Chapter 67: Chapter 67: Wouldn’t you like to know Liane looked at both of them and smiled. "The school will send people to look for all the students. I’ll update you once I get something. You can leave."
Iris was the first to leave. Rhian followed her, but as he reached the door, Liane called out to him. He turned back.
She was smiling.
’Huh. Didn’t expect that.’
"I see you’re finally changing," she said, studying him with open curiosity.
Her gaze lingered on the scales peeking from his wrist, then flicked to the unnatural paleness of his skin, the slitted pupils, the green-streaked hair. "Anything interesting?"
Rhian opened his mouth to answer—
But she cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Since your bloodline is surfacing, we can start one-on-one sessions." Her smile sharpened. "And with recent... developments, I’ll be ramping up your training. Go on, then."
Rhian nodded and stepped out, finding Iris waiting in the hallway.
"You okay?" he asked.
She took a deep breath, fingers tapping restlessly against her thigh. "Yeah... I guess I am."
They walked in silence for a moment. Then Rhian nudged his chin toward the training wing. "Gonna test out some stuff. Wanna join? We’ll meet the others later."
Iris exhaled, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the day. "Sure. Need to let off some steam anyway."
She smiled.
The training room was empty—no surprise, since most students were still recovering from the portal trial.
Rhian and Iris took the first available one, the automated lights flickering to life as they entered.
As they moved toward the changing rooms, Rhian found himself wondering what the second-year sector looked like.
The academy kept each year separate; aside from occasional glimpses in shared spaces like the commissary or library, students rarely crossed paths with those outside their year.
When they reconvened in the training area, Rhian hadn’t bothered with a shirt—anything he wore would just get shredded anyway.
He’d tied his hair back into a loose ponytail, the green streaks catching the overhead lights.
Iris emerged in a sports bra and fitted training pants, her scaled forearms wrapped tightly in cloth bandages.
Her black hair was pulled back just like his, her movements sharp as she stepped onto the mats.
Rhian eyed her. ’Huh.’
"What?" Iris flicked her ponytail over her shoulder. "Checking me out?" Her scowl dissolved into a smug smirk.
Rhian exhaled through his nose. "No. Just wondering if you’ve got eyes like mine." He tapped the corner of his own slit-pupiled gaze. "Since you’ve got scales too."
She nodded. "Yeah, but I don’t use them. When I do, my vision shifts—heat signatures, weird depth perception. It’s disorienting." She rolled her shoulders. "So, what’s the plan? Sparring? Heard from Ash you and Nia go at it like wild dogs."
Rhian rolled his eyes. ’Of course Ash couldn’t keep his mouth shut.’ But he smirked anyway. "Not to brag, but it’s not much of a contest anymore. Just hit E-rank."
Iris scoffed. "Tch. Big deal. You’re still slower than me."
Rhian’s grin faltered. She wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t tested his speed since ranking up—hadn’t had the chance.
And Iris had always been fast. The air between them crackled with challenge.
Iris cracked her knuckles. "Prove me wrong, E-rank.
"Rhian’s smirk returned, edged with anticipation. "Gladly."
Rhian smirked as Iris dashed toward him, her legs a blur of motion. He wasn’t planning to go all out, but he also wasn’t planning on losing—or going easy.
To his surprise, even as Iris accelerated, his eyes tracked her effortlessly. The world around her seemed to slow, his slit pupils contracting as they locked onto her movement. She wasn’t faster than him anymore.
*Looks like ranking up wasn’t just for show.*
Iris lunged, her fist snapping toward his ribs—quick, precise, no wasted motion.
Rhian twisted, letting the punch whistle past his side as he countered with a kick aimed at her midsection.
She gasped, barely managing to flip backward out of range. Her eyes narrowed.
Rhian didn’t give her time to recover. He closed the distance, pressing forward with a series of punches, forcing her to block and weave.
Each impact sent small tremors up her arms, her muscles protesting against his raw strength.
’She’s good,’ he thought, ’but not strong enough.’
Iris shifted tactics, flowing around his strikes like water, countering with sharp kicks at his legs and sides. One grazed his ribs—
THUD.
Rhian staggered back from the force, barely keeping his balance.
Iris smirked. "Still too slow—huh?!"
Her foot suddenly sank into the mat like it was stuck in tar. She yelped, nearly losing her footing as she yanked her leg free—but Rhian was already moving, sweeping her legs out from under her.
She hit the mat with a grunt.
"What was that?" she hissed, flipping back onto her feet.
Rhian said nothing, just smirked.
Iris charged again—faster this time, her movements erratic to throw him off. She ducked under his guard, slamming a punch into his stomach.
He flinched almost coughing, but didn’t, catching her next strike mid-air with frightening ease.
For the first time in a long time, Iris felt outmatched in speed.
But she wasn’t done.
With a sudden twist, she wrenched free, spinning into a snapping kick aimed at his temple. Rhian barely raised his arm in time, the force still rattling his bones.
"Still not enough," he taunted, kicking off the floor to counter.
Iris braced—
And then, out of nowhere, her back foot skidded—just a bit—like the floor itself had tilted.
That half-second stumble was all Rhian needed. His hand locked around her wrist, yanking her off balance as his other arm hooked under her leg.
THUMP.
Iris hit the mat again, this time with Rhian looming over her, his knee pinning her torso down.
She struggled—just once—then let out a sharp exhale.
"Fine. You got me." She glared up at him. "But what the hell was that? The floor didn’t just move by itself."
Rhian grinned down at her, his slit pupils gleaming under the training room lights.
"Wouldn’t you like to know?"