Chapter 205: Lessons Beyond Victory

Stellan Varg raised his hand, signaling Squad Four to tighten their formation.

Across the arena, Noah watched the four students reposition themselves. Their earlier confidence had faded, replaced by the focused expressions of people who understood that one mistake could cost them the match.

“They’re changing their approach,” Eric muttered, rolling his shoulders. “I preferred them when they were predictable.”

“They’re adapting,” Sophia replied. “We should do the same.”

Noah nodded. “Nobody chases a target alone. Make them move, and wait for an opening.”

Stellan lowered his hand.

Squad Four advanced.

This time, they abandoned their slow, methodical pressure. Two members moved toward Eric and Damien, forcing them to defend, while the remaining pair shifted toward Sophia and Luna. Stellan stayed behind them, watching for the moment Squad Seven’s formation began to break.

It was a sensible strategy. Rather than attacking Noah directly, he intended to separate him from the others and prevent him from controlling the pace.

Noah recognized the trap before it closed.

“Luna, switch with Damien!”

Luna moved immediately, slipping behind Eric as Damien crossed to cover her previous position. Their movements weren’t perfectly smooth, but the exchange prevented Squad Four from isolating either of them.

Stellan clicked his tongue.

“Keep pressing!”

One of his teammates lunged toward Noah with a training blade. Noah blocked the strike, but the impact forced him backward. His opponent followed with a second attack, aiming low.

Noah barely redirected it.

You’re giving away too much ground, Dead Zone observed inside his mind.

I’m aware.

Then stop letting him dictate the exchange.

Noah adjusted his footing. Instead of meeting the next strike head-on, he angled his sword and guided the attack past his shoulder. His opponent stumbled forward, exposing his side.

“Eric!”

Eric understood immediately. He swept in from the flank and tapped the student’s shoulder with his training weapon.

“Point to Squad Seven!”

The instructor’s announcement echoed across the arena.

Squad Four now had to take greater risks if they wanted to recover. Stellan knew it, and Noah could see the calculation behind his eyes.

The squad leader stepped forward.

“Enough defending. We’ll finish this with one push.”

His teammates gathered around him, forming a narrow wedge. Stellan positioned himself at its tip, using his stronger offensive ability to lead the advance.

Noah’s expression sharpened.

“They’re coming straight through us.”

“Finally,” Eric said. “Something I can understand.”

“Don’t charge them,” Noah warned. “Let them commit.”

The wedge advanced quickly. Damien and Eric held the front while Luna and Sophia shifted toward the sides. For several seconds, the pressure threatened to force Squad Seven backward, and Stellan seemed convinced that his formation would break through.

But Noah wasn’t watching the blades.

He was watching the gaps.

Stellan’s teammates kept their attention on the opponents directly ahead of them. That made their formation powerful from the front, but it left little room to respond when their targets changed positions.

“Now! Open the center!”

Damien stepped aside at Noah’s signal. Eric followed, leaving an apparent gap in Squad Seven’s defense.

Stellan took the opening.

The instant he crossed the line, Sophia and Luna moved in opposite directions, splitting the wedge’s momentum. Damien turned to intercept the student behind Stellan, while Eric blocked the other flank.

Stellan found himself separated from his teammates.

Noah met him in the center.

Their training blades clashed twice. Stellan attacked aggressively, determined to recover the advantage, but Noah remained composed. He parried the first strike, avoided the second, and stepped inside the range of Stellan’s next swing.

His blade stopped a finger’s width from Stellan’s shoulder.

For a moment, neither moved.

The instructor raised her hand.

“Match over! Victory goes to Squad Seven!”

The arena erupted with scattered applause from the watching students.

Stellan lowered his weapon and exhaled. After a brief pause, he offered Noah his hand.

“Your formation was irritatingly difficult to read.”

Noah shook it. “Yours was difficult to break.”

“That sounds suspiciously like a compliment.”

“It was meant to be one.”

Stellan laughed, some of his earlier frustration disappearing. “Next time, I’m winning.”

“I’ll let my squad know.”

Behind them, Eric threw an arm around Damien’s shoulders while Sophia and Luna exchanged satisfied smiles. They had won, but the victory hadn’t come from Noah overpowering everyone. Each member had contributed to the result.

Professor Astrid approached as Squad Four regrouped.

“Squad Seven, your coordination has improved considerably. However, you still rely too heavily on Noah to recognize changes in the field. If he becomes occupied, your decisions slow down.”

Her gaze shifted to the rest of the squad.

“Your next challenge is learning to recognize those opportunities yourselves.”

Noah accepted the criticism without argument. He had noticed the same weakness during the match.

As the squads left the arena, he glanced toward the observation balcony. Elias Rumo stood among the older students, applauding politely.

Their eyes met.

Elias smiled and gave Noah a small nod before turning toward the stairs.

