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Time passed in strange ways at Night Raven College.
Jack Howl only truly noticed it in the quiet moments—when the Savanaclaw dormitory was still, when the usual clamor of claws against stone and raised voices arguing over rankings had faded into nothing but wind brushing past sandstone walls. Those moments were rare. And yet, they lingered.
It had been months since Ruggie Bucchi became a fourth-year.
A year since Leona Kingscholar graduated—officially—and returned to Sunset Savanna.
And somehow, impossibly, Jack was now Dorm Head of Savanaclaw.
He stood near the second-floor balcony overlooking the courtyard, arms folded, his posture straight out of habit rather than pride. Below him, a few first- and second-years were already awake, training before classes as they always did. Savanaclaw didn’t sleep in—not if they wanted to survive.
His gaze drifted downward, unfocused, until it caught on the familiar weight clipped to his chest.
His Magic Pen.
Jack’s fingers twitched, brushing against it. He could feel the potential coiled inside, waiting. Waiting to become something else.
He never transformed it.
Not once.
Every Dorm Head carried a staff. Heartslabyul’s was ornate and ceremonial. Octavinelle’s gleamed with refinement. Diasomnia’s radiated ancient power. And Savanaclaw’s—
Jack shut his eyes briefly.
A long staff of polished wood. Heavy, solid. Topped with the carved head of a lion, jaws parted in a silent roar. A symbol of strength, dominance, and rule.
Leona Kingscholar wielded it like it was an extension of his arm.
Ruggie, too—though differently. Less regal, more cunning. He used it like a tool, not a throne.
And Jack?
He swallowed.
The image rose unbidden: himself as a first-year, standing in the courtyard, watching from the sidelines as Leona-senpai leaned lazily against the staff, golden eyes sharp even when he pretended not to care. The king of their small kingdom. The unchallenged apex predator.
Jack had never wanted that position.
He still didn’t.
But it had been entrusted to him anyway.
“I wish I could say I’m worthy of every ounce of—”
“Jack!”
The shout cut cleanly through his thoughts.
His ears flicked on instinct.
He didn’t turn.
“Jack! Are you ready? Everyone is waiting for you!”
Of course.
Jack sighed through his nose, already recognizing the voice. He stayed where he was, knowing full well there was no need to respond. The person shouting would not be deterred by silence.
He peeked over the balcony edge just as Sebek Zigvolt marched into the courtyard, arms rigid at his sides, posture as sharp as ever.
“I can hear you just fine, Sebek,” Jack called down flatly.
With practiced ease, he vaulted from the second floor, landing cleanly on the stone below. His tail swished once with the movement before settling.
“You don’t need to shout.”
Sebek spun around immediately, emerald eyes blazing. “Hah! And you don’t need to loiter like a delinquent when you are expected elsewhere!”
Jack rolled his eyes. “I was thinking.”
Sebek’s eyes narrowed. “That does not excuse tardiness. You should know better than anyone that such behavior is unbecoming of a Dorm Head like us.”
“Like us?” Jack echoed dryly as they started walking toward the Mirror Chamber.
Sebek sniffed. “Naturally.”
Jack glanced sideways at him. Of all the dorm heads, Sebek was the most vocal about duty—and the most transparent about where his loyalties lay. Diasomnia. Malleus Draconia. Absolute devotion, worn loudly and proudly.
Jack respected that.
Even if it was exhausting.
“I hear you just fine,” Jack said. “But what about Epel? Or Deuce and Ace? Or Grim? Why are you singling me out?”
Sebek scoffed. “Grim has the Directing Student assigned to wake him. That creature requires supervision.”
Jack snorted despite himself.
“Deuce and Ace arrived early,” Sebek continued. “Epel is already waiting in Heartslabyul. You were the only one missing.”
“Right. Right.” Jack waved a hand dismissively as they stepped into the Mirror Chamber.
The Magic Mirror loomed before them, its surface dark and glassy. Reflected within it were two very different leaders—one rigid with purpose, the other carrying quiet hesitation.
“Heartslabyul,” Sebek commanded.
The mirror shimmered.
As the portal opened, Jack’s hand brushed his chest again, against the Magic Pen he still refused to use properly.
