Page 22 of Interion

Breno clenched his fists, so I stepped in front of him.

“It's not worth it.” I pressed my palm against his chest to hold him back. The last thing we needed was a suspension. “Please, don't get into trouble.”

Behind me, the four boys mocked me, saying my begging turned them on. I heard my friend take a deep breath.

“It's not worth it,” Breno said, as if trying to convince himself. Then, while the idiots laughed like a pack of hyenas, he led me away. “I'd love to make them swallow every word, but today isn't a good day.”

“What's different about today?” I asked, curious. Not that I wanted Breno getting into trouble on my account—he'd done that plenty in the past and it only led to more problems.

“The director is coming.”

“The director? Why the hells is the director coming today?” I tried to remember if there was a physical test scheduled, and a chill ran down my spine. I hated tests. “Is there an exam today?”

“No. I heard he's coming to pass along some messages, so just stay quiet and hold your position.”

He'd barely finished the sentence when the director arrived. The fae was a blood elemental, rigid as stone and tall as a bear. The wrinkles around his eyes told us he was somewhere around 600 years old. When he entered through the double doors, the conversations and murmurs stopped and everyone snapped to attention, as if they were marionettes controlled by invisible strings. At his side was a young Amperian woman with black skin—as dictated by Ampér's genetics—and braids interwoven with golden threads tied in a large bun atop her head. She regarded us with curiosity.

The director stopped in front of the class. His gaze swept the training room. From the way his hand kept opening and closing at his side, I could tell that whatever he'd come to tell us made him nervous. When his inspection ended, he struck his fist against his chest and called out:

“Stronger than the walls!”

“We endure!” we shouted in unison.

That was Interion's motto. Each nation had its own motto, but since everyone here lived within the walls, they had to salute using the internal customs.

“At ease!” he roared, and the twenty students shifted to rest position immediately. “I've come to convey some important messages. But first, I'd like to congratulate you on the excellent results you showed last semester. The nation is proud to call you its sons and daughters.”

“HOO-RAH!” we shouted once more.

“This semester, we'll have two changes.” He paced back and forth, observing our reactions. “The first is that this class will receive a new student.” He pointed to the Amperian at his side. “Aish is a fourth-year student, but she's been showing advanced results on her tests, so we decided to place her with you. I expect you'll make her feel at home.”

We looked at the new girl, who emanated a peculiar aura. Although she was even shorter than me and her smile showed friendly interest, something about her said she wasn't someone to mess with. Maybe it was the sharp gleam in her eyes or the way she stood perfectly still, like someone reading the room, waiting for an attack.

“The second piece of news is that we'll have a change of trainer.” The director straightened his posture, appearing nervous. “Cauê will be serving with the army this semester—he left on a mission this morning with the 8th Cleanup Squadron. So today, I have the honor of introducing your new instructor, who will be with you until the final test.”

His gaze swept the room but didn't find what he was looking for. A bit awkwardly, Lionel called out:

“You can come up here, General.”

My heart stopped for a second, then skipped two more beats and did somersaults inside my chest. In slow motion, I followed everyone's search for the new trainer. I prayed quietly: “Gods, please don't let it be him.” I scanned the room, but my instincts weren't foolish, and I couldn't deny the presence that pulled my eyes to the back of the room.

At the entrance to the hallway leading to the locker rooms, a shadow moved, making me snap to attention. It was clearly darker than normal. I caught a flicker in the darkness. Then he stepped out from behind the director’s shadow.

Every student held their breath because standing before us was the legend of Interion: the soldier with the most battlefield victories, the elemental wielding the dark power of death, known across the nations as “The Shadow.” And there I stood, frozen in front of the director and the general, looking like a complete idiot, neck-deep in serious shit.

Chapter 7

As soon as the director left the room, I stared at Zion, making my outrage clear. I glanced around, thinking this had to be some kind of joke—that any second a TV crew would burst in with cameras to reveal a tasteless prank. While I was stuck in my denial phase, the general ignored me, busy getting acquainted with his new class who, as I suspected, had shit for brains, since they all gazed at him with the same reckless eagerness young people have when eyeing something dangerous.

“Lorena Castanov, sir, twenty-one, fire elemental, level 500, from Interian.”

“Adrian Sigmund, sir, twenty-two, invisibility elemental, level 350, from Interian.” Adrian, on top of being a pain, was also the director's son, which made the situation twice as bad.

Zion strolled around calmly, asking everyone the same questions, then assessing their physique before moving on to the next recruit—no small talk, no comments—which only made him more extraordinary in the class's eyes. I clenched my jaw when I noticed the sighs from the girls around me, the eyelashes batting nonstop in his direction, the cheeks flushed with blatant interest. I balled my hands into fists, took a deep breath, and told myself this was just a biological reaction and none of my business. Just the damned biological compatibility of the infernal bond. I exhaled.

“Breno Lutiève, sir, twenty-three, blocking elemental, level 600, from Interian.” Zion studied him with the kind of attention I'd seen in the eyes of apex predators. My friend swallowed hard, but then the general turned and headed toward me.

I finally got a good look at him: he was dressed like a trainer, wearing the vest with the academy's circular emblem on his chest and even holding Cauê's whistle. I sighed. What did I expect? He really was the trainer.