Noah watched him leave for a moment, then followed his friends.

For now, there was a victory to celebrate, lessons to learn, and another day of academy life waiting beyond the arena doors.

By the time Squad Seven left the training arena, Eric had already declared their victory a historic achievement.

“Three points, one brilliant formation, and absolutely no serious injuries,” he announced, walking backward in front of the others. “I believe we deserve a statue.”

“A statue of what?” Damien asked.

“Me, obviously.”

“Then I’d rather we lose the next match.”

Luna laughed, while Sophia shook her head with an expression that suggested she had endured this conversation far too many times.

Noah walked beside them, listening to their arguments as they crossed the courtyard. His muscles ached, and his grip still felt the lingering strain of the final exchange with Stellan. Yet the discomfort was different from what he had experienced after Hildgard.

Back then, every battle had demanded that he survive.

Here, he could afford to think about how to improve.

It was a welcome change.

“Are you even listening?” Eric asked.

“No.”

“At least you’re honest.”

Eric turned toward the others. “Our captain has already abandoned us emotionally.”

“I’m not your captain.”

“You made the calls during the match. That’s captain behavior.”

“Then you can make the calls next time.”

Eric’s smile faltered.

Damien immediately laughed. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Traitors. All of you.”

They reached the dining hall shortly before the lunch rush. Several students from other freshman squads recognized them from the exercise, and a few offered congratulations. Squad Four’s members were seated near the windows, discussing their defeat with Stellan. When Noah passed their table, Stellan lifted his cup in acknowledgment.

Noah returned the gesture before joining his friends.

For once, nobody was discussing Hildgard, mysterious ruins, or the strange force that lived inside Noah’s mind.

They argued about food instead.

Eric insisted that the academy’s roasted meat was better than anything served in the tournament town. Sophia disagreed, Luna wanted dessert, and Damien attempted to convince everyone that he could cook better than the academy’s chefs.

“You once burned water,” Luna reminded him.

“That was an experimental technique.”

“It was a kettle.”

“A complicated kettle.”

Noah nearly choked on his drink.

For a little while, the world felt wonderfully ordinary.

That afternoon, Professor Astrid Veyr gathered the participating squads in a smaller lecture room.

The Freshman Squad Exercise would continue throughout the week, she explained. Each squad would face opponents selected according to their previous performances, with instructors observing teamwork, tactical judgment, and individual development.

“Winning matters,” Astrid said, writing three words on the board. “But it is not the only measurement that matters.”

She underlined adaptability, discipline, and independent judgment.

“Squad Seven performed well today because its members adapted when their original plan became ineffective. However, you relied on a single person to identify most of those adjustments.”

Her eyes settled briefly on Noah.

“Next time, I expect every member to recognize at least one opportunity without waiting for instructions.”

Eric leaned toward Noah. “Congratulations. You’re officially unemployed.”

Noah ignored him.

Astrid continued explaining how the next matches would be arranged. Squad Seven would receive its next opponent after the instructors reviewed the afternoon’s results. Until then, the students were free to attend their scheduled classes and training sessions.

As the lecture ended, Noah remained seated for a moment.

He had spent so long relying on instinct, improvisation, and the overwhelming power of Ragnarok that working within a team still felt unfamiliar. When danger appeared, his first impulse was to take control and solve the problem himself.

That habit had saved his life more than once.

It could also become a weakness.

You understand the problem, Dead Zone remarked.

I understand that you enjoy pointing out my problems.

Someone has to.

Noah stood and followed his friends into the corridor.

Near the courtyard entrance, Laura waited with a book tucked beneath one arm.

“How did the match go?”

“We won,” Eric answered before Noah could speak. “And Noah only looked like he was planning to die twice.”

“Three times,” Sophia corrected.

“Those were tactical expressions.”

Laura smiled. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Noah said. “Astrid thinks we rely on me too much.”

“She might be right.”

Noah gave her a wounded look. “You could pretend to disagree.”

“I could, but that wouldn’t help you.”

Eric pointed at Laura. “See? This is why I prefer people who appreciate my genius.”

“Your genius burned out when you tried to cook breakfast,” Damien said.

Their conversation dissolved into another argument, and Laura walked beside Noah as they headed toward the main building.

“You seem more comfortable here,” she observed.

Noah glanced across the courtyard. Students hurried between classes, instructors supervised practice sessions, and the distant training bells marked the beginning of another afternoon.

“I think I am,” he admitted. “For the first time in a while, I can worry about something that isn’t trying to kill me.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“That’s an unsettling way to encourage someone.”

“I’m learning from you.”

Noah laughed.

Above the courtyard, the academy banners shifted in the breeze. There would be more matches, more difficult lessons, and more opportunities for his squad to improve.

For now, Noah intended to take the next step without trying to carry everyone himself.

And somewhere within his consciousness, Dead Zone remained silent, listening.