"Don't worry. My father will know about this for sure."

Silence.

For the first time, a flicker of something unreadable passed through Galen's eyes.

Because Damien had played a card that couldn't be ignored.

The Elford name.

And while Damien himself had always been seen as a failure, his father was anything but.

A tense silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of Damien's words.

He exhaled slowly, shifting his bruised jaw as if testing how much pain he could endure. The coppery taste of blood still lingered in his mouth, and his nose throbbed with every heartbeat, but his expression never wavered.

His voice, when he finally spoke again, was quiet—measured—but carried the unmistakable weight of a threat.

"I'll make sure my father is aware," he murmured, his smirk fading into something far more dangerous. "That his son was attacked. In front of everyone. At this academy."

Galen's jaw tightened slightly, but he remained silent.

Leon's fists clenched again, his golden-brown eyes burning with barely restrained anger.

And then—

Damien turned his gaze toward him.

Cold. Unforgiving.

"And I'll make sure he knows exactly whose son attacked him."

Leon inhaled sharply, his entire body going rigid at the words.

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face—was it anger? Panic? No—frustration. The realization that Damien wasn't just throwing words around anymore.

The Elford family held weight.

His own family—his father, a high-ranking general—was powerful, but even he had limits. And now, because of this, his name would be dragged into something bigger than just a schoolyard fight.

Damien watched the subtle shift in Leon's posture, the way his fingers twitched ever so slightly.

At the same time, the moment Damien uttered his father's name, a cold weight settled in Galen's chest. Not visible. Not obvious. But there.

Dominic Elford.

Even thinking the name sent a slow, involuntary shiver down his spine.

Galen prided himself on being a man who feared nothing. He had served this academy for years, carved out his place with sheer discipline, unwavering authority, and a reputation built on steel. No student, no noble brat, no wealthy heir had ever made him hesitate.

But this was different.

Because the Elford family wasn't just wealthy. They weren't just influential.

They were power itself.

One of the seat-holding families on the Grand Council. A dynasty that had its hands buried in every sector that mattered—military, politics, finance. A family that could shift the course of the city with a whisper.

And at the head of that empire was Dominic Elford.

A man so terrifyingly calculated, so utterly ruthless, that even seasoned politicians, hardened generals, and the most arrogant aristocrats refused to cross him.

A man who had built an empire from nothing and crushed those who stood in his way without hesitation.

Galen had never met him directly.

But he had heard the stories.

And the thought of having to stand before that man—to explain how his son had been beaten, humiliated, and ignored by an instructor who should have intervened sooner—was not something Galen was willing to entertain.

His mind moved quickly.

This wasn't just about discipline anymore. This wasn't about justice.

This was survival.

And so—he did what was necessary.

His lips curled into an easy, pleasant smile. A complete shift from the cold steel of his usual demeanor.

"Damien," he said smoothly, his voice carrying an air of quiet reassurance. "You're right."

He stepped forward, offering a nod—subtle, professional, as if he had merely come to a reasonable conclusion.

"This is an unfortunate incident, and you have my word—I will personally ensure that the academy handles it accordingly."

Leon stiffened beside them.

"What—"

Galen turned his head ever so slightly, just enough to glance at him.

Not a glare. Not a scowl.

Just a look.

A look that carried absolute finality.

A look that shut down any protest before it could even leave Leon's lips.

Leon's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together, but he said nothing.

Smart boy.

Galen's attention shifted back to Damien, whose blue eyes remained locked onto him.

Assessing.

Waiting.

There was something unnatural about how calmly the boy carried himself. He had been struck, humiliated in front of his peers, and yet there was no flaring rage, no emotional outburst. Just that quiet, unnerving stillness.

It was dangerous.

A different kind of dangerous than his father, but dangerous nonetheless.

Galen kept his smile in place.

"For now, let's get you to the infirmary," he said smoothly. "I will ensure that Leon is properly disciplined for his actions."

Leon bristled again, his fists curling at his sides. "Instructor Galen, I—"

Galen didn't look at him this time.

He didn't have to.

The weight of his presence alone was enough to silence him.

And then—Damien moved.

