearing armour today, this forces him to move from the spot, stepping backwards.
Then Lucas decides to go on the offensive, at first Auxentius keeps up, deflecting each blow, but Lucas' form is impeccable, each strike flowing into the next, each step forwards firm, a feint low finally lets a swing through, a solid strike to the lower arm, though not enough to win the fight with these weapons.
That seems to give his opponent the confidence to start talking "If that's the best you can do, then you're wasting my time." Trash talk has no place on a real battlefield, so Lucas seizes the slight distraction and thrusts the unprotected blunt end at his foot, getting a satisfying CRUNCH.
To his credit, Auxentius doesn't immediately fold, but each wince as Lucas forces him to put weight on it is an opening to be mercilessly exploited and a thrust to the throat soon leaves him gagging for air with his word on the ground.

When the referee declares the match won Lucas walks away without a word, heading towards the section of the stands his half-siblings occupy, something is going on, and he's going to find out what. It'd be nice to not ignore each other until they drift so far apart he doesn't even recognise them this time.

He walked out, and just like that, it felt as if the world opened up to him.

The sky was a pale yellow still, light itself still too mellow to sparkle against the gaps in the canopy. Almost without thinking, Ferrucio broke off from the beaten track, hopping over a ditch into thicker vegetation, before plunging headlong into the brush. These were Kaides estate lands, protected forests for the pleasure of the noble-blooded to hunt and fish as they please, but he couldn't actually recall if he had ever strode through such lands before. His heart thrummed, the anxiety of unbecoming slipping away as he continued to scramble through forest trails. Birds took flight in the distance, a chorus of chirps warning their winged kin of the bumbling fool trampling over bushes and roots. Critters scrambled up trunks and observed with curiousity and distrust, at this cloaked figure that ran without purpose, without even a desire to conserve energy.

His basket banged against his ribs as the bastard child continued to run without purpose, without direction. His lungs heaved harder than it did yesterday, and yet each breath drawn felt so full, the world brimming with a beauty that wiped away all past thoughts. It was a small thing, such a small inconsequential thing, just being able to go somewhere without fearing what was behind him, without worrying about what was before him. And yet that alone had been denied of him his whole life.

Strange, that the best thing in his life was dying.

The incline grew steeper and he scrambled on all fours, ascending the hill that he had wanted to find. Dirt clumped beneath his nails, a sharp sneeze accompanying the pollen from kicked up flowers. The earth was cool against his hot palms and he let his cloak fling off his shoulders, lost in a patch of grass behind him. Already, Ferrucio was imagining the view once he crested the hill, something that would take his breath away. Perhaps a view of Collegem Yllustre, bathed in daybreak. Perhaps just a clear view of an expanse of woodlands, a verdant bliss untouched by flame and devil-magic. Soil smeared against his face as he pushed his hair out of his eyes, the end of the hill in sight!

And when he stood there, at the top of the hill, surrounded still by trees that cut off his view of his surroundings, Ferrucio looked upon his foolhardiness and the futility of his actions, and managed to laugh regardless.

---

The guards found him there, in his nightclothes, sitting upon a hill with the crumbs of a savagely devoured meal around him. Perhaps they thought him mad.

His 'father' certainly thought him mad. Whether childish whimsy or adolescence rebellion, there was no room for either when their connection with one of the Patriarch's most promising branches were at risk. He had to sharpen up, had to remember all that he owed the House, mongrel that he was! The rant would have continued for much longer, would have likely incorporated some physical discipline, if not for the fact that Ferrucio was already slated to be running behind schedule.

The carriage awaited, as did the Collegem, and there was simply no time to get the youth into a fully-presentable state after his impromptu run through the woods. The servants scrubbed his face clean, got a pair of black gloves for his hands, and followed up with an outfit of browns and greens.

Then was the ride, a trip spent with his eyes wide open, absorbing the world behind the windows.

Then was the orientation, eyes wandering still, matching his 'present' with his 'past', seeing faces that he had thought he'd never see again, faces unmarked by the colossal loss during those years of a losing war. Perhaps a part of him despised them even now, despite what they would become in the future. But what he felt in the morning persisted still, a pleasant warmth thrumming within his person as he kept his head up, drawing in his surroundings with fresh eyes, a new perspective. This Collegem, that Estate, those lands, were never a home for him, a place that allowed him to belong...yet they were still a part of him, even now. The years spent here, how much could they have changed if he had kept his head up?

