Martial Demons Ascension

Rhyka sat back in his chair, posture relaxed but his mind sharp He wasn't careless. He knew exactly what he had just done.

By tearing up Eto's notes in front of everyone, by throwing sharp words at her, he hadn't just insulted Eto herself He had spat in the faces of all her little orbiters the admirers who propped her up, defended her, and lashed out at anyone who didn't worship her They were many, and their anger was obvious.

But that was the point.

His humiliation two days ago had spread like rot, staining his name until it became a punchline If he wanted to scrape that stain away, hiding wasn't going to do it. Playing nice wasn't going to do it He had to take the weight of what was done to him and throw it back at them, tenfold Each insult, each sneer, each whispered joke they all had to be crushed under something heavier.

This was only the start.

Emmet, for his part, was no fool.

He didn't miss the undercurrent running through the room He'd seen the glances exchanged, the way Rin's fists clenched under her desk, the way Millis had snorted under his breath, the stiff posture of Hella as she whispered quietly to him Even without his senses, the hostility was thick enough to choke on.

And he knew where the center of it was: Rhyka.

Whatever had changed in the boy, it hadn't only made him faster, sharper, or more confident It had also shifted the entire balance of the classroom around him. Emmet could feel the split widening resentment piling against Rhyka, guilt smoldering in Eto, quiet distance growing around Rinnte He made a mental note: he'd need to handle this carefully, or the situation would tear the class apart.

When the bell rang for a short break, the tension didn't dissolve.

Chairs scraped, papers rustled, feet shuffled across the floor, but no one laughed or spoke as freely as usual The usual clusters of students formed, but the air felt brittle, like the wrong word could shatter it.

Rin wasted no time She stood from her desk, her chair skidding just a little too loudly across the floor, and made her way across the aisle Her steps were quick, clipped, purposeful Her eyes didn't leave her target.

Millis and Hella.

The two had already shifted their chairs slightly to face one another, speaking in low tones, but Rin's arrival cut through their conversation like a knife She leaned down, bracing one hand on Millis's desk, the other on her hip, posture firm and commanding.

Whatever she had to say, it wasn't going to be casual.

Millis looked up at her, brows raised in mild surprise, then curiosity Hella tilted her head, expression sharp, measuring Rin's mood instantly.

Rhyka, from across the room, caught the movement He didn't turn his head, but his eyes flicked in their direction, tracking His lips pressed into the faintest line as he realized what was happening.

He'd offended Eto He'd baited her admirers. And now Rin was moving to rally them.

Exactly as he expected.

Exactly as he wanted.

When Rin leaned into Millis and Hella's space, most of Eto's orbiters turned their heads to listen Some shifted closer, curious, their faces tight with irritation They hadn't liked Rhyka tearing up Eto's notes or insulting her outright, but their opinions weren't as unified as Rin expected.

A thin, sharp-faced boy spoke first, his voice low but firm.

"Rin… just leave it Let him rot That's punishment enough."

Another girl followed, adjusting her glasses, tone clipped.

"He's already at the bottom Familyless, no magic, no friends What more do you want? Let him stew in it He'll stay pitiful without us lifting a finger."

A third chimed in, arms crossed.

"If you keep pressing him, you'll just give him more attention He wants that Just ignore him He's beneath us."

Rin blinked, caught off guard by their restraint She had expected fire, expected them to rally behind her and call for retaliation Instead, their annoyance was cold, dismissive.

But Hella didn't share that restraint.

She leaned back in her chair, arms folded, a smirk tugging at her lips She tilted her head toward Rin and Millis before speaking loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

"Sure, we could ignore him. Let him crawl back to whatever hole he belongs in But isn't it funny? He doesn't even have a hole to crawl back to No family No magic Nothing Just a stray dog gnawing at scraps No wonder he lashes out."

A ripple went through the cluster of students. A few smirked nervously, some winced, others went silent The words cut deeper than casual teasing.

Millis barked out a laugh, slapping his palm against his desk for emphasis.

"She's right. What's he got? No home, no bloodline, no status He's a magicless stray. A mutt without even an owner His family probably ditched him because they realized he was worthless."

Hella's eyes gleamed at the reaction she got, leaning in with more venom.

"Can you imagine? No parents to defend him No siblings Nobody waiting for him after class Just that empty bed he crawls into at night Pathetic, isn't it? Like a beggar pretending he belongs among mages He should be grateful we even let him sit in the same room."

She paused, then delivered the harshest line yet, voice cold and deliberate.

"He doesn't have a family because no one wanted him He's less than pitiful he's disposable."

The class froze.

Rinnte's jaw clenched so tight his teeth nearly ground together He had braced himself for cruelty before, but hearing it spelled out like that still shocked him His eyes widened, disbelief mixing with anger.

Eto's hand shot to her mouth, eyes wide. Her face flushed red not from embarrassment, but from shame The insult wasn't just cruel, it was cruel in a way that couldn't be taken back.

And Rhyka?

He sat there, posture unchanged, his face carefully blank Outwardly, he looked furious the slight narrowing of his eyes, the rigid line of his jaw, the controlled stillness of his body all screamed contained rage He looked like someone barely holding himself back.

But inwardly?

Nothing.

Not anger Not sorrow Just emptiness.

The truth was, he had no family He had lived with that absence long enough that Hella's words landed on barren ground It didn't sting because there was nothing left there to sting.

Still, the image mattered So he let the fury show on his face, let his silence read as simmering anger.

Because indifference wouldn't wash away the humiliation Rage would.

And if Hella wanted to dig that grave deeper, Rhyka was already planning how he would bury her with it.