The dormitories were just up ahead, but in the way were two students having a public spat. More than a few other examination hopefuls had gathered in a rough circle to watch the two go at it.

  And Mal? Mal was right there in the crowd, watching.

  There were two boys. One went to the left, one to the right. The one on the left had noticeably pointed ears and bright, choppy red hair. His green eyes seemed to reflect the color of the surrounding grass, despite the frustrated expression on his face. His clothes were a bright mix of green and white, puffs on his legs that vaguely reminded Mal of marshmallows.

  Mal would recognize that face anywhere. The future Herald of glory, one of the most deadly and powerful mages that Mal had ever had the displeasure of fighting against: Rolam Knilum.

  And he was currently in the middle of a schoolyard fight with some random teenager.

  Granted, Mal would give said random teenager credit. The teenager had one of the most glorious haircuts Mal had ever seen. His blond pompadeour dwarfed his own head, long luscious locks spilling over his shoulders. He was dressed in something a bit more traditional—some sort of navy-blue suit with frills around the shoulders.

  “You take that back!” Rolam’s fist clenched tightly. “Or else I’ll . . . I’ll—”

  “You’re what?” The other boy put his hands on his hips and laughed. “There’s nothing you can do. Fight me? Sure, and ruin your chances of being accepted. Go ahead, throw the first punch. I’m sure the examiners would love to hear all about it.”

  “That’s right.” A boy behind the first stepped forward and cracked his knuckles. “Go for it.”

  The third boy was twice the size of the other two—and he was very clearly on the side of the blondie with the pompadeour.

  Rolam’s face turned bright red, and his hand seemed to twitch like he was about to jump forward and strangle the other boy.

  Mal had two choices.

  He could either move on and pretend he didn’t see any of this . . .

  Or he could get involved.

  Obviously, siding with the random racist jerk was a no-go. What would even be the point? What would be the benefit? Mal was pretty sure there would be none.

  But siding with Rolam . . . Now there was an intriguing idea.

  Right now, Rolam didn’t seem like much. A D-rank core and middling magic control. Mal remembered that during his school years, Rolam had been more or less forgettable.

  But the boy had potential. In six years, he would be strong enough to challenge Mal in head-to-head combat.

  Sure, Mal had managed to squeeze out a win, but it’d been a damn close thing.

  How delightfully twisted. To get one of the heroes’ greatest companions, the Herald of glory himself, in his debt.

  There was a certain poetry to it that Mal enjoyed.

  Having made his decision, he stepped forward.

  “Master?” Lusia said.

  “Just a moment, Lusia. I’m sure that we can all come to a compromise.”

  To Mal’s surprise, there were a few seconds of quiet, and Lusia’s footsteps joined his own as she fell in line behind him.

  Then one of her briefcases unlatched and all of Mal’s clothes tumbled to the floor.

  Mal turned and glanced at her along with half the crowd of students. She remained completely still before she dropped to her knees and hurridly stuffed the clothes back into her suitcase.

  Both of the boys turned to look at Mal and Lusia. The one who’d been insulting Rolam stared at Mal.

  “Who are you supposed to be?” he asked. “And what the hell is wrong with your maid?

  Mal shrugged and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Just a curious observer. Can I ask what the issue is?”

  “Stay out of it,” the boy sneered and glared at Mal. “This isn’t any of your business.”

  The giant boy standing to the right nodded. “Get away, or you’re going to hurt for it.”

  “Unfortunately, you made it my business as soon as you did this in a public area.”

  The boy rolled his eyes.

  “There’s nothing stopping you from walking away. I would advise you to do so.”

  Rolam looked back and forth between the boy and the newcomer. He hadn’t said anything, there was a clear expression of confusion on his face, his eyebrows furrowed together like he wasn’t sure what to make of Mal.

  “Anyway, you were talking about how the school would never side with the guy because he’s half elf?” Mal shrugged and let out an easy smile. “I think the situation changes quite substantially when they find out the extent to which you were goading him.”

  The boy’s expression shifted from condescension to a more calculating look. He straightened himself up and looked at Mal, eyes focused.

