Chapter 18: A magical display
Wesley lingered near the wall, clutching the half-broken mop like it was both a shield and a burden. The air inside the arena had shifted again—no longer loud with jokes and teasing, but not yet quiet. There was tension beneath the surface, like something unspoken waiting to settle.
He kept glancing around. The mission panel—the phantom box only he could see—still hadn’t reappeared. His brows furrowed.
Why isn’t there a mission popping up? he wondered, confused. Is it because there are too many people here? Instructor Heiron and his students clearly plan to use this arena. Maybe I should just head to another area...
He began to turn, slow and cautious, planning to find a quieter corner to clean. But the moment his foot shifted from the edge of the mat—
"Cleaners. Stay put."
Instructor Heiron’s voice cut through the air like a spell. Calm. Inevitable.
Wesley froze in mid-step. The other cleaners looked up from their idle chatter, standing straighter again. Wesley turned back, halfway raising his hand in a polite gesture.
"Sir," he said hesitantly, "may I—uh—I was just going to switch cleaning sectors. I mean... I can’t clean here properly right now." He lifted his mop, holding the broken, splintered shaft with both hands. "And, uh... this is broken. From the earlier spar."
Heiron’s eyes fell on the mop. He walked forward, stopping just in front of Wesley.
"Bring it here."
Wesley blinked. "Sir?"