Linda's back was slick with sweat.
The oppressive aura rolling off the two of them—the boy and the instructor—was unnatural.
'What is going on?'
She couldn't fathom why the two acted that way, least of all Giuseppe, considering he shouldn't even be able to see Mavena.
"Bring up the file on those two at the front," Mavena orders calmly, though her voice shook with something.
"Right away," Linda responded, trying to maintain her professionalism. With a flick of her fingers, two translucent holographic panels emerged.
[Marcus Vathen]
-Student ID: 0508-9146-8157-0476
-Combat Ranking: #2
-Academic Ranking: #3
[Giuseppe Castellano]
-Student ID: 0418-0418-0956-7148
-Combat Ranking: #1
-Academic Ranking: Unranked
A tense silence followed. Then, Mavena let out a low laugh.
It started small, barely a breath—then grew into a low, manic chuckle. She raised a gloved hand over her mouth—her nails digging through to claw at her skin. Her grin threatened to split her face in two.
The laugh was unknown, perhaps amusement, perhaps recognition—Linda didn't know, but what she did know, was that her new boss was crazy.
"Haha…Ha…HAHA!…HAHAHAHAHAAHA!!…" Mavena's psychotic laughter continued.
"Aldric! You better have a good explanation for this!" She shouted.
Linda raises a brow in confusion.
'…Did I miss something?'
***
"What the fuck are you grinning about, psycho?" Arthur questions Giuseppe as they walk towards the Arena.
"Nothin'~," Giuseppe replies with a playful lilt.
His head snapped to the side suddenly, eyes zeroing in on a pair of students leaning against a tree, fingers laced, faces glowing with the sweet innocence of first love.
Regardless, their moment is cut short as Giuseppe ruins it for no reason.
"He's cheating on you," Giuseppe said, his voice loud enough to cut through the serenity like a scalpel.
The couple froze mid-laugh. The girl's expression twisted in confusion, while the boy looked like someone had just pulled the pin on a grenade.
Giuseppe was already walking again, not even sparing them a second glance.
He turned his head toward a bright-eyed girl sitting on a bench, completely immersed in her phone. Probably watching some silly video, smiling ear to ear.
"Your parents don't love you," he said without missing a beat.
Her smile faltered. Her fingers froze. She looked up, blinking in disbelief, trying to process what she'd just heard—and from who.
Giuseppe then locked eyes with a random guy lying on the grass under the sun, earbuds in, vibing to some music, just enjoying the day. Since it might be his last, considering what is happening tomorrow.
Giuseppe tilted his head as if a bird started explaining philosophy in front of him.
"Ay, ay, ay, who the fuck told you you could be happy, huh?"
The guy sat up like he'd been tasered.
By now, Marcus and the others were long accustomed to Giuseppe's "daily quota."
Marcus gave a sigh that was half amusement, half exhausted resignation.
"I swear, he gets worse by the day," Arthur shook his head.
"It's like his joy is directly proportional to everyone else's suffering," Tandav let out a confused chuckle.
"He calls it emotional redistribution," Daniel points out.
The group continued on, leaving behind a trail of awkward silence and confused stares, Giuseppe kept walking ahead, hands in his pockets, smiling to himself significantly brighter.
To him, it wasn't just mischief or cruelty.
It was a philosophy.
'Wait a minute, does that make me a philosopher? Do I get higher access to the library now? Can I go to SJ's office?.. Hehe… AJ will never be safe~.'
***
Once Giuseppe completed his morning ritual of harassing a few innocent students—entirely unprovoked and with unrequited enthusiasm—the group arrived at the colossal Combat Arena.
It loomed over the campus like a sleeping titan, easily spanning the width of several stadiums. It was like a giant colosseum from ancient times.
Steel pillars twisted into spiralling forms like frozen wind, and the polished marble exterior shimmered faintly under the winter sun.
The group settled into the back row of the massive spectator stands, joining the rest of the first-year students who filled the arena with chatter.
Then, the chatter died.
A tall, broad-shouldered, middle-aged woman entered the arena with silent confidence. Her long, curly white hair cascaded down her back, wild yet regal. A heavy European longsword hung from her waist—its black-and-gold hilt matching her outfit.