As he stepped forward, he wondered—briefly, dangerously—how long he could keep carrying Savanaclaw without ever claiming its symbol.
And whether that reluctance would eventually cost him more than his pride.
-
The Magic Mirror shimmered, and the world shifted.
Jack stepped out into Heartslabyul’s rose-filled courtyard, immediately assaulted by the scent of tea and freshly trimmed hedges. Everything was precise. Orderly. Unchanged.
Somehow, that made the changes all the more obvious.
“Whoa—!”
Grim stumbled out of the mirror first, landing in a graceless heap. “Hey! Warn a guy before you go all sparkly like that!”
“Grim, you say that every time,” Yuu said calmly, already steady on their feet.
Jack watched them with mild amusement before his attention shifted to the others waiting nearby.
Ace Trappola was leaning against a stone table, arms folded behind his head, wearing that same crooked grin Jack remembered all too well.
“About time, Wolfman,” Ace drawled. “We were starting to think you got lost.”
Jack’s ear twitched. “This coming from someone who once got trapped in a hedge maze for two hours.”
Ace pointed. “That was sabotage.”
“By your own overblotting dorm,” Deuce said flatly.
Deuce Spade stood beside him, posture straight, expression serious—but not stiff. He looked… different. More settled. The red armband marking him as Dorm Head of Heartslabyul sat proudly on his sleeve.
Jack inclined his head slightly. “Deuce.”
Deuce straightened instinctively. “Jack! Glad you made it. Everyone’s here now.”
Ace smirked. “Yeah, yeah, ‘everyone.’ Except Tin Man Junior.”
“Ortho had prior obligations,” Sebek announced loudly, arms crossed. “Though Idia-senpai’s excessive protectiveness is clearly the true cause.”
Jack huffed softly. “So nothing’s changed.”
Sebek turned sharply. “Do not trivialize Idia-senpai’s—!”
“Sebek,” Deuce cut in quickly. “Meeting.”
Sebek stiffened, then reluctantly fell silent.
Jack’s gaze moved on.
Epel Felmier sat at the table, legs crossed, chin propped on his hand. His expression was calm, composed—too composed. The faint glimmer of Pomefiore’s Dorm Head insignia was pinned neatly to his uniform.
Jack blinked once.
“Epel,” he said carefully.
Epel smiled sweetly. “Jack.”
Grim squinted. “Why do I feel like yer both tryin’ to out-polite each other?”
Epel’s smile widened. “Because appearances matter.”
Jack snorted before he could stop himself. “You still hate that.”
Epel’s eye twitched. “Don’t start.”
Despite himself, Jack felt something loosen in his chest.
They gathered around the stone table beneath the rose arbor. Deuce took the head seat, clearing his throat.
“As Dorm Head of Heartslabyul,” he began, voice steady, “I’ll be presiding over today’s meeting.”
Ace leaned over. “And as Vice Dorm Head, I’ll be supervising moral support.”
“No, you won’t,” Deuce said immediately.
Jack watched the exchange, something warm and strange stirring in his chest.
Ace and Deuce.
Dorm Head and Vice.
A year ago, he would’ve laughed at the idea.
Now? It fit.
Time really had passed.
“So,” Ace said, tapping the table, “monthly check-in. No riots, no overblots, no curses. Pretty tame.”
Grim puffed up. “Hey! I almost set somethin’ on fire last week!”
Yuu gently placed a hand on Grim’s head. “Almost.”
Grim grumbled.
Jack leaned back slightly, arms folded, listening more than speaking. He’d always done that. Observed. Measured.
Sebek broke the moment with his usual volume. “Diasomnia reports no irregularities. Dorm discipline is flawless under my command.”
Ace snickered. “Wow, say that without yelling and I might believe you.”
Sebek glared. “Mind your tongue, Trickster!”
Epel sighed. “Pomefiore’s schedule’s stable. No poison incidents. No curse-related mirror drama.”
Jack raised a brow. “That’s a first.”
Epel scowled. “Say it again and I’ll make it not a first.”
Grim leaned toward Jack. “So, Wolfie, how’s Savanaclaw?”
