The Good Teacher

"Pathetic!"

In the stands embedded in the cliff-side at the back of the auditorium, within one of the more elaborate covered viewing boxes, a girl barely into her mid-teens, spat out in disgust at the "embarrassing" display below her. Her piercing blue eyes were languid as they scanned over the two individuals confronting each other on stage. She shifted a strand of her void-black hair draped over her eyes and on her marble-like smooth skin, behind her ear.

"Why am I here again?" She exclaimed. "There are so many other vermin beneath me who can handle this!"

"The Sect Leader asked for the Young Miss specifically," a deep male voice answered. From the shadows, an immaculately dressed man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties stepped forth. He sported a perfectly trimmed blonde beard and moustache that connected with his golden-blonde hair. His square face was a shade paler than everyone else around him, and his hazel eyes betrayed his foreign heritage.

"What have I done that's gotten father so angry?" She snorted. "If this is his way to punish me for a mistake I've made, tell him that I am not impressed. How can I correct myself if I don't even know what I've done wrong?"

"This isn't punishment," the man answered with a flat tone. This entire time, his face had remained perfectly stoic. If not for the frequent yet imperceptible oscillations of his chest, one could easily confuse him for a statue.

"Then?"

The man remained silent and shared a meaningful gaze with the younger woman. Her eyes narrowed in response while her mind whirred into motion in an attempt to interpret the meaning behind the man's cryptic stare. After a short minute, she exhaled loudly in annoyance and complained, "Fuck it! I don't care. I'm leaving!"

"Young Miss..." the man pleaded without a waver in his voice.

"Tell me, or I'm leaving."

"The victors need to be awarded," the man reasoned.

The girl clicked her tongue and shot back, "Not my problem."

The man positioned himself in front of the retreating girl, blocking her path.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" The girl threatened with a sneer. "You forget, Korr, that your life is not yours anymore."

The man did not falter. "While this slave's life is tethered to the Young Miss', his allegiance is to the Sect Leader first."

"It will be your word against mine, Korr," the girl said with a fake pout. She then proceeded to tear her dress from the collar while whimpering, "What would father do if he found out that his most loyal servant defiled his only daughter?" Her hands jerked wildly, revealing a set of immature lumps fixed in place with a turn of sturdy cotton. "Maybe he won't believe me, because I know he trusts you more than any of his own flesh and blood. BUT, do you think he will remain still after this news becomes public? To him, is your life worth more than his face?"

The man stared listlessly at the girl attempting to put on a solo-act, without moving a muscle.

The girl looked pointedly at the statue of a man for a charged minute, before lowering her hands casually. As she did so, her torn clothes started to regenerate at a visible pace, immediately covering her up. "You're no fun. Now stop wasting my time and tell me why I'm here?"

"The victors need to be awarded," the man repeated while nudging an overlooked stack of papers on the table next to the girl. Her eyes followed suit and perused through its contents. Midway through, her mouth widened into a knowing smile, before settling at a confused frown.

"He wants me to build up my own force of loyalists? Why?" The girl inquired. "Does he want me to compete with my elder brothers?"

The man nodded.

"What use is dipping into the Outer Division for this? Shouldn't I be corralling support from the Inner Division?"

"The Young Miss must already know that the First and Second Young masters have already cornered all the impactful members from the Inner and Core Divisions."

"Then what's the point?" The girl sighed.

The man paused and gazed into the distance. "When prey is cornered, that is when it is the most dangerous. With a well-placed bite at the jugular, even a rabbit can kill a distracted lion."

"Are you comparing me to a bunny?" The girl chuckled.

"This slave asks the Young Miss to evaluate the proposition," Korr emphasised.

"I know, I know. Elder brothers have become complacent. Their play at succession has become a childish tug of war. The Sect has become stale. The Elders bicker amongst each other, the Inner and Core Divisions are filled with wastrels and yes-men. Father wants me to add fuel to the fire by shaking up the balance in the upper divisions and raising prospective supporters brimming with the fire of ambition. That's why he is willing to give me access to all of these weapons, potions and manuals as a reward for this tournament," the girl said while pointing at the stack of papers.

"But the fact remains, why me and why now?" She added. "I've been actively staying out of this power struggle for a reason. Why would I voluntarily jump into a pool of headaches by becoming the Sect Leader?"