Marcus looks slightly disappointed when he sees who it is—or rather, who it isn't.
Giuseppe, naturally, noticed the shift in his expression. He didn't comment, though. Instead, he redirected his attention toward the instructor. His gaze sharpened.
Marcus glances at Giuseppe, already knowing what he is about to do.
Giuseppe's grin faded into something more thoughtful—unsettling, even. His eyes, black like a starless void, deepened in colour as something unseen stirred within him.
'I know that look all too well…'
"A viper..." Giuseppe muttered under his breath.
And just like that, he saw her true self—not merely with his eyes, but something else.
Coiled around her was a massive, emerald-scaled serpent, ancient and expressionless—watching with cold, unblinking eyes.
This was her Fighting Spirit—the purest, raw manifestation of her soul and individuality.
The others hear Giuseppe's whisper but pay it no mind. They've grown used to his cryptic remarks whenever he meets someone new he finds interesting.
They'd learned not to ask questions.
After all, it was the same when he met them.
When he first saw Marcus, he called him a panther.
Tandav, a sphinx.
Arthur, a lion.
Daniel, a fox.
No one really understood what those titles meant. Not even Marcus, who had spent the longest time with him. But they all knew one this:
Giuseppe Castellano was never wrong.
Not when it came to combat.
A real nexus brain.
In the end, it was Giuseppe who brought them all together—misfits, prodigies and loners—and forged them into something more.
He didn't pick them randomly.
He saw things others didn't, or couldn't.
Mavena steps onto the arena floor with the deliberate grace of a seasoned warrior. Her piercing gaze sweeps across the gathered students, sharp as the edge of her blade. She stands still for a moment, letting the weight of her presence settle over them like an approaching storm. The murmurs in the crowd die down.
Then, she speaks.
"Welcome to my arena. Consider this your proving ground."
Her voice is deep and steady, carrying across the massive arena without effort.
"Some of you think you're strong. Some of you think you're smart. A few you of might even think you're untouchable. Let me be very clear—none of that matters here."
She paces slowly, her measured steps echoing against the floor.
"In this arena, strength is not a number on a screen. Intelligence isn't just a tool to get good grades. Here, you will bleed. You will fall. Some of you will break. But those of you who endure…" She stops, placing a hand on the hilt of her longsword. "You might just graduate from your current 'Bitch-status.'"
She smiles as she unsheathes the blade with a slow, deliberate motion. The black-and-gold hilt gleams under the arena lights, the steel whispering as it leaves its scabbard.
"Now then…" A faint smirk tugs at the corner of her lips. "Who wants to show me what they're made of?"
***
"Whoo~, she sure has the mouth of a sailor," Arthur releases a whistle of amazement.
"How did someone like that get hired?" Daniel says perplexedly.
"I don't even care. I like her, so she is staying even if I have to beat up the principal himself," Giuseppe says with a wide grin.
"Yeah, I think you forgot what happened when you tried that before. You came back battered and beaten," Marcus corrects him.
"Maybe he got beat so bad, he got permanent brain damage?" Tandav adds, his tone suggesting he was seriously considering it.
"Yeah."
"You know what? Maybe."
"Sounds about right,"
The rest of the group agrees a vein threatens to pop on Giuseppe's face—but before he can lash out, a firm voice silences the student's chatter.
"Silence!" Mavena shouts, power evident in her voice.
"Listen up," Mavena's voice cuts through the air like a blade. "When I call your names, two of you will step into this arena—and you will fight."
She lets the words hang for a moment, her gaze sweeping over the students like a predator sizing up prey.
"I don't want hesitation. I don't want excuses. I want to see skill, power, and some fucking heart," Her grip tightens on her sword. "If what I see doesn't impress me—if you waste my time—you're out. No second chances. No mercy. Nullus."
She steps forward, eyes gleaming with cold amusement. "So when I call your name… pray you're ready."
"Tandav Soman, Athur Rain—step forward," She orders, her voice sharp and commanding. She lifts her sword, the tip pointing directly at them.
_____________________________________________________
Author Note:
;)