Jack hesitated.
Images flashed through his mind—training grounds at dawn, students testing limits, expectations hanging heavier than stone.
“It’s… stable,” he said finally.
Not perfect. Not easy.
But standing.
Deuce nodded. “That’s good.”
Jack looked at him then—really looked.
Not the hotheaded first-year desperate to be better.
But a leader.
Just like him.
Just like all of them.
How much time had passed, indeed.
-
The tension around the table didn’t vanish all at once.
It melted.
It started with Grim.
“I’m bored,” the little monster declared, slumping dramatically across the table. “If this is just a ‘nothin’s-on-fire’ meetin’, then why’re we even here?”
Ace smirked. “To admire Deuce pretending he’s not one bad day away from screaming ‘OFF WITH THEIR HEADS.’”
Deuce sputtered. “I would never—!”
Epel snorted. “You absolutely would.”
Yuu laughed quietly, and that was all it took.
The air shifted.
Jack leaned back, shoulders easing without him realizing it. He watched Ace flick a sugar cube at Grim, watched Deuce scold him while clearly fighting a smile, watched Epel roll his eyes like he was above it all—despite staying seated instead of leaving.
Even Sebek, arms still crossed, had stopped bristling quite so sharply.
Ace leaned toward him. “So, Sebek, how’s it feel bein’ Dorm Head? Finally get to shout at everyone officially?”
Sebek’s eyes flared. “I have always had the authority to reprimand incompetence!”
Jack caught the faintest pause.
“…But,” Sebek added stiffly, “the recognition is… appropriate.”
Ace grinned. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said.”
“I did not say it was nice!”
Jack looked away quickly, hiding the twitch at the corner of his mouth.
They were laughing.
Not cautiously. Not with the sharp edges of rivalry.
Just—laughing.
His gaze drifted, unfocused, and without meaning to, Jack let himself slip.
He remembered when meetings like this used to feel like battlegrounds.
Back when their seniors still held power.
Leona and Vil in the same room—pressure thick enough to choke on. Azul smiling like a blade hidden behind velvet. Riddle’s rules crashing against everyone else’s defiance. Malleus’s mere presence bending the air.
Dorm Head meetings weren’t meetings back then.
They were cold wars.
Jack had stood behind Leona in those days, silent and alert, muscles tight, waiting for tension to snap into violence. Even when no one raised a hand, the room always felt one wrong word away from collapse.
And now?
“Hey, Jack.”
He blinked.
Ace was looking at him, head tilted. “You space out worse than Deuce before exams.”
“I do not—!” Deuce protested automatically.
Jack exhaled. “Sorry. Just… thinking.”
Epel leaned back in his chair. “’Bout what?”
Jack hesitated, then answered honestly. “How different this is.”
No one mocked him.
Deuce nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
Sebek clicked his tongue. “Of course it is. The current Dorm Heads are competent.”
Ace snorted. “Whoa, look at you includin’ yourself.”
Sebek straightened. “Naturally.”
Grim puffed up. “Hey! What about me?! I’m basically Dorm Head of Ramshackle!”
Yuu raised an eyebrow.
“Okay,” Grim amended, “future Dorm Head.”
Jack listened to them, to the noise and the warmth, and the realization settled quietly in his chest.
Back in their first year, none of this had been intentional.
A delinquent with a conscience.
A trickster who pretended not to care.
A farm boy trapped in silk and poison.
A loud dragon who worshiped a future king.
A human without magic—and the monster who followed them.
They weren’t supposed to fit.
And yet, somehow, they had become each other’s anchor.
When the world tilted.
When dorms burned.
When kings fell.
Now, in their third year, they sat at the same table—not as survivors clinging together, but as leaders holding the line.
Jack’s hand brushed his Magic Pen again.
For the first time, the weight didn’t feel suffocating.
Just… heavy.
And manageable.
-
The sky above Heartslabyul had darkened without any of them quite noticing.
Lanterns flickered to life along the hedges, casting warm gold over the rose maze. Tea had long gone cold. Someone—Ace, probably—had refilled the cups with juice at some point. Grim was sprawled on Yuu’s lap, half-asleep, tail flicking whenever someone raised their voice.