  “Are you saying you’d be one of these witnesses?”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “I’m sure someone here would be. Either way, a little bit of a miscalculation on your part.”

  The boy continued to stare at Mal before he finally clapped his hands together, and his face broke into a wide grin.

  “I was wondering where I recognized you from,” he said. “You’re the F-grade, aren’t you? And that’s your little magicless maid, too.”

  Magicless?

  Now that was rare. F-grade cores existed, Mal had one. They were uncommon sure, but you’d run across one once in a blue moon.

  But being outright magicless? Mal had only met two who had such a condition.

  Once again, Mal cursed the fact that he’d wasted his first life ignoring this information.

  Mal tilted his head. “You’ve heard of me?”

  “Of course I have.” The boy leaned in, his eyes contemptuous and his lips lifted into a smirk. “Who hasn’t heard of you? The heir to a dying family, the latest in a long line of failures. Somehow, you managed to surpass everyone who came before you.” The boy clicked his tongue and shook his head. “An F-grade core, something never before seen in a noble family in a thousand years. I’m almost impressed.”

  Mal squinted his eyes. There was something extremely familiar about this boy.

  “Have I met you somewhere before?”

  The boy’s smirk widened, and he leaned back. He put his hand to his chest in a dramatic fashion.

  “But of course,” he said. “My name is Hypode, first heir to the Riant family. You might know me as one of only five A-rank cores entering the examination this year.”

  “No, not that. I don’t ever remember hearing about that.”

  Hypode frowned sharply and let out a scoff.

  “Unsophisticated swine. Typical that your family out in the boonies has no idea of current happenings.”

  “Hey, leave them alone! This is between you and me!”

  Rolam marched up to Hypode and put himself in front of Mal. Mal blinked, unsure what to make of this event. Less than an hour ago, they’d been fighting to the death. Now he was apparently… defending him?

  Time travel was weird.

  “And the F-core needs a halfbreed to defend him. This is just all sorts of pathetic.” Hypode looked up at the sky, his expression turning thoughtful. “The most interesting part is that despite your mongrel status, both of your parents’ cores are high quality. You should be stronger than what you are, and yet you’re a mere D-rank core. With a B-rank and an A-rank, the odds of getting a D-rank or something close to… what is it, 35 percent? Seems the odds were in your favor, but you still managed to screw it up.”

  Rolam’s face had squinted together, his body shaking more and more as Hypode talked.

  “I don’t even know what you’re talking about!” Rolam shouted. “Stop speaking in ancient languages and let’s just fight!”

  “It’s not ancient languages, it’s just numbers.” Hypode scoffed and crossed his arms. “You really are quite stupid, aren’t you?”

  Rolam was about to launch forward when Mal put his hand on his shoulder. Rolam looked back in confusion.

  Mal stepped forward and looked Hypode in the eyes.

  Mal wasn’t angry. He hadn’t taken any of Hypode’s insults to heart. They were bratty schoolyard taunts, nothing more. Mal had faced far worse than that.

  Nor was Mal angry on Rolam’s behalf. Mal had been enemies with the man an hour ago. Now they were strangers. Mal was a lot of things, but compassionate and empathetic enough to get angry on behalf of a stranger? No.

  No, he wasn’t angry.

  He was just annoyed.

  The guy just kept on talking and talking and talking—and it was all just this bizarre mixture of virulent and boring. Mal would be impressed if not for the fact that the man’s voice seemed to grate against his ears like scraping meetal.

  Mal furrowed his eyebrows together.

  Didn’t this guy die from choking on a grape or something? And that was after he opposed the heroine because it was hurting his bottom line?

  Mal’s eyes widened, and his jaw opened.

  “I actually remember you now!”

  Hypode blinked, then quickly straightened his back and popped up his shirt. “Of course you did. You probably heard of my many achievements—”

  “Your mother,” Mal said. “I’ve heard of her.”

  A flicker of unease went through Hypode’s eyes, so fast that if Mal hadn’t been looking for it, he wouldn’t have noticed it.

