THE NEXT DAY
XAVIER'S POINT OF VIEW:
The classroom hadn't changed. Same creaky windows. Same dusty beams. Same chalkboard that never quite got clean. But the moment I stepped in, all eyes turned. Some with respect. Some with envy. I was used to attention, but right now, it grated more than it flattered. My mind wasn't here it was still in the woods, in the blood, in the quiet presence of a masked omega I couldn't stop thinking about. Then my gaze landed on him. Villiam Blackstone.
He was seated near the back. Mask still on. Arms crossed. Perfect posture, like a statue made of ice. Everyone else buzzed and whispered, but not him. He didn't even look at me. I didn't know why, but that annoyed me. Before I could study him longer, the door snapped open with military precision.
"Seats!" barked professor Denlor, our homeroom teacher. A Beta. A gruff voice, sharp eyes, smelled like chalk and old books. "Now that Prince Xavier has finally rejoined us, we begin."
Everyone shuffled and sat. I slipped into a seat, still watching Blackstone from the corner of my eye. Denlor tapped the board with a stick.
"We have news. A special academy wide contest begins in two weeks."Professor said.
Instant reaction. The room came alive with whispers, gasps, low grins from competitive alphas and determined betas.
"Each track will compete." He continued. "Combat, strategy, agility, and archery. You'll be judged both individually and as a class."
I heard Ren suck in a breath beside me.
"This is it." he muttered. "The real deal."
"There will be rankings." Denlor said, glancing across the room like he could smell weakness. "The top students will receive public recognition and academy favor. And the winner of each track... may receive special mentorship from the Grand Instructors."
More gasps. That was big. That meant exposure. Real attention. Power. Denlor clapped his hands once.
"And to begin the first preparations, archery Instructor Jackson will be leading today's demonstration."He said.
The door creaked open again. Jackson, a tall omega with thick gloves and calloused hands, strode in carrying a long cloth-covered case.
"Morning, brats." He said. "Let's see who can actually hold a bow without crying about their wrist."
A few students chuckled. Jakson's gaze flicked to me. Then Villiam. He squinted slightly.
"New faces, huh."Jackson said.
"Villiam Blackstone," Denlor said. "Transferred during your absence."
Jakson looked him over.
"You any good with a bow, Blackstone?"He asked.
Villiam tilted his head slightly.
"Good enough."He said.
The room quieted. It wasn't cocky, how he said it. Just flat. Confident like stone. Jackson raised a brow.
"We'll see."He said.
The training field was alive with the sharp, metallic clang of arrows hitting targets, mixed with the sounds of instructors giving guidance and students practicing their stances. The morning air was crisp, the sun a little higher than usual for our training, making it feel like everything was perfectly aligned for a good session. I was adjusting my quiver, ready to follow our instructor, Mr. Jackson's, next set of instructions. The usual faces surrounded me fellow students who were good at archery, but no one stood out like Villiam Blackstone.
Villiam had been quietly preparing his own bow at the edge of the field. I couldn't help but watch him. There was something about the way he moved. It was calculated, and purposeful. He didn't speak much, but there was an air of quiet authority surrounding him.
"Villiam." I called out, my voice breaking the stillness around him.
He turned his head slightly, the usual coolness in his eyes. No emotion, no words. Just silence. I raised an eyebrow.
"You're not going to use one of the academy bows?" I asked, noticing that he had yet to pick one from the rack.
Without a word, Villiam made his way over to where the rest of the bows were stored, but instead of grabbing one of the polished, finely made bows hanging there, he reached for something else. Something that didn't belong to the academy's collection.
When Villiam pulled out his bow, it was almost like time slowed for a moment. The wood was dark, and there were marks and scratches, signs of wear and use. It was rough around the edges, but there was something... real about it.
"Is that…?" Jackson's voice trailed off as he walked over, his curiosity piqued by the strange weapon in Villiam's hands.
Villiam held the bow lightly, but with an obvious understanding of its weight and form.
"It's mine." He said quietly, no boast, just a simple statement. He didn't elaborate.
Jackson raised an eyebrow, inspecting the bow closely, turning it in his hands.
"You made this yourself?" His voice was almost incredulous. "This isn't some fancy store bought thing. This has history to it."
Villiam didn't respond, his attention already turning back to the target field. He was calm, steady. It was clear he wasn't looking for approval, but the attention was on him now, whether he liked it or not.
"Hmm." Jackson ran his fingers over the wood, tapping it once or twice, listening to the sound it made. "This wood... it's dense, durable, but it's rough. Doesn't match the fine craftsmanship we usually see. You hunt with this thing?"
Villiam finally looked up, his expression unreadable.
"Yeah. It works."Villiam said.
The rest of the class was watching now, murmurs circulating between the students. No one had seen anything like this before. Most of us had never used a bow like this.
"Alright then." Jackson said, snapping his fingers. "Let's see what you can do with it."
Without a word, Villiam turned toward the field as his form was precise, relaxed but purposeful. There were no dramatic gestures, no unnecessary movements. Just clean, efficient motions as he notched an arrow.
Jackson was watching carefully, and so was everyone else. It was as if we all knew we were about to witness something different. Villiam pulled the string back, focusing on the target. Then, in a smooth motion, he released the arrow. It cut through the air with a sharp whoosh, and before anyone could blink, it struck the target dead center. The entire class went silent.
I hadn't even seen him fully aim, one second he was pulling the string back, and the next, the arrow was buried deep in the bullseye. It wasn't just accuracy, it was effortless.
Jackson didn't say anything for a moment. He simply looked at Villiam, as if trying to process what had just happened. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again.
"Alright, alright." Jackson said finally, snapping out of his surprise. "That's impressive. But let's see if you can handle moving targets." He motioned to the rest of the field. "I've got some targets lined up that are a little less... static."
He signaled, and suddenly, the targets began to shift, moving at varying speeds across the field. They darted, zigzagged, and wove through the air, mimicking real-life situations that a hunter might face. The first moving target shot across his line of sight, fast, unpredictable and just like that, Villiam released the arrow.
It hit the target, center mass, with perfect timing. The speed of the arrow, the precision, it was all so natural, so fluid, it left me speechless.
"Well, damn."Jackson said. "Take notes." He said dryly, though there was admiration in his voice. "That's how it's done."
But Villiam wasn't done. He pulled out another arrow, still focused, still poised. Another moving target streaked across the field faster than the last one, erratic. Without hesitation, Villiam loosed the arrow. Once again, the arrow hit its mark. There was no showmanship. There was no excessive celebration. Villiam simply lowered his bow, gave a small nod of satisfaction, and stood there, watching the targets.
"Do you mind if I give it a try?" Jackson asked, his curiosity clear as he motioned toward Villiam's handmade bow.
Villiam didn't even look up.
"Go ahead." He said.
Jackson was momentarily speechless, inspecting the bow again.
"Alright. Let's see what I can do with it."Jackson said.
He pulled the bowstring back, aiming carefully, and let the arrow fly. It didn't even come close to the precision Villiam had shown. It hit the outer rim of the target, barely skimming the bullseye.
"I see now." Jackson muttered. "You weren't kidding about being good. I think it's safe to say you've got this." He said with a slight chuckle.
As we moved on to the next part of the lesson, I couldn't stop watching him. There was something about Villiam something that didn't fit in here, but at the same time I wanted learn more myself.