The smoky haze of Millennium Time hung thick, the bar's retro lights casting flickering shadows across the crowded tables.
The clatter of glasses and the hum of "Dream Chaser" from the stage wove a restless energy through the air, amplified by the fresh blood of graduation night.
Nathan and Henry had vanished into the private room, their card game a distant echo, leaving the Storm Academy table to its own devices.
Ethan , a wiry third-class student from First High, wasted no time, pulling Nathan's chair with a swift tug and grinning at Felix. "Brother Felix, come sit here."
Felix, in Storm Academy uniform pristine, the first-class badge a quiet claim to authority, settled into the main seat without hesitation.
David and Philip sat across, their Northview roots a silent contrast to the First High trio's polished confidence.
Felix's rank outshone David's second-class badge and Philip's third-class, marking them as underdogs in this charged arena.
The bar's heat pressed close, the scent of Frosthaven Lager and roasted meat mingling with the tension of unspoken rivalries.
Victor took Felix's left, Ethan his right, their eyes scanning David and Philip with thinly veiled scrutiny. Ethan spoke first, his voice laced with a taunt. "You guys from Northview?"
"Yeah, Northview," Philip replied, his tone steady but wary, his broad shoulders tensing under the weight of First High's gaze.
Ethan's smirk deepened, his eyes lingering on David's second-class badge. "Heard Northview's standards are lax. Mediocre kids get third-class, even second-class contracts. That true?" His words were a jab, sharp and deliberate, aimed at undermining David's rank.
First High's elite, often born to wealth and influence, carried a swagger that dwarfed Northview's rougher crowd.
Philip, a street-tough kid from Frosthaven's edges, felt the sting of their prestige, his third-class status leaving him vulnerable.
Ethan's challenge hung heavy, and Philip's jaw tightened, his silence betraying his struggle to respond.
He glanced at David, a flicker of trust in his eyes, knowing his friend's quiet strength could turn the tide.
David met Ethan's stare, a faint smile curving his lips, his calm a shield honed by his reborn life. "You saying Nathan's playing favorites?"
The question landed like a spark in dry grass, silencing Ethan.
His taunt had targeted David, but implicating Nathan, a third-level Warlord and Storm's trusted recruiter, was a step too far.
Ethan's mouth opened, then snapped shut, his bravado crumbling under David's deft counter.
Victor, quick to salvage the moment, leaned in, his tone smoother but no less cutting.
"Ethan's just noting a trend. Low-tier schools like Northview often produce overhyped recruits. He's not questioning Nathan, David. Don't twist his words."
David nodded, his smile unshaken, his eyes glinting with intent. "Overhyped recruits aren't just from low-tier schools. Some top academies, like First High, churn out greenhouse flowers—great in drills, but they wet their pants facing beasts."
Victor's face darkened, his fingers tightening around his glass.
David's words struck a raw nerve, invoking a humiliating First High tale—a second-class student, flawless in training, who'd collapsed in terror during a beast hunt, shaming the academy. The incident was a wound First High guarded fiercely, and David's casual jab was a deliberate prod, his past-life knowledge guiding his precision.
Victor's pride bristled, the insult to his alma mater intolerable.
"What'd you say?" Ethan snapped, emboldened by Felix and Victor's presence, his voice rising above the bar's din.
Philip, ignited by David's defiance, found his fire. His rough temper surged, and he slammed the table, the glasses rattling. "You heard him! Pipe down, third-class nobody!"
Victor and Ethan's expressions hardened, their chairs scraping as they leaned forward, fists clenched, ready to escalate.
The table became a powder keg, the air thick with the promise of violence.
Felix's voice sliced through, steady and commanding. "Enough. Apex is here."
The words doused the tension, and Victor and Ethan sank back, their lips pursed, their eyes turning to the bar's entrance. David and Philip followed, the moment's heat pausing as a new force entered the fray.
A dozen figures strode in, led by three Apex Academy fighters, their uniforms sharp, their presence a quiet storm.
Seven students trailed, among them Alex , lingering at the rear, his third-class badge dim beside the group's leaders—a first-class student, two second-class, and four other third-class recruits.
The Apex crew claimed two tables, their voices booming, their laughter cutting through the bar's retro melodies.
The fighters lingered briefly, exchanging nods with other veterans, then slipped into a private room, leaving the students to dominate the hall.
Apex's recruits erupted, shouting for drinks, their bravado filling the space.
Millennium Time brimmed with new blood, but Apex, a top-three academy in the northern region, carried a weight few challenged.