They should have adjourned already.
No one moved to say it.
“So,” Ace said lazily, stretching his arms over his head, “guess this is what grown-up meetings look like. No yelling. No threats. Kinda disappointing.”
“You say that like you want threats,” Deuce muttered.
Ace grinned. “Little bit.”
Epel scoffed. “Figures.”
Sebek, surprisingly, hadn’t objected to the lingering. He stood near the edge of the table now instead of rigidly behind his chair, arms still crossed but shoulders less tense. Jack noticed it in the way Sebek no longer snapped at every interruption—noticed it and said nothing.
Jack himself had gone quiet again.
Not the heavy silence from before, but something looser. Thoughtful.
He watched the lantern light catch on the rose petals, the shadows stretching across stone. He remembered other nights—standing behind Leona during meetings that felt like battles of will, remembering how even breathing too loudly felt like a challenge.
Back then, two Dorm Heads in the same room meant danger.
Now?
Ace was balancing Grim’s tail on his finger like it was a toy.
Grim cracked one eye open. “Hey.”
Everyone looked at him.
The cat yawned, stretched, then tilted his head toward Jack. “How come we never see ya use that big ol’ Savanaclaw staff thing?”
The world stopped.
There was a split second where no one breathed—
“Grim—”
“Shut up.”
“Read the room!”
“Do you ever think—?!”
Ace slapped a hand over Grim’s mouth. Deuce hissed his name like it physically hurt. Epel shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. Even Sebek stiffened, eyes wide, as if a taboo had been shattered.
Jack didn’t flinch.
He just… froze.
Ace peeked at him. “Uh—sorry. He’s dumb.”
“Mmph!” Grim protested into Ace’s palm.
Jack knew that.
He also knew something else.
These people had been with him through his entire first and second year. They’d seen him at his worst—stubborn, prideful, unsure. They were moving into their third year together now.
If he didn’t trust them—
He exhaled slowly.
Ace removed his hand from Grim’s mouth when Jack raised a hand.
“It’s fine,” Jack said.
Everyone stared.
Jack kept his eyes on the table. “I don’t use it because… I don’t think it belongs to me. Not yet.”
Silence.
“It represents a kind of rule Savanaclaw used to have,” he continued quietly. “Power by dominance. Strength above all else. Leona-senpai made it work because he was that strength.”
He swallowed.
“I’m not him.”
Deuce’s expression softened. Epel looked away, jaw tight. Sebek frowned—not in judgment, but concentration.
Jack finally looked up. “If I summon that staff before I understand what kind of leader I am, then I’m just pretending.”
Grim blinked. “…Oh.”
Ace rubbed the back of his neck. “Well. That got serious fast.”
Before anyone could respond—
CRASH.
Stone shattered.
Thorns tore apart with a violent screech as something slammed into the rose maze, hedges exploding outward. Everyone shot to their feet instantly.
Jack was already moving, body tensed, senses flaring.
“Enemy?!” Sebek barked.
“No—wait!” Deuce shouted.
From the wreckage, a familiar white-and-blue figure staggered forward, eyes glowing bright.
“Ortho?” Yuu breathed.
The automaton steadied himself, systems whirring. “Emergency interruption acknowledged. Apologies for the dramatic entrance.”
Ace stared at the destroyed roses. “Dude. That one took hours.”
Ortho didn’t smile.
“I have information,” he said. “High-priority.”
Jack’s chest tightened. “What kind?”
Ortho’s eyes dimmed slightly. “Bad news.”
Everyone leaned in.
“There is a circulating rumor,” Ortho continued, “that the current Dorm Heads of Scarabia and Octavinelle are coordinating something during the upcoming school events.”
Epel’s eyes narrowed. “Coordinating what?”
Ortho looked directly at Jack.
“Disruption. Exposure. A political maneuver.”
Jack felt it settle in his bones before Ortho finished.
“Their intended target,” Ortho said, voice steady, “is Savanaclaw.”
The lantern light flickered.
And for the first time that night, the weight on Jack’s chest felt sharp.
-
The chaos didn’t come all at once.
It settled.