  “Yes, my mother.” Hypode said. “She’s a very impressive figure. She’s assisted my father in ruling over our domain with great wisdom—”

  “Yeah, she got in trouble for sleeping with the butler, didn’t she?” Mal paused. “No, butlers. Plural.”

  Rolam blinked, and his jaw dropped. “What?”

  The students in the back, who’d been chatting away with each other and giving commentary, suddenly stopped speaking.

  Hypode froze for a split second before he quickly composed himself and let out a laugh. “That’s ridiculous. My mother would never do that.”

  “Yeah, it’s been going on for years,” Mal said. “To the point where I’m pretty sure it’s up in the air whether you’re actually your dad’s legitimate son. That’s why he avoids you, yeah? Every time he sees you, he’s reminded of his wife’s unfaithfulness. Unfortunately, he can’t divorce her, as that would cause a massive scandal. Nor can he delegitimize you, because you’re too useful. An A-rank core in his family? He can’t give that up.”

  Hypode had turned pale white. He took a few steps back. “H-how did you know that?”

  “Buddy, it’s an open secret. If even I, Mr. Backwater Boonies, know about this, I wonder if your friends know too.”

  It was actually a closely guarded secret. The problem was that the secret had gotten out in the future, and Mal was shamelessly taking advantage of this fact.

  “But they would’ve told me!” Hypode shouted. “They wouldn’t talk behind my back about this, they respect me!”

  “Sure, but…” Mal shrugged. “Yeah, maybe they just never heard about it.”

  Hypode continued to take frantic breaths. Behind him, Mal heard a few voices whisper.

  “He didn’t deny it,” a girl with pigtails said.

  “I think it might actually be true,” a young man said. “That’s the only thing that makes any sense.”

  “I can’t believe I’ve never heard of this—”

  “I do vaguely recall something about his mother being caught in the act by a scullery maid.”

  “But that was confirmed to be false, right?”

  “Apparently not.”

  The giant boy standing next to Hypode shook his head quickly. “Don’t believe this random person! What’s wrong with all of you?!”

  Hypode looked back and forth between the various whispers. His eyes locked back onto Mal, and his face twisted with fury, his teeth grinding against each other.

  “You,” the word came out like a spider’s venom. “How dare you!”

  Mal tilted his head and widened his eyes, putting on his best innocent look.

  “Me? What did I do?”

  “You did that on purpose! You ruined my reputation!”

  Of course, Hypode was 100 percent correct. This was exactly the outcome that Mal had been hoping for. Mal wouldn’t admit that, though.

  “I think this is kind of your own fault,” Mal said. “Nobody would’ve believe me if you hadn’t obviously confirmed it. Too bad about your dad, though. Hope you two can reconcile someday.”

  Hypode’s eyes lit up, and the stink of mana permeated the air. He reared his palm back, and the wind seemed to curve in a spear around his hand.

  Force punch? That’s actually a little bit advanced. Wrapping your hand in mana in order to accelerate the force, velocity, and mass of the attack. Impressive for a first year.

  Hypode ran forward and swung his fist out as hard as he could. “Take this, you damned F-rank!”

  Mal had a few options. Against a physical attack—even a magically enhanced one—a normal ranged spell would win every time. But Mal’s core was horrendous and Hypode would easily overpower him.

  A shield spell would be useless here, as physical attacks bypassed magical barriers.

  Well, sometimes the obvious solution is the best.

  Mal stepped back and dodged the strike.

  Hypode’s fist sailed forward and struck air. He nearly tripped before he caught himself.

  “Stand still, damn you!” he shouted.

  “Why would I do that?”

  Hypode growled and held out his palm. An Arcane Sphere—a ranged spell—formed in front of him.

  Mal summoned a shield spell. The timing would be tricky, but if he activated it at just the right time, then something quite amusing would occur.

  Hypode shouted and the spell launched forward. Mal’s shield sprang up and the two spells collided in a show of light and sound.

  And then the sphere burst apart.

  Energy bounced off the shield and it had only one place to go: backward.

  And right into Hypode's face.