The shards of Iruma's failed bow still lay scattered across the floor. Dust settled. The scent of burned feathers clung faintly to the air.
He stood again, fingers curled. Quiet. Focused.
"Try again," Bachiko said flatly.
Another attempt. This time, a large hybrid weapon formed—part bow, part shield.
Iruma raised it, the weight familiar. Something that can defend. Something that can protect.
But before he could even nock an arrow—
CRACK.
Bachiko smashed it again, unimpressed.
"Too soft." Her voice was sharp. "This isn't about protecting everyone. That's a dream, not a weapon."
She turned away. "One more try. That's it."
Iruma's crimson eyes narrowed.
"Why only one more?" he asked. "There are plenty of feathers left."
Bachiko paused at the door. Her tone turned cold.
"Because on the battlefield, you don't get second chances." She didn't look back. "The Harvest Festival won't be a test of your ideals. It'll be the test of whether you can act—without hesitation."
Without another word, she left.
--
Outside, Schenell trotted after her, glancing back nervously.
"You sure you wanna leave him like that?" he asked.
Bachiko didn't answer at first.
"Why not stick around until he gets it right?"
She muttered, almost too low to hear:
"Because if he's going to fail... better he does it now."
But her pace slowed. Her hand brushed the edge of her cloak.
The first one gave up after three days. Said it was boring. The next complained about her wrists. Then another… and another. Always the same. They never wanted to fight—they wanted to impress someone. To be praised. Coddled.
Her expression twisted.
So I stopped hoping. Stopped believing any of them could be a real archer.
But her gaze flicked back toward the tower behind them.
...He's still here. Still trying. Even after everything I've made him do.
--
Back in the clubroom, silence reigned.
Iruma stood alone, hand hovering over the feathers. He could feel Ali-san's presence whispering from the ring, the magic within pulsing. His chest tightened.
One shot.
He closed his eyes, remembering.
The pain of powerlessness.
The days of chasing behind.
The night of the Devil Moon.
And then—clarity.
A flash of lightning. A swirl of wind. The roar of fire.
He exhaled.
"Quartz—Quartz."
Magic roared.
Wind exploded around him, scattering papers, bending light. Lightning surged through the floor tiles, and fire danced at his feet in a perfect spiral.
From within that chaos, a bow formed.
Long and angular, yet impossibly elegant. The riser forged of obsidian-like blackwood, lined with golden etchings that pulsed with flame. Its limbs shimmered with flickering wind runes, and lightning coiled along the string like a viper ready to strike.
An arrow slowly materialized across the string—its head shaped like a spear of divine wrath, crackling with blue fire, wind currents spiraling around it. The magic was dense. Heavy. Alive.
A modern echo of the Indra Arrow—reborn, forged through flame, thunder, and sky.
Iruma opened his eyes. The Sharingan spun in one eye. A faint glimmer of violet flickered in the other.
"Ali-san," he whispered, the aura radiating from the bow dancing in sync with his heartbeat. "This… is mine."
--
The Misfit Class continued to claw their way through the hellish rigors of their training.
Vepar's domain remained a silent, suffocating abyss. Beneath the crushing pressure of endless water, Goemon and Agares floated unmoving—until subtle currents began to stir.
Lady Vepar, arms folded, stared into the depths. Her tone was cold, almost bored.
"Perhaps they've given up. My family was right—maybe I don't understand limits."
She paused. For a moment, she considered ending it.
But then—ripples fractured the still water. Two figures burst from beneath in synchronized precision.
Agares floated midair, soaked and expressionless. Goemon landed beside him with practiced grace, twin blades humming with demonic energy.
"Water… flows like air," Goemon said quietly, catching his breath. "All I had to do was breathe with it."
"And water is just another form of ground," Agares added, gaze narrowed. "You should've said that from the beginning."
Vepar blinked. Then smiled faintly, ignoring the scolding. "Congratulations. You've passed."
In another corner of Babyls, the Beast Cage echoed with roars.
Mr. Hat tipped his enormous hat as he observed the tamed chaos. Beasts obeyed Kerori's every word. Her poise. Her tone. Her mere presence. Even the wildest creature bowed.
"Such elegance. Such queenly dominance," he whispered.
Across the cage, Kamui stood tall, arms folded, animals surrounding him as if entranced.
"I… had more success with the females, naturally," he smirked.
Mr. Hat chuckled but made a note.
They understand contact. Presence. Connection. That's the essence of a summoner.
In the dark glow of a gaming den, Robin leaned back, brows furrowed. Another loss for Lied.
"Want to check on Iruma?" Robin asked casually.
"No. Let's go again," Lied said, jaw tight.
Robin almost pitied him. His mind's scattered… Maybe I should go easier.
But just before he could scale back—
VICTORY.
Robin stared at the screen in disbelief. Lied smirked.
"You dropped your guard," he said slyly.
Robin's eyes lit up in realization. "You lost those rounds on purpose… You've been reading me."
Suddenly, this was a real battle.
"That's what I like to see, Lied-kun!"
Meanwhile, Asmodeus and Sabnock rushed Balam in unison. Flames flared, fists flew, and for the first time—
Impact.
Balam blinked, surprised, before grinning broadly.
"That'll do. You've passed."
Asmodeus straightened his posture, panting slightly. "Thank you, Professor."
Sabnock laughed, flexing. "Told ya we'd land one!"
Balam observed them quietly. They were reckless. Impatient. But the moment they moved as one… they struck like true warriors.
Elsewhere, Raim sighed dramatically, watching Elizabetta with mild jealousy as beasts and demons alike swooned.
"You've become a true seductress," she praised.
But her mood soured when she glanced at Clara, still bouncing around like a hyper gremlin.
"But her… she's still just a child."
Then—hug.
A sudden ambush from behind. Clara's arms wrapped around Raim with the most innocent smile.
"You looked lonely!"
Raim froze, her face flushed with confusion.
What… is this warmth?
Clara giggled. "I call it the Ultimate Hug Technique!"
Raim gritted her teeth.
"You little monster… That's seduction through weaponized purity."