Upon leaving the cafeteria, William's companions gathered around him, laughing, joking, relaxing their shoulders after a heavy meal. The tension of the last few hours seemed, for a moment, forgotten.
"What now?" Thom asked, stretching with a grimace of satisfaction. "There is still time before Language class."
"I had plans," Dixon said with a sly smile. "The second year sisters, the ones by the fountain this morning... one told me if I wanted to 'chat.' And you know what that means."
"Chat?" Theo burst out laughing. "If that blonde wants to 'chat' with you, I'm a descendant of the King of Drakenwald! Is it not the redhead? She's hot..."
"The redhead is mine," Cedric interrupted, crossing his arms. "She has more curves than a roller coaster and a mouth that..."
"Can we stop thinking with our dicks for five minutes?" William's voice cut them off like a sword, dry, direct.
The four fell silent. William looked at them, serious. In his eyes there was no mockery or rage, only a cold warning.
"Do you really not understand? If we do not pass the exams, if we do not reach the top ranks, it is not just that we will be expelled. They will execute us. Us. Our families. There is no second chance. The only reason the nobles have not already wiped us off the map is because we are inside this damn school. But once outside, if we do not achieve a rank in the army, if we do not serve... we are dead."
Silence. An uncomfortable breeze blew between them, as if even the air had decided to fall silent.
William did not wait for an answer. He turned and walked towards the training ground. His steps were firm, determined. The rest followed him, wordlessly, as if their bodies understood what their minds had not yet processed.
On the field, William did not go to the strength area. Instead, he took a long bow of dark wood and several quivers full of arrows. He stood in front of the shooting line, took a deep breath, and aimed at a target fifty meters away. Five shots. Five misses. Not an arrow grazed the center.
"Angel," he murmured, closing his eyes. "Activate Eternal mode."
"Activating," the voice in his mind replied, serene as ever.
Immediately, William's posture changed. His body tensed, his gaze sharpened like a knife blade. The bow became a natural extension of his arm. He fired one, two, three... more than ten arrows in seconds. Each one broke the previous one. He fired two at the same time, then three. He spun the bow, creating an arc with the strings in full motion, and still hit the center. Each impact was a dry, perfect strike.
Around him, the other students who had already begun training stopped to watch. Some clenched their fists, others bit their lips. Thom lowered his axe. Cedric dropped his spear. The difference was abysmal.
William, however, did not smile. He did not enjoy his demonstration.
"Angel, play both recordings. I want a deep analysis."
"Comparing executions... The angle of the right elbow was incorrect by 17%. The string tension was irregular. Your foot stance has a deviation. You fail to release your fingers. In Eternal mode these errors are corrected automatically. Without assistance, your chances of accurate impact decrease by 64%."
"It would be a waste not to use Angel's assistance just for a matter of pride... Angel, instead of activating Eternal mode, just simulate the arrow and give me a visual approximation of where it would impact. Let's call it... Eaglesight."
"Understood. Activating visual interface."
A small golden cross appeared in William's vision, floating in the air, marking the estimated point of impact. He began to shoot again, this time without Eternal mode. With each arrow, he focused on the position of his fingers, the tension, the angle of his arm, his breathing. Sometimes he hit. Sometimes he did not. But each attempt was firmer, more precise.
Hours passed. He changed targets. He practiced in motion, rolling, spinning, shooting from the ground. With each minute, his errors decreased. He did not need to be a master. He just needed to be mortally effective.
He thought about the army. If he got there, he could not always rely on close combat. He needed to attack from afar. Survive. And to survive, he had to kill before being reached.
At the end of the afternoon, he put down the bow. His fingers were reddened. The muscles in his shoulders, tense. But his gaze was serene.
The bell for the last period rang. They headed to the literature classroom. As always, Professor Aurus awaited them with an imposing presence. This time not with tensions or magical energy, only the cold authority of someone who knew too many secrets.
"We begin with basic Ikaris grammar," he announced without raising his voice. "Present tense. Action verbs: to watch, to speak, to march. Conjugated forms for I, you, and he."
"Velir, veles, velet," the students tried to copy the letters, with difficulty.
"Now nouns. Singular and plural. Tharn means sword. In plural, Tharnak."
William listened, attentive, taking notes quickly. Ikaris was similar to some ancient dialects he had heard in his grandfather's library... and Angel knew it.
"Archive this lesson. Create link with Remika," he whispered internally.
"Done."
The class continued with written exercises focused mainly on sending quick messages during a campaign. Simple phrases: march south. Regroup. Attack. Some students did well. Others, not so much.
When the class ended, the students quietly stood up and headed to the cafeteria in silence. Upon arrival, the cold war began again, some still casting distrustful glances at each other. Tensions remained latent. The calm was only a thin layer.
William ignored all that. He ate as if there was no tomorrow, with an almost inhuman speed, without looking at anyone. When he finished, he stood up and headed to the west tower, where Professor Aurus's office was located.
The professor was already waiting for him, surrounded by ancient books and several parchments spread out on his desk. Some written in Remika, others in Volgaris. The air inside the room was dense, charged with knowledge that seemed to breathe on its own.
"Come in, William," Aurus said, without looking up. "We have much to study tonight."