Presumably, it could change a lot, considering the sheer number of upsets that were occurring back-to-back-to-back. Even to someone like himself, it was clear that something was different. He had his memories of how people were in the past, and how they were just yesterday, and when matched together, it was clear as daylight which one was which. Back before her stagnation and the string of failures that haunted her, there was no way that Sherry could have lost so handily against Ophelia, and yet, here they were, positions swapped in an instant. Vincent, Lucas, Rodin, Isana, they all displayed something so alien to their childhood selves that there was no looking away from it.

This was a shared paradise. This had to be.

He would confirm it.

As murmurs of the 'rising of the failed generation' continued to buzz, as others of the Commoner Class wondered if they too ought to shoot their shot in these challenges that were becoming far less a noble affair and far more a desperate one, Ferrucio pushed through the throng of students to reach Rodin, all for the purpose of asking a single question.

"Did you fight the Demon Lord yesterday?"

ａｎｄ　ｔｈｅ　ｄａｗｎ　ｏｆ　ａｎ　ｏｌｄ　ｄａｙ

---

Estelle could surmise what Isana's request for meeting was about. She could wait until her siblings came to the same conclusion that she did--she would always wait for them. In response, she gave a sombre smile and nodded only to take a stoic expression take a deep breath when Isana challenged another student within the noble class.

Challenges came and went. Though, Estelle had no plans, reason, or ability to participate; she had not yet the time to recover and her class had already been lowered. Perhaps that was a blessing--she didn't need to attempt to defend her place in an impossible task. All she needed to do was cheer so long as her hoarse voice permitted. Apparently, it was not long at all--soon after Vincent's duel, she had already resigned to exhaust herself waving her arms and clapping.

Vincent's duel was shocking. Not for the result--the upset was something that she had expected the moment he uttered his challenge. No, what surprised her was just how he acted and spoke both during the duel and after he won. It certainly wasn't the Vincent she remembered.

She watched Isana's duel with baited breath. Levity was given Isana weaponized her spit. What did they teach her? Techniques that the Kaides would not tell you, that was for sure.

Ophelia's challenge to Sherry gave Estelle pause. She was significantly more vengeful than Estelle remembered. Amabilia's slights felt more like foppish posturing. And simply put, she didn't like her siblings fighting one another. The duel was one she didn't cheer for, but she still watched with solemn intent. A bittersweet relief came over her as Ophelia won, but that was soon replaced with worry as the winner left so much as a word.

Rodin's duel was equal parts expected and unexpected. Quite out of character for him, but with the result she had been expecting. Though, it was also quite childish as she winced at him slapping a bastard raw.

Lucas' duel was equally an impressive win.

In spite of his actions and words from his duel, when Vincent called for her, Estelle perked up and waved him over. Though as he got closer, a wave of apprehension washed over her. She didn't quite know what face to make or what to say to him. Her apprehension vanished as he became close enough that Estelle could make out his face. She lunged out of her wheelchair once he was within reach. Her left hand grasped his hand while the other ran through his hair. Her fingers were much softer and thinner than would remember.

"It's been a long time" she asked, her weak voice already hoarse from what little cheering she could do. "How have you been?"

Rodin took a deep breath as he walked off the battleground and made his way back to the stands. He could feel it, the stares of spectators and of his peers. Some held awe and respect while he could feel the contempt and fear stabbing him in the back. Well, that was what was expected. It was childish, slapping the brat until his face and his own hand was raw, but it was a message and he believed that message was unequivocally received. Things were definitely about to become much harder, but that's nothing to what he had already experienced. Not like he needed that experience though.

It was frustrating. Fighting Beckman made him realize that even before this he could've beaten him quite easily. So why the hell did he ever get in his own head? Hindsight was a bitch. "I really was such a fool." The half elf chuckled bitterly at his own regret.

Heavy footsteps were heard by his elvish ears as he made through the crowds of students in an attempt to return to his seat. Someone was rushing towards him and the face through the throng of students until a familiar young man stood in front of him and asked him the very question that under any other circumstance he would have asked too. Still, it had done nothing to dull the shock that Rodin felt. Not from the fact that he was even asked the question, but the fact that he was asked in a place with prying ears.

His eyes just for a split second were filled with surprise and his muscles tensed though it was replaced with a well trained smile. "Greetings to you Ferrucio." He bowed politely "You must've dreamed up quite a fantastic dream, dear cousin, though it is quite a coincidence since I had the same dream as well. However, one could hardly say that this is the setting to talk about such things now is it?"

