Kael's encounter

Ilka, her figure shimmering in the dimness of the cavern, yawns atop Kael's head. His body, sprawled across the cave floor, bears the weight of his ordeal — a map of anguish and brute force. She gazes down at his face, worn and ashen from the torment he's endured. "Tsk, if only I could sense energy," she mutters to herself, a hint of regret in her voice.

Gracefully, she floats above him, her ethereal form stretching in a satisfied manner reminiscent of a cat waking from a nap. "Come on, Kael, wake up already! We're barely on the second day. I'm sure the aura in your brain is stabilized... well, for now at least." She drops herself onto his head, settling comfortably amidst his tousled hair. Her eyes narrow in thought. If my calculations are accurate, he should be stirring soon. And then... another rampage. It's a pity we're stuck in this cave. The forest would have been a grander stage for his theatrics.

Drawing herself closer to his face, she pokes his cheek, her form flickering with every touch. "Hey, are you mad at me? Your brain's a tangled mess right now, and thinking straight is off the table for the entire week."

Kael's eyelids twitch, and a groan escapes his lips, signaling his slow return to consciousness. Spotting this, Ilka's grin widens. "Aha! There's some life in you yet!" she exclaims, her voice dripping with mischievous glee.

However, Kael's revival isn't serene. He suddenly clutches his head, an agonizing scream echoing through the cave, "AHHH! DAMN THIS PAIN!"

Ilka tugs at his hair impatiently. "Come on already! Don't you want to let loose, to unleash your fury? To destroy everything?"

Kael, still consumed by pain, stumbles to his knees. He seems to be fighting an internal battle, one where primal instincts vie with excruciating pain. His fingers dig into the cave's dirt, and with great effort, he begins to climb the wall, each move a testament to his sheer will.

"Let's go! Let's go have some fun in the forest!" Ilka encourages, sensing Kael's predatory hunger. She knows he's operating on instinct now, like a wild animal driven to the brink. This thought makes her giggle. "Kael, the apex predator of this cave. What a sight!"

Yet, just as Kael seems to gain momentum, he crumples, collapsing on his knees again, the weight of the pain proving too much. He clutches his head, another roar of anguish resounding, "AAAAARGHHH!"

Ilka, observing him, shrugs, a smirk playing on her lips. "You know, I've endured many things in my existence, but I'm genuinely relieved that I don't have to experience this again." Her voice is light, but Ilka hides the smirk from her lips.

As Kael's consciousness fuses with his primal instincts, his surroundings blur into a whirlwind of targets. His fists, powerful and unyielding, strike anything and everything in his path — trees splinter, animals scatter in terror. The forest transforms into an orchestra of chaos, with each blow resounding like a crescendo.

Ilka, still perched atop Kael's head, clings to his hair, reveling in the reckless ride. Her ethereal laughter punctuates the air, a sharp contrast to Kael's roars of fury. "That's it, Kael! Release it all! Find something powerful to vent on!"

A hapless rabbit, caught in Kael's peripheral vision, becomes the object of his ravenous attention. Its ears perk up, sensing imminent danger, but it's already too late. Like a predator locked onto its prey, Kael lunges.

Ilka chuckles, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Ooh, chase it down, Kael! Dinner is served!" She's almost salivating at the prospect of the hunt, the thrill of the chase.

But as Kael bursts through a thick underbrush, an unexpected figure comes into view. Another hunter, perhaps just as intent on capturing the same rabbit, now stands directly in Kael's path.

Momentarily taken aback, Ilka tilts her head, studying the newcomer. A tall, wiry figure, clad in worn leather armor, his dark hair cascading past his shoulders, tied back loosely. The subtle scars and tattoos that mar his exposed arms suggest he's no stranger to combat. His eyes, however, a piercing shade of cerulean, display a mix of confusion and mild annoyance.

Ilka snorts disdainfully, unimpressed despite the man's formidable appearance. "Well, well, look who we have here. Did Kael invite him for a playdate and forget?" she thinks sarcastically. She eyes him critically, her expertise in martial arts allowing her to evaluate his skills. "Hmm, maybe as strong as Kael, but those techniques... Sloppy, amateurish, and so predictable. Tsk, tsk, how utterly disappointing."

As if reacting to the sudden intrusion, Kael, without missing a beat, delivers a powerful blow to the stranger's midsection, sending him soaring through the air. The forest reverberates with the impact, birds taking flight in a frenzied flurry.

Kael, in his hunger-driven haze, returns to his original goal — devouring his catch raw.

Ilka drifts towards where the man landed, her curiosity piqued. "Who is this mysterious forest intruder?" she muses.

Groaning, the stranger slowly picks himself up, brushing off dirt and leaves. "What the hell was that for?" he exclaims, clearly bewildered by the unexpected attack. He then notices Kael, who is voraciously tearing into the rabbit. His eyes widen in disbelief, "Are you eating that raw? You're not even human, are you? Thank the gods, I thought the stupid professors found me."

Cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders, the stranger approaches Kael, clearly ready for a confrontation. From his belt, he draws a set of intricate chains, their metallic links shimmering menacingly in the dappled sunlight.

Ilka, smirking, observes the unfolding drama with keen interest. "Oh, this is going to be good," she thinks, her voice dripping with anticipation.

Ilka's grin is practically palpable, a mischievous glow that seems to emanate from her very being. Floating leisurely above the fray, she remarks, "Oh, let's see how this plays out, shall we?"

The stranger, his cerulean eyes fixed intently on Kael, analyzes him, the wheels in his mind visibly turning. The shimmering chains in his hand twitch with anticipation. "This is definitely a human... but not like any I've ever seen. Is it possible the academy's dabbling in some dark arts?" He gives a dry chuckle, twirling his chain whip. It's an unusual design, almost esoteric in its structure. But the true surprise comes when Kael's pain-ridden scream pierces the forest's serenity.

