I gave a sneaky glance toward Celia.
And, yep.
She was enjoying this way too much.
The way her lips were twitching upward—like she was barely holding back a grin—told me everything I needed to know.
'She's got her favorite student already. Damn teacher's bias.'
Groaning beside me, Art finally sat up.
He winced as he pushed himself off the ground, brushing dirt and debris off his coat with a casual flick.
His uniform looked like it had been through a blender, but the guy still tried to look dashing. Priorities.
He gave me a sidelong glance. "Should we… proceed?"
There was a thread of genuine doubt in his voice, which coming from Art, meant something was seriously off.
I sighed and stood too, wincing as my ribs reminded me of Zyon's "friendly" welcome. "Yeah. We started it—and look, he bled. That means he can be beaten."
I said it with confidence.
But inside?
Yeah, no chance in hell. I knew that crystal clear.