Most patrons averted their eyes, wary of their reputation.
Storm, though the region's finest, didn't rule Frosthaven—Ironclad Academy held that crown, with Apex and Storm locked in a bitter contest for second.
Apex's local edge made their students fearless, their taunts a spark in the bar's volatile air.
As Apex settled, their gazes found the Storm table, whispers passing like a gathering storm.
David's pulse quickened, his past life's memories vivid—this was the moment the bar ignited, Apex and Storm colliding. He braced, his spiritual power a silent hum, ready to shape the night.
Victor's face paled, his voice low, urgent. "Felix, Ryan's with them. He's had it out for us since First High. They've got eight to our five—trouble's brewing."
Felix waved him off, his eyes steel. "Doesn't matter. Back down now, and we're a laughingstock."
His gaze swept David and Philip, measuring their resolve. "Listen up. Apex might start something. If you're scared, leave. If not, fight with me, follow my lead."
David's brow furrowed, his voice calm but unyielding. "We're not scared, but I don't take orders. If it comes to blows, we handle our own."
"David speaks for me," Philip added, his jaw set, his loyalty unwavering.
Victor scoffed, his tone cold. "Ungrateful. Fine, hold off a second-class and a third-class, and you've done your part."
Before David could retort, Apex approached, led by Ryan, a broad-shouldered first-class student, his Apex robes marked with a quiet menace.
Ryan was a peak third-level Warrior, inches from fourth-level status, his potential a match for Felix's. David's eyes flicked to Alex, trailing behind, his smirk a mask for malice.
Ryan stopped, towering over Felix, his voice deceptively warm. "Felix, fancy meeting you. Old classmates, right? How about a drink?"
Felix remained seated, his tone cool. "Table's small, Ryan. No room for your crew."
Ryan grinned, unshaken. "No big deal, we'll stand. Let me introduce my little brother, Alex . He's got history with your Northview boys. We're all in Frosthaven, so let's clear the air. A drink, and it's done. No objections, right?"
Alex stepped forward, facing David and Philip, his eyes glinting with venom. Felix frowned, caught off guard—Ryan's focus was on the Northview duo, not him.
Refusing a drink was a slight no fighter could afford, and Felix nodded, conceding.
Both Felix and Ryan treated Felix as the table's leader, dismissing David and Philip .
Alex's grin widened, triumphant, as he hefted a massive bottle of Frosthaven Fire, a 60-proof liquor that burned like its namesake.
He set two huge glasses, each holding a pound of liquor, before David and Philip, filling them to the brim, the liquid catching the bar's dim glow.
Raising his head, he said, "David, Philip, we're all from Northview.
Past grudges are old news. Drink these, and we're good—classmates, brothers again."
Philip eyed the glass, his temper flaring, the challenge an insult. "Alex, you want us to drink? Show some guts first. Why don't you down one?"
"Of course I'm drinking," Alex said, grabbing another glass and pouring a pound of Fire, the bottle's weight thumping the table. "We three drink together, deal?"
David's gaze locked on Alex's fingers, his past life's memory a guiding star. This trap had played out before, Apex's deceit unchanged, though Alex hadn't led it then.
Now, with David as the target,
Alex took charge, his fingers subtly clutching a hangover pill—a $50 tablet that dissolved in seconds, turning liquor to water.
Alex aimed to humiliate, leaving David and Philip reeling while he walked clear. The bar's shadows hid his sleight, but David's spiritual power, at bronze's peak, was sharper.
As Alex released the pill into his own glass, David's mind reached out, a silent force nudging the tablet mid-air.
His mental strength, teetering on silver, made the move seamless, redirecting the pill to David's glass with a speed no eye could catch. A second later, it dissolved, rendering David's liquor harmless, a secret victory in the brewing storm.
"Alex, I'll drink with you," David said, his voice steady, his calm a weapon. "Leave Philip out. Just us two."
Alex's eyes gleamed, his plan snapping into place.
He'd feared David might dodge, but this was ideal. "Alright, David, you've got guts. But here's the deal: whoever can't finish pays for everything tonight."
"No problem," David agreed, his confidence a quiet fire, his past life's cunning guiding his hand.
"David, you sure?" Philip whispered, his voice tight with worry, his loyalty unshaken.
"When have I ever bitten off more than I can chew?" David replied, his smile a reassurance, his eyes never leaving Alex.
He clinked glasses with his rival, the crystal ringing softly, their gazes locked, each hiding their intent as they raised the liquor to their lips.