Chapter 11- The Dog Defends Its Master!

Gabriel advanced, each step echoing like a challenge to the fear that still clenched his insides. The crowd roared, their voices intertwined in taunts that seemed like stone walls rising against him. But something new burned in his chest now: a cold fury, tempered by years of secret training with old master Alden, whose teachings on unarmed combat he repeated like prayers. This has to stop, hammered in his mind. Whatever it takes.

The closer he got to the center of the courtyard, the sharper the insults became.

"Look who's here! The vampire's lost little puppy!" shouted Vladvaldo, drawing cruel laughter.

"Did you come to defend the damsel in distress?" Ulric, the werewolf, mimicked a sickly-sweet voice, his yellowish eyes fixed on Greta, who watched the scene with clenched fists. "Will he bark if we get close to his precious?"

Lysandra, the silver-haired elf, laughed scornfully:

"Careful, Vladvaldo. The human is furious! He's going to read us a poem to death!"

Gabriel stopped before Vladvaldo, the vampire with crimson eyes. The air smelled of blood and earth, dampened by the morning rain—a detail he noticed too late. Ignoring the taunts, he took a deep breath and, in a movement as fast as the lightning he had learned to imitate, landed a solid punch on Vladvaldo's face. The impact echoed like thunder, silencing the courtyard. Vladvaldo staggered, his nose bleeding under his velvet glove, his eyes wide with shock.

Before the vampire could react, Gabriel spun and struck Ulric on the chin. The werewolf fell with a thud, blood trickling from his mouth. Murmurs of disbelief rippled through the crowd. How dared a human challenge the most feared students in the school?

Lysandra advanced, her staff glowing with green energy. Gabriel dodged the first blast, the heat of the magic burning his cheek. He ran towards her, but the ground betrayed his feet. He slipped, falling uncontrollably.

In the midst of the fall, his left shoulder collided with Lysandra's legs, propelling him forward. For an absurd instant, his gaze fell under the elf's flowing tunic: pink panties with cute little bears, satin bows, and silly smiles.

"Wow!" Gabriel gasped with nervous laughter, raising his eyes to Lysandra. "Teddy bear panties? Who would have thought, huh?"

Greta let out a guttural laugh, followed by Lira. Even some of the stern-faced vampires hid smiles behind their hands.

Lysandra, however, froze. Her pale face flushed red, not with fury, but with shame. How dared that human...? But something in her chest—a strange warmth—contradicted the anger.

"That's not…" she tried to snarl, but her voice came out shaky.

Gabriel, still on the ground, smiled crookedly.

"Relax, elf. I promise I won't tell your secret."

Vladvaldo, recovering, roared with fury:

"You'll pay for this, human!"

But the crowd now laughed with Gabriel, not at him. Even the Dwarves stomped their feet on the ground, chanting:

"Teddies! Teddies!"

Lysandra retreated, her fingers tightening around her staff. That humiliation burned, but something else bothered her: the lightness in her chest, the almost-smile that struggled to be born. No, she thought. I will not smile because of a human.

But it was too late. Gabriel, dirty with earth and blood, stood up, offering an ironic hand to Lysandra:

"Next time, I'll warn you about the slippery floor."

She glared at him, but, for a second, her fingers almost touched his.

"Sorry. The floor really is slippery today," Gabriel repeated, his voice laced with deliberate irony.

Lysandra hesitated. Her fingers, trembling with anger, hovered over Gabriel's outstretched hand. How dare a human touch me?, she thought, but something in her chest—a forbidden curiosity—made her give in. With a brusque movement, as if touching hot coals, she accepted his help. The contact was brief, but a magical spark ran through their arms, making Lysandra recoil, horrified. Ancient magic? Impossible… Could the Fay goddess's mark be more than a torment for Gabriel?

Vladvaldo, however, didn't see the exchange of glances. With a roar, he lunged at Gabriel, his canines bared. Ulric joined him, his wolf tail bristled, already in full lupine transformation. But before they got close, Greta moved. Her fists, trained to protect the orc royal family, hit the aggressors with surgical precision. Vladvaldo fell like an empty sack; Ulric, with a pathetic whimper, collapsed beside him.

"Nobody touches the fluffy human," Greta growled, her red eyes glowing with protective fury.

Seraphine, hitherto immobile, finally reacted:

"Since when do you fight?" she asked Gabriel, her voice mixing disbelief and something akin to… pride?

Lira, wagging her tail frantically.

"He's crazy… just like you, Seraphine."

Before the discussion could escalate, elves stormed the courtyard. The oldest, Eldrin, one of the caretakers, pointed to Gabriel, Greta, Seraphine, Lira, and Lysandra:

"Detention. Now!"

As they were escorted to the detention dungeon, Lysandra cast one last look at Gabriel. Behind the disdain, there was a silent question: Who are you, human? Gabriel, however, merely smiled. In that moment, between public humiliation and the magical spark, he realized something crucial: Faytheria was no longer a world of mythical creatures and victims. It was a chessboard, and he had just moved his first piece.