"The confidence that Young Miss just displayed is part of the reason," Korr replied. "The Young Miss will be more successful and more capable of raising the Cloudstrider Sect to new heights."

"Are those your words or fathers?"

"This slave believes that the answer is irrelevant. What matters more is whether the Young Miss is willing to step on this path? As the Young Miss already stated, success is a foregone conclusion after all."

The girl revealed a savage grin that warped her pure face and said, "If father really intends to go ahead with this, he must be aware of how I operate. Blood will be spilt. A lot of it."

"What must be done-" The man stopped mid-sentence and jerked his head towards a specific location in the bleachers. His unperturbed face cracked with a frown and his eyes narrowed.

"What's the matter?" The girl inquired.

"I sense Elder Glista's token in the crowd," the man extended his index finger and pointed toward an individual in the crowd. "That boy."

"Ha! He stands out like a sore thumb in a sea of black," the girl snorted. "How does he blend in so well? No one's even noticed his presence."

Korr's frown deepened. "He's passively manipulating the surrounding mana to block his sound and smell, as well as redirecting the light rays reflecting from him. Apart from that, his aura - or sense of presence - is completely suppressed."

"Passively? Without spellcasting?" The girl exclaimed in surprise. "If I remember correctly, that Battle Maniac pushed for two all-access tokens. If one is here, where is the other?"

"The second should be in the Archives."

"WHAT?!" The girl bellowed in anger. "That old man acts as though the Sect is his - the Archives hold the history and workings of our Sect and he just let a stranger have complete access to it? He dares to ask for not one but two all-access tokens with no reasoning whatsoever. Is this Sect his personal playground?"

"Elder Glista is a key pillar of the Sect," Korr reminded. "He doesn't ask for much-"

"But when he does, it's something monumental like this! The man needs to be put in his place," The girl scratched her chin in thought before continuing. "Since I will have to stake my claim for the leadership, I must achieve something exemplary to stand-out."

Her lips parted with a ruthless grin as she wetted her lips with her tongue. She extended her finger and traced the boy's face in mid-air playfully, "He shall be the first stepping stone. Tell me about him, Korr!"

Being in the Core Formation realm, Korr had little difficulty extending his mana sense to |Inspect| the lad. "Foundation Establishment realm, Base stage, just like the Young Miss. By my estimate, fourteen to fifteen years old. He should be affiliated with Teacher Jeeves-"

"The 'Polymath'? I thought the Battle Maniac and Al Jeeves were bone-deep rivals? He would do a favour like this to the man that defeated him?" The girl scoffed. "How is the boy related to Al Jeeves?"

"Student or a Disciple. His musculature indicates that he has little to no experience with martial arts."

"So he takes after his Teacher."

"Unfortunately, from what I could gather by sensing his cultivation, it isn't something I have experienced before," Korr concluded while shaking his head.

"It matters little," the girl dismissed. "The Deceitful-Mist Bladesmanship is devised to specifically counter spellcasters."

"How does the miss wish to proceed?"

"If the boy IS intimate with Teacher Jeeves, he will be smart and not fall for a direct provocation. He needs to be cornered into a confrontation," the girl muttered. After a short pause to formulate a plan she turned to Korr and rattled out a series of instructions.

"This slave shall make it so," Korr bowed and turned to leave.

"Wait!" the girl commanded. "Activate the Life-and-Death Formation."

"Young Miss!" Korr rebutted.

"Are you worried that I will lose the confrontation?" The girl challenged.

"That isn't so. It is unadvisable to mortally wound Elder Glista's guest-"

"I know! Don't treat me like an idiot!" She snapped back. "The boy will definitely surrender before the match even begins. The Life-and-Death Formation assures the start of the match. After that, I will just have to make my move before he can audibly throw the towel. Once the blows are exchanged, he won't have the sense to extricate himself from the fight."

"But Young Miss, once the Life-and-Death Formation is initiated, it cannot be stopped."

"That is unless someone in an Elder's position interferes," the girl hinted mysteriously.

"This slave understands," Korr nodded affirmatively. "This slave shall make it so."

And with that said, Korr disappeared in a haze flash. The girl stroked her chin and licked her lips once again as a sense of morbid intoxication washed over her. "It's been some time since by blade has spilt blood. You poor boy, don't disappoint me."