Robert lowered the stick just slightly, watching with a smirk curling at the edge of his mouth.
Then, slowly turning, he raised the stick and pointed it across the field — straight at the rest of the students who stood frozen, shocked, and some even pale as ghosts beneath the morning sun.
"Remember," Robert's voice thundered, now sharp and cutting like steel drawn across stone, "this was just the example."
"I don't care whether you are in the Aether Class or in the Wyrd — it makes no damn difference for me. If I catch even one of you stopping before the end of your twentieth lap…"
He paused, narrowing his eyes, his voice sinking into something far more dangerous — calm.
**"…you already know what happens. And let me make this extremely clear—Warnings are only for the First Time, the second time there will be no warnings."
For a moment, silence. No one breathed. Even the sound of feet pounding the earth seemed to hesitate.
Then—
