Yesterday was a disaster in every sense.

First, the speech I had been preparing for an entire day got hijacked by the synchronization with the real Deculein. His emotions bled through my words and turned my carefully planned performance into something uncomfortably genuine.

Then came the classes.

Advanced magic theory and its historical origins. A separate lecture dedicated entirely to the weaknesses between polar opposite affinities and classes.

Every single subject was the equivalent of science and math crammed into one brutal session. Or to put it more accurately, it was far worse than both combined.

Everything went straight above my head.

And the stares. Everywhere I walked, eyes followed. Pitiful ones. Curious ones. Judgmental ones. It was pissing me off so much that I barely managed to hold myself back from beating the face off one punchable looking student whose expression alone made me want to commit violence.

To top it all off, they announced the teams for the assessment. The same assessment happening today. The same reason I was currently sitting inside a carriage traveling toward an unknown location.

The test was simple in concept. A quest that needed to be solved. The tricky part was that we weren’t given any information about it beforehand. All I knew was that it was rated five stars. Highest difficulty. Reserved only for the most powerful figures in the academy.

The entire hero party was listed. Along with Aria and a few others.

However, Charlotte didn’t make the cut. She didn’t showed up even that slacker gave up a very important exam.

Can’t imagine why.

So the team was me, Angelica, Aria, then Marie and Teresa who carried polar opposite personalities, and lastly an annoying character named Tudar. Angelica’s cousin. Her uncle’s son.

This guy was the definition of too much. Too extrovert. Too loud. Too friendly. Every sentence out of his mouth made me want to stuff my axe handle between his teeth.

But he also knew his limits. He didn’t have the courage to bother Aria even once, which robbed this journey of any entertainment which I was craving for.

Looking at the seating arrangement, Aria had claimed an entire bench for herself. Legs stretched. Eyes closed. Elegance radiating off her like she was too divine to share oxygen with the worms surrounding her.

Angelica sat alone on the opposite side. Composed. Still and her luggage beside her to not allow anyone to sit beside her just like Aria.

Teresa and Tudar occupied another bench together. Teresa had those murderous eyes every time her gaze landed on me. She was Charlotte’s loyal friend. Every glance carried the promise that she hadn’t forgotten what I did to her precious princess.

Tudar beside her was busy being himself. Chatting. Gesturing. Laughing at his own jokes. A high noble whose personality carried zero noble traits.

And then there was Marie. The sword princess’s daughter. Sitting right beside me because she had no other choice.

This girl was painfully shy. She flinched when I shifted my leg. Flinched harder when I crossed them the other way. At this rate she would pass out if I sneezed.

’Could this assessment arc lead me to the fourth hero?’

The thought hit me suddenly. If it didn’t, I was doomed. Because how else was I supposed to find this person?

’Could it be Tudar?’

I studied him for a second. The overly friendly personality. The cringe-inducing social skills. The kind of guy every novel would disguise as the hidden powerhouse protagonist.

’No way. Life can’t be that generous to me but still it was a possibility.’

My eyes drifted to Aria. Seated in elegance with her eyes shut. Refusing to acknowledge the existence of anyone around her.

’I need to lock in. Time is running out. My life is on the line. Diana’s soul is trapped. And I refuse to have a death this pathetic.’

The carriage rocked as the road roughened. Through the window, while I was still looking towards Aria.

I spotted something.

A woman. Surrounded by a crowd. People closing in on her from every side like wolves circling a wounded animal.

I stood from my seat.

Marie jolted beside me, visibly startled. I didn’t care. I forced my way out of the seat, pushing past her legs without a glance or an apology. Because something inside me had snapped.

I moved toward the front and shouted through the opening to the driver.

"Stop the carriage. Right now."

He looked back, reins tight in his hands. "But sir, we can’t stop until we reach the destination. It’s strict protocol for security rea..."

"Will your protocol matter more than your life?"

He understood the threat. I could see his throat bob as he swallowed. But he didn’t move.

THWACK.

I kicked the wall between us hard enough to crack the wood. The entire carriage shook.

He stopped the carriage.

I turned toward the window, dismissing every single stare inside. Walked past Aria, pushing her legs aside without a word.

She was about to react. I could feel her mana twitch. But then she saw my face. Whatever anger she was carrying dissolved the instant she registered what was burning in my eyes.

Something that far surpassed hers.

I looked through the window at the scene unfolding outside.

The woman was on her knees. Her clothes were more patches than original fabric. Stitched together so many times the base material had lost its identity.

Her hair was a tangled, unwashed mess that hadn’t seen water in what looked like weeks.

In front of her on the dirt lay a piece of dried meat. Filthy. Covered in dust.

She went for it anyway. Reached out with trembling hands. Pushing aside whatever dignity she had left just to grab something that most people wouldn’t feed to a dog.

A man stepped forward. Wearing an apron spotted with flour. A cook.

SLAP.

His hand cracked across her face. The meat flew from her grip and tumbled further into the dirt.

I grabbed my axe and started walking off the exit.

"Snap out of it, Deculein." Angelica’s voice came from behind me. Firm. Controlled.

"We’re on a mission. Right now we don’t even know where we are. Looking at this place, nobody here knows who we are either. So don’t make things worse for yourself."

I didn’t turn around. "Isn’t that better? If nobody knows us, I can go all out on them. A massacre for their sins would actually be good for my karma, don’t you think?"

Her voice tightened. "Don’t get consumed by your emotions and ruin your life. These people suffer like this every single day. And if you think this is righteous, tell me. How many heads will you cut off in the name of justice?"

"Every single one of them."

The air inside the carriage shifted. I felt it. Holy mana building behind me. Angelica’s signature. Rising with intent.

"Then I will have to stop you." Her voice carried the weight of duty. "As your comrade."

I spoke without turning. Without raising my voice. Without a single shred of hesitation.

"Don’t dare. I don’t want to add your head to my list."

The mana vanished.

Completely. Instantly. As if someone had blown out a candle.

I knew my words had broken something in her. But I didn’t care.

I stepped out of the carriage. Feet hitting the dirt road. Axe in hand. Walking toward the crowd.

As I got closer, the cook had grabbed the woman by her collar from behind. He was holding her up like a piece of evidence, presenting her to the gathered faces.

"This rat has been stealing food from my stall for the last week! Today it was mine. Tomorrow it will be yours. Then our houses!"

His voice was rallying the mob.

"We can’t let her stay here! She needs to be punished for her crimes!"

The crowd responded.

"Bind her and lash her!"

"Yes! Every whip will remind her of the consequences!"

"Beat her!"

"Punish her!"

The chants were growing louder. Angrier. Feeding off each other.

And in the middle of it all, the woman didn’t care about any of them. She was dragging herself across the dirt after the man lost grip on her. She was pushing herself toward the meat. Her bony fingers found it and she patted the dust off carefully. Then tucked it beneath her clothes. Hiding it. Protecting it with whatever strength her starving body still held.

Something twisted in my chest.

She reminded me of Helena.

My mother. The woman who endured years of hell in silence. Who swallowed every cruelty thrown at her without complaint. Who clung to the smallest scraps of hope just to keep going for one more day.

The same look. The same desperation. The same refusal to let go of the one thing that kept her alive.

The cook saw the woman still clutching the meat beneath her rags. His face contorted with rage. He wound his fist back and swung it straight at her malnourished face.

My hand caught his fist an inch from her skin.