Jack moved first, instincts kicking in before doubt could. “Sit,” he ordered—not loudly, but firmly.
To his faint surprise, everyone obeyed.
The ruined edge of the rose maze loomed behind Ortho, petals scattered like fallen banners. Jack positioned himself near the table again, grounding the group.
“Ortho,” Jack said, voice steady, “tell us what you know.”
Ortho nodded. “Data is incomplete, but verified. The current Dorm Heads of Scarabia and Octavinelle are not Kalim Al-Asim or Azul Ashengrotto.”
Ace frowned. “We know that, but why start with that.”
Deuce crossed his arms. “And?”
Jack leaned forward. “What’s the objective?”
Ortho paused. “Destabilization. If Savanaclaw appears internally divided or excessively aggressive during school events, it would justify external intervention.”
Sebek scoffed. “Cowards.”
“Strategists,” Jack corrected.
“Translation?” Ace asked.
“They don’t want attention,” Yuu said.
Ortho inclined his head. “Correct.”
Grim bristled. “So they’re schemin’ from the shadows?”
“Yes.”
Sebek snarled. “They intend to provoke you.”
Jack nodded once. “And they think we’ll respond like we used to.”
Silence followed.
That was the crux of it.
“They want us to act like Leona-senpai’s Savanaclaw,” Jack said. “Or Ruggie’s.”
Epel’s fingers tightened on the table. “And if we don’t?”
“They lose leverage,” Jack replied.
Ace blew out a breath. “So what’s the play, boss?”
The word boss hit harder than Jack expected.
He considered carefully. “We don’t confront them publicly. No retaliation. No dominance displays.”
Sebek bristled. “Restraint will be perceived as weakness!”
“No,” Jack said, meeting his gaze. “It will be perceived as unpredictability.”
Sebek went still.
Deuce nodded slowly. “Heartslabyul can help keep things documented. No rule violations.”
“I’ll keep Pomefiore neutral,” Epel said. “No rumors spreading unchecked.”
Ace grinned. “And I’ll do what I do best.”
Jack sighed. “Cause trouble?”
“Information,” Ace corrected. “Same skill set.”
Ortho tilted his head. “I will continue monitoring communications.”
Jack looked around the table—at the group that shouldn’t have existed and yet somehow did.
“We move carefully,” he said. “And we don’t isolate.”
The meeting dissolved quietly after that.
-
The mirrors took them home one by one.
Diasomnia’s portal swallowed Sebek, who paused just long enough to snap, “Do not hesitate to call upon us.”
Pomefiore followed, Epel offering Jack a sharp nod.
Heartslabyul’s mirror dimmed last, leaving Jack alone in the chamber.
Savanaclaw welcomed him back with familiar stone and shadow.
The dorm was quiet. Too quiet.
Jack entered his room and closed the door behind him, resting his forehead briefly against the wood.
He exhaled.
His Magic Pen felt heavier than ever.
Jack pulled out his phone.
The contact list scrolled past familiar names until it stopped.
Leona Kingscholar.
His finger hovered.
Leona-senpai had left. Chosen a different battlefield. Jack didn’t want to drag him back into this.
But this wasn’t about pride.
It was about protecting Savanaclaw.
Jack pressed call.
The line rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
“Did you break something, or is this a miracle?” Leona’s voice drawled on the other end.
Jack straightened.
“Leona-senpai,” he said. “I need your advice.”
There was a pause.
“…You’d better start talking.”
-
Leona didn’t speak right away.
Jack could hear the faint rustle on the other end of the line—fabric, maybe. The sound of someone shifting position, settling in rather than standing to attention.
That alone told Jack everything.
“So,” Leona finally drawled, voice low and unhurried, “you wouldn’t be calling me unless something was on fire. Or about to be.”
Jack swallowed. “There’s a rumor. Scarabia and Octavinelle. Their current Dorm Heads.”
“Not Kalim. Not Azul,” Leona said flatly.
Jack stiffened. “You already know.”
“Tch. Of course I do.” A pause. “Go on.”
Jack explained—cleanly, without dramatics. The planned school events. The target on Savanaclaw’s back. The way it all felt deliberate, like bait.
