Chapter 34 (seeking the final piece)

        Two days later, at the lecture hall, 

everywhere buzzed with anticipation as 

the air thickened with murmured and 

rustling papers.  Students clustered 

together as they formed their team like 

scattered constellations across the dark 

sky. 

          Mark and Drake stood at the back of

the hall, like a solitary island in the 

chattered sea, scanning the room in 

search of a member to complete their 

team. "I'm sorry," Drake muttered, his 

voice tingled with bitterness. "Because

of me, no one wants to join our group." 

His shoulders slumped, pulled down by 

the weight of his words. 

     Mark placed his right hand on Drake's 

shoulder with a gentle touch, like a 

bridge over troubled waters. "Don't 

blame yourself for this." His tone was 

steady, almost soothed. "Even if the 

incident at the Mana and Aura Check-In

 room had not happened, they would 

have found another excuse not to join." 

        Drake, lost in the shadow of doubt as

his gaze reminded him of downcast, until

 Mark's expression suddenly changed.

He smiled at Drake; his eyes brightened

as his hidden worry melted. 

    "Drake, we've gotten someone to fill 

the last spot." He said, with a tingled of 

pride in his voice. Drake looked up, his 

confused expression on his face as he 

stared at him. 

        "What did you mean?" He asked, 

searching Mark's eyes for an answer. 

Mark gestured to the side of the hall; his 

smile widened. Drake followed his gaze 

and saw Victor Freya standing alone. 

       Like them, she had also been 

neglected because of her timid nature, 

which made her a quiet outcast in the 

bustling room.

   Mark and Drake gazed and nodded at 

each other simultaneously. They both 

stepped forward, approaching her, with 

Mark taking the lead. "Hi. I'm Mark, while

 my pal here is Drake." He pointed at 

Drake. 

       Freya looked down, avoiding eye 

contact. "Yeah, everyone knows who you

 two are," she said, scratching his right 

hand nervously.

        "Hmmm," Mark cleared his throat.

"Weapproached you, hoping you will join

our team. What did you think?" He said.

Freya clenched her gown tightly in her 

fist; she struggled to speak. "You may 

regret it later, because I'm not confident I 

can be of much help." She said as her 

voice wavered.  Mark firmly grabbed her 

hands.

 Freya rased her head in shock; her red 

face met with Mark's gaze. "You don't

need to worry about that; just do your

best and leave the rest to us."  Freya's

heart raced; her face turned pale as her

eyes darted around.

This is her first time anyone has

acknowledged her, even at home, where

she's often called a loser. She pulled her

hands quickly away from Mark's grasp,

turning her face away. 

        "I'm sorry, I don't think I can meet 

your expectations; you should look for 

someone suitable for your team." 

        This time Drake stepped forward to 

speak. "What about this? You also know 

about my condition," he said, standing 

composed. "Instead of running away or 

afraid of overloading others with our 

responsibility, why don't we walk hard 

together and build our strength instead of

 giving in to our shortcomings? Freya 

glanced at them for a moment; her eyes 

shifted in-between them, then she

slowly stretched out her hand, gesturing

for the team registration form. Mark

handed her the form; he looked at Drake,

and they both smiled.

           She filled in her name, and as she 

handed back the form to Mark, a slight 

smile flashed on her lips. They settled 

down to have discussed their next step

in horning their teamwork as the

mumbled of anticipation bustled from

the hallway. 

"We should cave out a day to polish

up our teamwork." Drake suggested; his

voice rang with enthusiasm.

            A silence settled over them 

comfortably, broken only by the distance

murmured of voice. "Monday through 

Wednesday, is Drake and I  weapon

mastery class, so those days are out of

the picture?"  Mark stated. 

     Their gaze shifted to Freya for her 

opinion.  "Yeah, I'm also tied up in 

alchemy class in those days as well,"

 Freya confirmed.

"How about Thursday and Friday? 

Those two days are free of academy

obligations.  We can use those days to

polish our teamwork." They all gazed at

each other. Their eyes brightened with

shared purpose, and they nodded in

agreement. 

        "We should start moving to our

various classes before it's too late."

Drake said. They separated for their

respective classactivities.

The training and evaluation centre

located at the south wing of the academy

building is divided into five mastery

training centres, which are sword

mastery, first mastery, arrow mastery,

spear mastery, and dagger mastery

training centres. 

        Drake entered the sword mastery 

centre and admired the 15-square-meter

 room. At the back of the room, two large

weapon racks stand, one filled with 

wooden swords and the other with steel 

swords.

        There is exercise equipment, such

as dumbbells, barbells, kettlebells, and 

weight plates, on the left side of the 

room, while a training ring for sword 

sparring among students is on the right 

side. 

     There are 11 students presently

alreadyin the room, including Ronan and

Victoria. With the arrival of Drake, it 

made them 12 in total.

         Ronan turned, his gaze fixed on

Drake as he approached. It is head-

swivelled from side to side. "Who do we

have here?" Ronan called out, drawing

the attention of other students. "If I 

remember correctly, you're a spellcaster.

 What business do you have here? Or 

you have been rejected?" He said,

louder, pointing his finger at Drake. The 

room erupted in laughter, except Victoria,

who pretended not to notice. 

          Drake nodded in a pity manner and

turned away, provoking Ronan. "Stop 

trying to act cool, you bastard." He 

sneered. Drake slightly turned his head 

towards him, frowning and, unknowingly, 

emitting a faint pressure from his body. 

Ronan shuddered; fear surged through 

him as sweat beaded on his cheeks. "It's 

none of your business." Drake restorted

and turned, walking away.

         Ronan clenched both his teeth and 

fist, hating himself for succumbing to 

Drake's pressure. Renon strided towards

 Drake, fist clenching and face contorted

in anger, driven by the need to retaliate,

 and washed away his shame. He was on

 his way when a voice cut through the 

tension. 

            "Hops. Sorry for being late. I hope 

everyone is ready for the class." A young

 man in his mid-thirties, wearing blue 

armless t-shirts and trousers, walked into

 the room. He surwived the scene, then

 stepped closer, turning his back at the 

ring as the students lined up in rows of 

six facing him, backing the exercise 

equipment. Both sides glancing at each

other.