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Cassian smiles. "There you go."

The wolf realizes it too. Frustration creeps into his movements. His breathing grows heavier. His strikes become wider. Less precise. The crowd begins shouting advice. "Left! He's baiting you! Don't chase him!" The wolf ignores all of it. He rushes forward with a burst of speed. Too much speed. Rhyven finally steps in. One movement. One. His hand catches the wolf's wrist. His shoulder turns. His hip shifts. The wolf's own momentum flips him cleanly onto his back. The impact echoes through the pit. Silence. Then— An explosion of cheers.

The entire fight has lasted...Perhaps two minutes. The wolf stares at the cavern ceiling. "Seriously?"

Rhyven offers him a hand. "You were angry."

The wolf accepts it. "You made me angry."

"I know." Rhyven answers.

"You did that on purpose."

"I did."

The wolf dusts himself off. "That's rude."

"It worked." Rhyven replies.

"It did." He laughs despite himself. The betting table erupts into chaos.

Rowan throws both hands into the air. "I TOLD YOU!" She scoops another pile of coins toward herself.

A second-year groans dramatically. "You've robbed me three weeks in a row!"

Rowan grins. "You keep betting against Corvell."

Dax intercepts Rhyven before he reaches his abandoned meal. "I made thirty silver." He grins. "You owe me pie." Rhyven answers.

Dax sighs theatrically. "You are the least dramatic dragon rider alive."

Rhyven shrugs. "I work very hard at it."

Students continue congratulating him as though he'd done something spectacular. Rhyven accepts every compliment exactly the same way. With a nod. Or a shrug. Or nothing at all. He doesn't linger. Doesn't replay the fight. Doesn't soak in the attention. Within moments, he's back at his table eating pie. As though the last minute never happened. I find myself smiling.

"What?" Nyra asks.

"I think I understand." I answer.

"Understand what?"

"Why nobody bets against him." Cassian chuckles.

"It isn't because he's stronger." I continue. I watch Rhyven quietly cut another bite of pie while Dax continues talking enough for three people. "He doesn't fight to win."

Cassian raises an eyebrow. "What does he fight for?"

I don't answer immediately. Across the room, one of the younger students approaches Rhyven hesitantly. He says something I can't hear. Rhyven sets down his fork. Listens. Actually listens. Then stands. Walks with the boy to the edge of the pit. The crowd has already moved on to the next match. No one notices them. Rhyven demonstrates the throw he used only moments ago. Slowly this time. Breaking every movement into pieces. The first-year tries. Fails.

Rhyven adjusts his stance by an inch. The boy tries again. Better. Again. Again. Until the movement finally works. Only then does Rhyven return to his food. "He fights to teach." I say quietly. Cassian follows my gaze. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

The night stretches on. Music grows louder. The next fights become increasingly ridiculous. Two sirens spend five full minutes trying to outmaneuver one another without throwing a single punch, earning more laughter than applause. A Medusa narrowly defeats a wolf by sheer patience.

Rowan somehow wins another round of betting despite openly admitting she has no idea what she's doing. "I read people."

"You read luck." Someone mutters.

"I read profitable people."