Leona listened.
Didn’t interrupt once.
When Jack finished, there was a low huff of breath through the phone.
“…Figures,” Leona muttered. “They’re tryin’ to poke the wolf and see if it still bites like a lion.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “That’s what I thought.”
“And?” Leona asked. “You gonna prove ‘em right?”
“No,” Jack said immediately.
Leona chuckled. “Good.”
There was a faint clink—ice in a glass, maybe.
“You’re not me,” Leona continued. “And you’re not Ruggie either. Anyone expecting you to rule the same way’s already an idiot.”
Jack hesitated. “That’s part of the problem.”
“Yeah?” Leona said. “Or is that the part you’re afraid of?”
Jack closed his eyes.
“I haven’t used the staff,” he admitted.
Silence.
Not surprised silence.
Evaluating silence.
“I figured,” Leona said at last.
Jack blinked. “You did?”
Yuu’s voice floated faintly in the background of the call—muffled, distant. Leona must’ve had it on speaker earlier.
“They mentioned it,” Leona went on. “Said you never pull it out. Not once.”
Jack exhaled slowly. “I didn’t think it was mine to use.”
Leona snorted. “Still thinkin’ like muscle instead of teeth.”
Jack bristled. “I’m not avoiding responsibility.”
“I know,” Leona said, cutting him off. “That’s the problem.”
Jack went still.
“You’re too damn careful,” Leona continued. “You think power has to look a certain way to count. You think if you don’t match what came before, you’re fakin’ it.”
Jack’s grip tightened on his phone.
Leona’s voice dropped, sharper now. “Listen to me, pup. That staff isn’t a crown.”
“It’s a tool.”
Jack frowned. “Then why does it feel like—”
“Because you’re givin’ it meaning it doesn’t deserve,” Leona snapped. “Savanaclaw doesn’t need another king. It needs a spine.”
Jack swallowed hard.
“You think I handed you that dorm because you’re strong?” Leona scoffed. “Strength’s cheap. You can train it.”
There was a pause.
“I handed it to you because you don’t enjoy standing on top of people.”
Jack’s breath hitched.
“You watch,” Leona continued. “You listen. You hold back until it matters. That’s why Ruggie trusted you. That’s why the brats follow you even when they don’t realize it.”
Jack stared at the wall.
“You’re already leading,” Leona said. “Staff or not.”
“…Then why does it feel like I’m waiting?” Jack asked quietly.
Leona hummed. “Because you are.”
“For what?”
“For the moment you stop askin’ if you’re allowed.”
The call ended a few seconds later.
Jack remained where he was, phone still warm in his hand.
Slowly, deliberately, he unclipped his Magic Pen.
Not to transform it.
Just to look at it.
-
The dorm had long since fallen asleep.
Savanaclaw was never truly silent—there was always the distant scrape of training equipment, the soft padding of late patrols—but this was as close as it came. Jack sat alone at his desk, lantern dimmed, phone resting beside his Magic Pen.
For the moment you stop askin’ if you’re allowed.
Leona’s words lingered like a weight and a warning.
Jack turned the pen between his fingers. He still didn’t transform it. But he didn’t shy away from touching it either.
Leadership wasn’t about claiming symbols.
It was about knowing when not to.
Jack exhaled and reached for his phone again.
Sebek Zigvolt.
The call connected immediately.
“JACK HOWL?!” Sebek’s voice boomed through the speaker. “HAS SOMETHING OCCURRED?!”
Jack winced. “Lower your voice.”
“…Understood,” Sebek said stiffly, though his volume only dropped marginally. “What do you require?”
Jack chose his words carefully. “You wield Diasomnia’s Dorm Head staff.”
“Yes,” Sebek replied without hesitation.
“And you did so after Malleus-senpai graduated,” Jack continued. “Even though you’re his royal guard.”
Sebek scoffed. “My loyalty to Lord Malleus is absolute.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Jack said.
There was a pause.
Sebek inhaled. “Then ask properly.”
Jack clenched his jaw. “How could you hold that staff without flinching?”
Silence stretched.
“…Because,” Sebek said slowly, “Lord Malleus entrusted Diasomnia to me.”