While it would have been easy to brush off Ferrucio, the poor bastard didn't deserve it. In a way he could relate to him. They were both mongrels so to speak with Ferrucio a bastard child and Rodin being a literal mongrel born between a human and elf though he could say that his dear cousin drew the short end of the stick from what he could remember. "Why don't you come with me? I'm sure mother and father would be happy to see you. Well, if you can bear what I will anticipate to be an unpleasant atmosphere thanks to Uncle Sylas and company, but that's nothing new." He chuckled knowingly.

His eyes focused on another particular familiar figure. One that he had sparred with quite a bit back in his first life. Rodin shouted, "Lucas! Come over here! We have much to talk about!" The half elf waved his other cousin down.

@ERode @Remram

---

Lucas hears his name a little sooner than expected and changes course to approach Rodin and the older boy it takes him a moment to recognise as Ferrucio.
He smiles as he replies, perhaps he's not the only one. "I suspect we have quite a lot to discuss indeed my Cousin. You've certainly picked up some new tricks since we last sparred, better form than I remember and your spell certainly wiped the smile of that smug bastard's face. Then again, if today's anything to go by you're certainly not the only one."

"What's the point of this pretense?"

It came out harsher than he expected, but Ferrucio simply didn't see the point of stepping around the issue, of delaying the conversation, when such a response alone was already enough to confirm things. There were others who had remembered the reversed future. With Rodin and Lucas both alluding to this, as well as the changes in behavior that he witnessed in Ophelia, the mongrel-son could even conclude that only those who made it to the final fight, perhaps even those who only witnessed the clash between the Demon Lord and the Patriarch, were gifted this...what?

Reward? To be burdened by what is to come, and to desperately chase after a way to undo things?

He looked towards Rodin, then to Lucas.

"I've suffered such awkward encounters for too long before, Rodin, and I've no longer the stomach for it now." His eyes narrowed in contemplation. "If you'd like to share a table at the cafeteria though, I wouldn't mind. Though from my perspective..." The Patriarch matched the Demon Lord while injured, and that was after 11 years of growing older, of exhausting himself in battle. "...convincing the House to strike preemptively may make for a simpler solution than letting it all spiral out of control."

It really didn't matter to him who listened in. Let them draw their conclusions.

In his previous life, he was simple. This time, he didn't mind being mad.

Oh great, the first one sent back in time he speaks too and he doesn't give a flying fuck about anything.

Rodin could feel a headache come along. This day really was already too long. "Pretense is what shields us from unsavory rumors of us being madmen and I for one cannot afford to be seen as one for the sake of my own family. I've acted out of character enough as it is." He understood that Ferrucio really had nothing to lose and maybe it was for the best if he got the chance to live a bit more freely than he possibly ever could in his past life. Rodin though had no such luxuries. Still, there was hope to at least talk some sense into his cousin in some respects of his line of thinking.

"It's also just as equally possible that we'll just make things worse if by some miracle we were able to convince them. We are an impossible existence and the effects that our actions may bring about unwanted change when we are not ready." Surely there were consequences to their sudden presence in the past. They were beings that were outside of fate, so whatever meddling they played now could have disastrous consequences until they knew more. Well, that was something for another time though. For now, he could at least appreciate having his life back for now.

Rodin smiled at Ferrucio and patted him on the shoulder. "But I do understand your distaste. I would be grateful to share a lunch table with you. The offer still stands though. You'll always be welcomed by my family."

His gaze then fell upon Lucas who was just standing there the whole time. You know, after Rodin called him over. "Ah, my apologies. I called you over, but I ended up ignoring you. As you can see, the topic of conversation is quite heavy, but I am sure you are quite aware of it already. After all, your skills are far more honed than before. As is your tongue. Where did you learn to talk like that?"

@ERode @Remram

---

Did he always have the subtly of a brick or is that new?
He replies to Rodin first a hint of a smile on his face as he meets cousin's gaze, "No need to apoligse cousin, I'm just glad not to be the only one, as for that little slip of the tongue, four years with the heavy infantry was quite educational." The smile drops "Well, among the few survivors anyway." with that he turns to Ferrucio "As for why we're subtle, it's like Rodin says, accusations of madness will be far harder to escape than the accusations of incompetence we will no doubt soon dispel. Nor, honestly, do I know what to advise if we could get them to listen, unless you discovered some secret weakness we all died before anyone could use, they'd likely crush us as easily as the last time. But you know what I do know? How to get stronger than any of us were last time."