Chapter 12: Jealous Rivals

The bell for morning classes chimed again, a second, more insistent peal that cut through the profound silence in the secondary practice yard. Bima stood tall, the faint cerulean mist from his fingertips dissipated, leaving only the clean, crisp air and the undeniable proof of his advanced restoration spell. Renn, his arm completely healed, stared at his blemish-free skin as if it were a foreign object. Lyra, the agile girl who had caused the injury, had her hand clamped over her mouth, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and dawning respect.

Jax, however, remained frozen, his smirk utterly erased. His mouth was slightly agape, and his eyes, usually so full of arrogant disdain, were now wide with pure, unadulterated disbelief. He looked from Renn’s arm to Bima’s calm face, as if trying to reconcile the image of the ‘Nothing-Ball’ boy with the mage who had just effortlessly mended a nasty energy burn.

"It’s… it’s truly gone," Renn whispered, flexing his arm, a note of awe in his voice. "Not even a tingle." He looked at Bima, his expression shifting from shock to gratitude. "Thank you, Bima. Seriously. That was… incredible."

"I just followed the flow," Bima said, a quiet sense of triumph settling in his chest. His voice was steady, free of the usual stutter. The feeling of the mana, calm and resonant within him, was a powerful anchor.

Lyra, tears still glistening in her eyes, rushed forward. "Bima, I am so sorry, and thank you! I thought Renn was going to be scarred for weeks! How did you do that? I’ve never seen a first-year perform a full restoration like that."

"He’s not supposed to," Jax snarled, finally finding his voice. He stalked forward, his eyes narrowed into slits of suspicion and envy. "That was a high-level mend. You don't just 'follow the flow' and get that kind of precision, Bima. You’re lying. You must have used some kind of artifact, or… or dark magic!"

Bima met Jax’s gaze, his own unwavering. "I didn't use anything, Jax. I just did what was necessary."

"Necessary?" Jax scoffed, his voice rising, trying to regain his usual bullying swagger. "Don't pretend you’re some kind of hero. You’re the lowest-ranked student in the academy. You couldn't cast a decent combustion spell to save your life! Now you’re suddenly a master healer? Don't make me laugh!"

"I saw him, Jax," Renn interjected, stepping between Bima and Jax. "He didn’t use anything. Just his hands. The light was… I’ve never seen mana flow like that."

"Are you blind, Renn?" Jax spat. "He’s been hiding something. This has to be a trick. No one goes from 'Nothing-Ball' to 'Master Healer' overnight! It’s impossible!"

The other students, who had slowly started to disperse towards their first classes, paused, whispering amongst themselves. Their previous awe was now tainted with doubt, fueled by Jax’s accusations.

"He’s right, though," one student muttered, barely audible. "It doesn't make sense. He was awful just yesterday."

"Maybe he was always good," another countered, "and just didn't want anyone to know."

The whispers spread like wildfire, a low hum of speculation filling the yard. Bima could feel the shift in their gazes, the suspicion replacing the wonder. He was no longer just the joke; he was an enigma, and an unsettling one at that.

"What if he’s right, Bima?" Lyra whispered, her earlier gratitude tinged with uncertainty. "Where did you learn such powerful magic?"

Bima looked at her, then at Renn, who still looked at him with a mix of gratitude and confusion. He couldn't tell them about the book, or Kirill, or the fractured mana core that had somehow reset itself. They wouldn't understand, and it would only lead to more questions, more trouble.

"I’ve been practicing," Bima said, his voice flat. "That’s all."

"Practicing what? Dark arts?" Jax sneered, taking another step forward. His friends, emboldened by his renewed aggression, began to form a semi-circle around Bima. "Come on, Bima. Tell us. Who's your secret tutor? Did you sell your soul for some quick power? Or did you just steal some forbidden spell scroll from the Restricted Section?"

The mention of the Restricted Section sent a fresh wave of murmurs through the students. The whispers were no longer just about his talent; they were about the legitimacy of it.

"I didn't steal anything," Bima said, keeping his voice even. "And I didn't sell my soul. I just learned to use my mana differently."

"Differently?" Jax scoffed. "You mean illegally! That kind of power, out of nowhere? Halloway is going to have a field day with this. You’re going to be expelled, Bima. Or worse. They'll probably lock you up for dabbling in forbidden magic."

