The moment the results were announced, Clyde was already at my side.
No hesitation—he grabbed my elbow and dragged me away.
"Lord Silius, where are you rushing off to?" Blocking's mocking voice rang out behind us. "Alan and I spent the entire day together. Isn't it a bit rude to leave without giving us a chance to talk?"
Clyde's grip tightened.
He picked up the pace.
I didn't dare say a word—I just let him pull me along.
I didn't even know what I'd done wrong, but the guilt was already there, pressing down on my chest.
What the hell is wrong with him?
Why is he always pissed—and why the hell do I feel guilty because of it?
He only let go once we reached the room.
I stayed by the door, waiting for an explanation.
Clyde turned away.
Silent.
Just staring off into nothing.
The air in the room grew colder. That was all I needed to know.
He was furious.
I swallowed my irritation and forced it down.
Lately, he'd been losing control more and more often—and I had no intention of being on the receiving end of that.
"I don't like any of this," Clyde finally said.
"You think I do?" I snapped.
The air shifted slightly—he was reining himself in.
"That was dangerous."
"You mean Blocking—or everything?" I exhaled sharply. "Because there hasn't been a single damn safe day in these fights."
"What happened in the parking garage wasn't random," he said. "I just can't tell whether your father was involved… or—"
He cut himself off.
Didn't finish.
I was exhausted.
Days of constant tension. Training before that. The looks. The pressure.
Yeah.
I was worn the hell out.
But stopping wasn't an option.
Even if I wanted to—I couldn't.
"Look," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady, "I'm not in the mood to play guessing games. Either finish the sentence—or stop acting like the world just ended."
"If Marcus wasn't involved," Clyde said, "then your theory is getting dangerously close to the truth."
"What are you talking about?"
"You figured out what Kogon Blocking is, didn't you?"
"…A demon."
"Yes." He watched me closely. "Now tell me—how many people would dare attack a demon openly?"
I went quiet.
My brain stalled.
The silence dragged on until Clyde sighed and continued:
"No one at the top would risk it. Breaking the agreement would be signing their own death warrant—and their family's along with it. So what does that leave?"
"If it's not your rebellion—or some group of suicidal idiots…" I muttered, walking over to the bed and dropping onto it, "then there's only one option left."
The realization clicked.
"…another demon."
"Exactly," Clyde said, sitting down beside me. "Which means something's changing. Demons don't usually interfere with each other. They divide territory. Stay out of each other's way."
He paused.
"They either cooperate—like Blocking and Maurice—or they don't touch each other at all."
"Then if someone attacked Blocking or Maurice…" I frowned, piecing it together, "it means another demon is trying to take their territory?"
A brief pause.
"But then why use normal people? They knew about Specials—but none of them used any abilities."
"Demons have always had followers," Clyde said with a shrug. "Worshippers. That's nothing new."
"But even then…" I shook my head. "There's no way another demon wouldn't understand how useless normal humans are against that kind of power. There were two high-level entities there."
"Maybe it wasn't meant to succeed," he said. "A warning. Or disposable bodies—to test strength. To study abilities."
"I don't like that."
"Neither do I."
Silence settled between us.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
"And honestly?" Clyde added after a moment. "As bad as it sounds—I hope it was your father."
I let out a dry, humorless laugh.
"I doubt he'd act that impulsively. You said it yourself—no aristocrat would go against demons openly. And I definitely wasn't the target."
"I hope you're wrong."
I looked at him.
"Aren't you the one who wants to break their control?" I said. "If demons start tearing into each other, wouldn't that make things easier? Push them out of the Administration?"
"I'm afraid it'll do the opposite."
He didn't explain.
And I didn't ask.
I was done thinking.
All I wanted was sleep.
My room.
Silence.
But that wasn't happening.
Another round was starting in an hour.
The fourth trial.
"Doesn't matter," I muttered. "We can't change anything right now. And I've got a bigger problem."
"The next stage," Clyde said. "You should eat."
"I'm not hungry," I admitted. "But I'll force something down. Want to go to Kristina and Robert? I don't feel like sitting around doing nothing."
"I could offer something more interesting," Clyde said with a faint smirk.
I didn't even bother asking what he meant.
I headed for the door.
He followed.
—
"Where do you even get that kind of energy?" I muttered, pushing my plate away.
Robert looked like he was about to explode.
"They've got to be kidding!" he snapped. "Fourth trial already?! We just finished the third!"
"The world isn't fair," I said flatly.
"Since when do you sound like this?" he shot back. "From the moment you entered the academy, you acted like someone who never gives up. And now you sound like some bitter old man."
I didn't answer.
Because he was right.
But that didn't change anything.
The thoughts were still there.
Heavy.
Dark.
And every day, it was getting harder to keep them buried.
"Let's go," Clyde said, cutting through the tension. "It's time."
We stood.
No one spoke.
We walked in silence to the next arena.
This one was indoors.
Concrete walls. Concrete floor.
Nothing else.
Two entrances on opposite sides.
The space itself was circular—about half the size of a football field.
One look—
and my mood dropped even further.
No surprise.
"Don't tell me this is one-on-one," Robert muttered, frowning—voicing exactly what I was thinking.
"I hope you're wrong," I said quietly.
Because today—
I wasn't ready for that.
No sleep.
Too much strain.
And something else—
something heavier—
dragging me down from the inside.
There were no weak candidates left.
And we barely knew each other's abilities.
Which meant—
I didn't stand a chance.
If I wanted to survive this round—
I'd have to push myself way past my limit.
"Relax," Clyde said, squeezing my shoulder. "You'll handle it. Like always."
I nodded.
But I didn't believe it.
Not this time.
This time—
Clyde Silius was going to be disappointed.
…Why the hell does that even matter to me?