Villainous Instructor at the Academy

Fourth day morning.

The cold stone pressed against my back as I leaned against the cave wall, sipping on bitter tea from a cracked tin cup. The taste hadn’t improved in the past few days, but the warmth it brought to my throat was welcome. Outside, dawn broke lazily over the jagged ridges of Black Stone Mountain, casting bruised violet and rust-orange light across the valley below.

My students stirred slowly, groaning and stretching beneath mismatched blankets. Today was the fourth day. A "rest day," according to the Blue Bird’s cryptic announcement. But I knew better. Nothing about this mountain had been restful since the trial began.

"Hey, Professor," Felix’s voice pierced the peace like a thrown rock in still water, "if a dragon and a giant chicken got into a fight, who do you think would win?"

I didn’t answer right away.

He was crouched near the fire pit, poking at the embers like they held answers to life’s mysteries. His wild hair stuck up at odd angles, and he wore his sleeveless uniform top like a badge of pride, even in the chill.

"I mean," he continued, gesturing animatedly, "the dragon has fire, flight, claws—sure. But hear me out—what if the chicken was, like, really pissed off? Ancient beast-level poultry. Big enough to peck down a tree."

"Felix," I said, sipping again, "go bother Julien with your nonsense. He’s better at talking to livestock."

Julien snorted from across the cave, lying on his back with an arm flung over his face. "You’re lucky I’m too full to get up and slap you, chicken-boy."

"See?" Felix grinned. "He’s scared. He knows the giant chicken wins."

Mira let out a long sigh and sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "I swear, if I have to listen to one more of your idiotic hypotheticals before breakfast, I’ll feed you to a real chicken and see what happens."