"AHHH! WHY?!" The sheer agony in Kael's voice causes the stranger to jolt back, his chain whip stilled, and confusion evident on his face.

For a split second, he wonders if he's deluded, but the unmistakable waves of both mana and aura emanating from Kael confirm the reality before him. "What in the gods' name...? Why is his aura and mana on a similar level? What the fuck. All I wanted was some damn herbs. Is a simple job too much to ask for in this forest?"

Above them, Ilka yawns exaggeratedly, clearly not feeling the tension below. "Come on, get on with it! Put on a show!" she urges, her ethereal voice dripping with mischief.

The sound of the chain whip draws Kael's foggy attention to the man. With widened eyes, the stranger mutters, "Damn it, is this some mutated goblin or something?" He retreats a step, clearly wary, as he senses Kael's internal struggle. The momentary lull fills him with uncertainty. "This is getting weird... What's my move here?"

But before he can decide on a course of action, Kael lunges. The unexpectedness of the move catches the stranger off guard, and he feels the full force of Kael's punch slam into his gut. The impact sends him flying backward, but with admirable reflexes, he uses his chain whip to latch onto Kael's foot, using the momentum to swing Kael through the air.

Choking on the taste of blood in his mouth, he grumbles, "Damn, didn't see that coming." Quickly, he tries to ensnare Kael with the chains, hoping to immobilize him mid-air. But Kael, even in his pained state, proves to be no easy prey. He grasps the chain firmly, using it to hurl the stranger across the forest.

Ilka's laughter fills the air, echoing eerily among the trees. "You absolute retard! Did you think you could best my disciple so easily? He may not be sane right now, but he's still under MY tutelage." Her voice is dripping with arrogance and pride as she revels in the unfolding drama below.

★  ★  ★  ★  ★

Inside the sprawling, opulent chambers of the Academy's student body president's office, Raelle sits surrounded by piles of paperwork, her fingers gingerly massaging her temples. The room, usually a hub of activity and decision-making, feels unusually tense today.

"V and his requests," she sighs, pushing away an official looking document. "Why he needed that extension, I'll never know. But," she smirks, her gaze drifting to the kitchenette at the far end of her office, "at least he makes a mean roast duck. Next time he comes around, I'm definitely 'borrowing' some of his cooking."

The gentle chime of the office door disrupts her thoughts. In strides Elith, his usually composed demeanor replaced with visible frustration. "Dammit... V wasn't lying," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Liam's on his way. Wants a 'chat,' as he put it. He'll be here in moments."

The duo promptly shift to the plush sofa arrangement, settling in, anticipating the upcoming confrontation. Raelle, taking a moment to enjoy Elith's apparent discomfort, lets out a soft, almost mischievous laugh. With a playful glint in her eye, she stretches out her hand toward him.

Elith quirks a brow, feigning ignorance. "What's that for?"

Raelle's smirk grows even wider, devilishly so. "Oh, come on. Don't play dumb. The bet? About whether V was just being paranoid or actually onto something?"

If Elith was an actor, he'd win an award for his utterly convincing portrayal of innocence. A single bead of sweat betrays his anxiety. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Perhaps the stress of your office is making you imagine things?"

Raelle's hand moves swiftly, grabbing Elith's shoulder with a strength that belies her slender frame. His grin remains, but the twinge of pain in his eyes is unmistakable. "Such a shame," he drawls, though the strain in his voice is evident. "But I do think you deserve something for your hard work." From his pocket, he produces a hefty pouch that clinks promisingly.

His internal monologue laments, That was supposed to last me the month! Yet, outwardly he maintains his calm facade.

Raelle's eyes light up at the sight of the pouch, and her devious grin turns triumphant. As she takes it from him, the weight of it confirms her suspicions - a cache of platinum coins. "This will do wonders for the Magic Theory club's budget," she muses, already dreaming of the new equipment and supplies they could buy. 

-

In the comfortable embrace of the plush sofas, I settle next to Raelle, our earlier banter creating a lighthearted atmosphere that's abruptly shattered by the sudden entrance of our guest. The door swings open with force, the brazenness of it clearly indicating it's Liam. It's not unusual for the pompous lot to make such grand entrances, but with Liam, it's almost predictable.

Raelle doesn't even glance up, her regal demeanor unshaken. "I didn't expect the prince to pay us a visit," she murmurs, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She leans in, her voice dripping with excitement, "Are you, perhaps, considering joining the student council?"

I can't help but sigh inwardly. Why does she insist on entertaining these mind games? She's brilliant, yes, but sometimes I think she just enjoys the verbal jousting a little too much. I opt to stay quiet, preferring to observe than to partake in the unfolding drama.

Liam, in his typical arrogant manner, reaches into his bag and produces a bottle of wine. My eyebrows raise in subtle disbelief. Does he have no respect for the rules? Raelle herself had put the ban on alcohol in place. For him to nonchalantly pour himself a glass in front of us... it's more than just audacious.

Before taking a sip, Liam offers a mocking, "My apologies," and fills glasses for both Raelle and me. It's a transparent power move, designed to make us uncomfortable. Raelle, with that unfathomable resilience of hers, simply smiles, "Thank you."

As I catch a whiff of the rich, aged wine, I can't suppress my exasperation. This entire scene is meant to belittle us, make us feel beneath him. I catch Liam's smirk, and there's no doubt he's reveling in this self-made superiority. A thought crosses my mind: He doesn't realize what he's stepping into. 

I grip the armrest of the couch slightly, my knuckles white with suppressed anger. Liam takes a long, satisfied sip, and I can already see the self-congratulatory speech forming in his mind. He's about to decline joining the student council, and I brace myself for Raelle's reaction.