Jack closed his eyes.
“The staff is not my liege,” Sebek continued, voice firm. “It is proof that I will guard what he left behind.”
Jack let that settle.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Sebek straightened audibly. “You are welcome.”
The line disconnected.
Jack sat there a moment longer.
Then he stood.
-
The first move came two days later.
Preparations for the inter-dorm exhibition were underway—booths, demonstrations, collaborative events. Savanaclaw was scheduled to run combat simulations with Scarabia’s tactical displays.
That’s when it happened.
A Scarabia representative—smiling too politely—filed a formal complaint.
“Unsafe aggression,” they called it.
Accusations of intimidation. Of excessive force during practice demonstrations.
Whispers followed. Students watched. Waited.
Jack arrived without ceremony.
He didn’t raise his voice.
He didn’t summon the staff.
He reviewed footage. Questioned witnesses. Cross-referenced training protocols. Invited Heartslabyul’s documentation team—Deuce included—to observe.
Facts dismantled the rumor cleanly.
Calmly.
Publicly.
By the end of the day, Scarabia withdrew the complaint.
Octavinelle watched.
Jack returned to Savanaclaw as the sun dipped low.
No cheers. No spectacle.
Just stability.
That night, Jack stood on the balcony again.
The Magic Pen warmed beneath his fingers.
He finally understood.
He wouldn’t use the staff to prove himself.
He would use it when Savanaclaw needed to see him stand taller than doubt.
Jack clipped the pen back into place.
“Not yet,” he murmured.
But soon.
-
The first scream cut through the night like glass.
Jack was already moving before the second followed.
Savanaclaw’s courtyard erupted into chaos—students scattering, stone cracking as something massive tore itself out of the shadows. Then another. And another.
Too many.
“Monsters?!” someone shouted.
“No—these are summoned,” Jack growled, eyes tracking movement with sharp precision. “Back away from the center! Form groups!”
The creatures surged forward in waves—hybrid constructs stitched together by spellwork that was too clean to be wild magic, too coordinated to be accidental. They moved with intent. With direction.
Jack felt it settle in his gut.
Scarabia and Octavinelle.
Only those two would orchestrate something this deliberate. This deniable.
“Dorm Head!” a second-year yelled. “There’s too many—!”
Jack assessed in seconds what would have taken others minutes.
They weren’t here to wipe Savanaclaw out.
They were here to make them lose control.
To force aggression. To provoke the old image. To bait him into becoming the lion.
Jack planted his feet.
“Fall back to the perimeter,” he ordered, voice cutting through panic. “Protect the injured. No one engages alone.”
He could feel it then—the pressure. The familiar burn beneath his skin.
Unleash Beast.
The temptation to let instinct take over. To become claws and speed and fury.
Jack shut it down.
If he transformed now, he’d lose the battlefield.
He reached instead for the weight he’d avoided for months.
The Magic Pen warmed—then shifted.
Wood unfolded from light, solid and grounded. The staff formed in his hand with a low, resonant hum, the lion’s head at its crest catching moonlight in carved defiance.
Jack didn’t hesitate.
He didn’t pose.
He moved.
He struck the stone once with the base of the staff.
A controlled shockwave rippled outward—not destructive, but commanding. The monsters faltered, movement disrupted as Jack layered spellwork with precision rather than force.
Leona’s lessons echoed in his mind.
Don’t overpower—outposition.
Ruggie’s voice followed.
Magic’s a tool. Use just enough to win.
Jack wove binding spells into the air, reinforced by physical momentum. He redirected attacks, forced collisions between monsters, shattered formation instead of bodies. His magic wasn’t overwhelming—but it was relentless.
Efficient.
Calculated.
Savanaclaw rallied behind him without needing to be told.
They moved like a pack.
When the last construct collapsed into fading spell residue, the courtyard was silent—except for heavy breathing.
Jack stood at the center, staff grounded, untransformed.
Unbroken.
The staff felt… right.
Not heavy.
Not borrowed.
Earned.
He looked at the destruction, at his dorm standing instead of raging, and understood at last.
This was when he would use it.
Not to rule.
But to hold the line.