A slow, deliberate shift.

His posture remained relaxed, casual even, but when he looked up at Galen, there was a flicker of something sharp beneath those icy blue eyes.

Something that made Galen's skin prickle ever so slightly.

Damien smirked.

A slow, knowing smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

"Heh…" His voice was quiet, but there was something about it—something amused, something dangerously patient.

"That would be nice."

His gaze locked onto Galen's, unwavering.

"I will also follow closely," he murmured. "Regarding which punishment he will get."

Silence.

Galen held his expression steady, but inwardly—he felt it.

A warning.

Not a threat. Not outright.

But a warning nonetheless.

The weight of Damien's words lingered in the air, curling around them like an unshakable presence. Galen had faced countless students over the years—brash, arrogant sons of nobles, troublemakers too proud for their own good—but this was different. Damien Elford wasn't acting like a reckless youth leveraging his family name out of desperation. No, he was calm. Too calm. His words were deliberate, placed like daggers that would take their time before cutting deep.

Galen could see it now. This wasn't just some empty warning. This was a calculated maneuver. A move made by someone who understood exactly where the pieces on the board stood.

The very last thing Galen needed was Dominic Elford breathing down his neck, questioning the academy's competence, demanding explanations, and worse—finding excuses to involve himself in academy affairs. The Elford patriarch wasn't the kind of man who wasted time on pointless complaints. If he moved, it would be with precision, with the full weight of his authority, and the aftermath would be absolute.

Galen could not allow that to happen.

His lips curled into something resembling a smile, though there was no warmth behind it. "There's no need for you to attend the entrance ceremony," he said smoothly, as if granting Damien a privilege. "Your injuries need immediate attention. I'll personally notify the infirmary and ensure the school nurse is there the moment you arrive."

A flicker of something passed through Damien's eyes. Interest. Approval. A silent acknowledgment that Galen was making the correct choice. He exhaled softly, brushing his fingers across the bruise forming on his jaw, then, without another word, turned on his heel and walked away.

His footsteps were measured, unhurried. He wasn't running, wasn't escaping. He was leaving on his own terms. And as he stepped through the archway leading toward the medical wing, he never once looked back.

Only when Damien's figure fully disappeared did Galen release the faintest breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

And then—

"Are you fucking serious?!"

Leon's voice tore through the tension like a whip.

Galen's gaze snapped toward him, cold and sharp, but the boy was too blinded by his frustration to notice.

"He was lying! I didn't do anything wrong! That bastard was the one—"

The words barely left Leon's mouth before Galen moved.

It wasn't a dramatic shift. He didn't slam a fist against the wall or raise his voice. He didn't need to. All he did was take a single step forward, his sharp gaze locking onto Leon's with an intensity that made the air between them crackle.

Leon stopped.

His lips parted, his breath unsteady, but he didn't finish his sentence. His muscles tensed, his body rigid like a beast trapped in place by the gaze of a predator.

Galen didn't blink.

"You absolute fool."

The words were quiet. Devoid of rage. And that made them all the more terrifying.

"Do you even realize what you've done?"

Leon swallowed. "I—"

"Shut up."

It was the first time in years that Galen had spoken to a student with such unfiltered contempt. His patience had worn thin, stretched past its breaking point by Leon's idiocy.

The boy had no idea.

No idea how close he had come to starting something far bigger than himself.

"This wasn't just a fight, Leon. You didn't just punch another student," Galen continued, voice low, simmering with restrained fury. "You assaulted the heir of one of the most dangerous men in this city. In front of dozens of witnesses. Do you think the Elford family will just let this go? Do you think Dominic Elford is the kind of man who forgets?"

Leon flinched, but still had the audacity to glare. "I don't give a damn about his father—"

Galen's jaw tightened, his patience snapping. "Then you're even stupider than I thought."

Leon's breath hitched.

The words landed like a slap.

Good.

Maybe now, the idiot would start thinking.

Galen exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a brief second before leveling another harsh glare at the boy. "You've forced my hand today, Leon. I had to play along, had to give him what he wanted—because you didn't think before you acted." His voice dropped further, colder. "I was almost swept up in your mistake."