"He was helping Renn!" Lyra protested, stepping forward again, though her voice wavered.

"He was showing off, Lyra!" Jax shouted. "He wants to embarrass us. Wants to make us look like fools for struggling when he had some secret power all along! It's an insult!"

"It wasn't an insult, Jax," Bima said, taking a step back, not in fear, but to create space. "It was a healing. Renn was in pain."

"Oh, now you’re concerned about pain?" Jax mocked, pushing his chest out. "You’ve caused enough pain to everyone else in this academy with your incompetence. Now you're acting all righteous?" He suddenly lunged forward, grabbing Bima’s tunic with a clenched fist. "I think we need to teach you a lesson about humility, Bima. A little 'practical' demonstration of what happens when you think you're above the rules."

Bima felt the rough fabric of his tunic tighten around his neck. Jax’s face was inches from his, contorted with rage and jealousy. He could feel the familiar, suffocating heat of a confrontation, the kind that usually sent him scurrying away. But this time, it was different.

His mana hummed, a low, steady thrum against his chest, a calming presence amidst the rising storm. He remembered Kirill’s words: “Do not flatter yourself, Bima. I am invested in the outcome.” This wasn't just about Jax. This was about proving himself worthy of the path he was now walking.

"Let go, Jax," Bima said, his voice calm, cutting through the tension. He didn't raise his voice, but the sheer lack of fear in his tone made Jax’s grip falter for a split second.

"Or what?" Jax hissed, pulling Bima closer. "You'll heal me? Or blast me with some of your secret dark magic?"

Bima looked Jax directly in the eye, and for the first time, Jax flinched. There was a cold, quiet intensity in Bima’s gaze that Jax had never seen before—a depth that spoke of battles fought and survived, not on a training dummy, but in the desolate corners of his own despair.

"I'm not here to fight you, Jax," Bima said, his voice dropping slightly, "but I'm not going to run anymore. You can keep your anger, you can keep your resentment. It means nothing to me. I have other things to worry about."

Jax stared at him, bewildered by the defiance. He expected fear, a stutter, a plea for mercy. This calm, unyielding resolve was unsettling. He let go of Bima’s tunic, his hand falling to his side, but his jaw remained clenched.

"What are you talking about, Bima?" Jax finally managed, his voice losing some of its bluster. "What 'other things'?"

"Things that matter more than your petty ranking games," Bima replied, looking past Jax at the stunned faces of the other students. "Things that none of you understand."

He turned and began to walk away, his steps measured and deliberate. He didn't run, didn't sneak. He simply walked toward the exit of the practice yard, leaving the murmuring, bewildered students in his wake.

Jax watched him go, his face slowly transforming from shock to a simmering, dangerous fury. His friends, seeing Bima’s calm retreat, also seemed confused.

"You just let him walk away?" one of them, a bulky boy named Goran, asked, incredulous.

Jax clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. "No. I didn't 'let' him do anything. He just… he just rattled me. The nerve of him. Talking down to me like that. Like he’s better." He spat on the ground. "He's going to regret that. He’s going to regret that he ever showed his face again."

He turned to Goran and the others, a malicious gleam in his eyes. "He thinks he’s so clever, doesn't he? Showing off his 'hidden talent.' Well, we’ll show him what happens when you try to pull one over on us."

"What are you planning, Jax?" Goran asked, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face.

"He thinks he can just waltz into the Dean’s office and retrieve his 'confiscated' items, doesn't he?" Jax sneered, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He thinks he’s going to challenge Halloway and get away with it. Well, I heard Halloway talking to the Head Warden this morning. They know he’s going to try. The Dean's office is already a trap."

Goran chuckled darkly. "So we just… let him walk into it?"

"No," Jax said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "We make sure he doesn't even get to the Dean’s office. We make sure he gets lost on the way. Permanently." He looked at his friends, a cold fire in his eyes. "He wants to be a ghost? We'll make him one. Meet me behind the old alchemy labs after curfew. We’ll show Bima what real 'flow' looks like. The flow of blood."

The bell for morning classes chimed a final, lingering note, but in the secondary practice yard, a different kind of lesson was already taking shape—a lesson of jealousy, vengeance, and a promise of violence that Bima was still blissfully unaware of. The hunt, it seemed, was truly on.