I finished the demonstration without incident, but the exchange lingered in my mind as I walked back to the dormitory. Dravid was watching me. Not in the general sense that faculty watched all students, but specifically. Actively. Looking for something he suspected was there but couldn’t quite prove.

Another variable to track. Another threat vector to manage.

The campaign finale arrived at dinner.

Caden stood on his chair at the 1-B table and announced his withdrawal from the representative race with the theatrical energy of someone who had been saving this performance for exactly the right moment.

"I’ve decided that my talents are better suited to advising than leading," he declared to the cafeteria at large. "Also, Lukas promised me better snacks at faculty meetings and I’m a simple man with simple needs. Vote Belmont. He’s less boring than Theo."

"Thanks," Theo said dryly from three seats away. "Really feeling the love."

"You’re welcome." Caden dropped back into his chair with a grin. "Also, for the record, Theo would make an excellent representative and this cohort would be lucky to have him. But Lukas has better hair and that matters in politics."

Marco threw a napkin at him. The table erupted in laughter.

The endorsement worked exactly as Caden had predicted. By the time dinner ended, three students who had been undecided approached me with questions about my platform. I answered each one honestly, which felt strange given how much of my existence at Halloran was built on lies.

I wanted better training accommodations for non-standard Aspect types. True.

I wanted transparent communication between faculty and students about curriculum changes. True.

I wanted to represent 1-B’s interests during joint practicals with 1-A because Cole Dravid would weaponize any weakness he found and I’d rather control that narrative than react to it. Extremely true.

By nine o’clock, Percy’s revised polling showed me at thirty-five percent, Theo at thirty-eight percent, and the remaining candidates splitting the difference. Close enough to matter. Close enough to win if I could find one more endorsement that carried weight.

I checked my phone. No messages from Camille.

The evening found me at Field Zeta for my training session with Hiro. The abandoned field looked different in the dying light, all long shadows and amber grass, the rusted bleachers casting geometric patterns across the ground.

Hiro was already there when I arrived. He stood in the center of the field with his Corona dimmed to maintenance levels, his perfect hair somehow maintaining its perfect styling despite the evening humidity.

"Heard you’re running for representative," he said by way of greeting.

"Word travels fast."

"Word travels at the speed of teenage gossip, which is approximately faster than light." He rolled his shoulders, loosening up for the session. "Also, Petra mentioned it at dinner. Loudly. With opinions."

"Let me guess. She thinks the democratic process is a formality that will confirm her predetermined superiority."

"Those weren’t her exact words, but the sentiment tracks." Hiro dropped into a fighting stance. "You going to win?"

"Planning on it."

"Theo’s a better person."

"Theo’s a great person. Being a great person and being an effective representative aren’t the same skill set."

Hiro considered this. His Corona flickered once, golden light dancing across his features, and then dimmed again as he committed to the physical-only training we’d established.

"Fair point." He moved forward with the opening combination I’d learned to anticipate, the jab-cross-inside leg kick that had caught me clean eight times over the past four sessions.

This time I checked the leg kick before it landed. Pivoted on my back foot. Drove a straight right into the space where his guard should have been and wasn’t because he’d already slipped sideways with the economical footwork that made him so frustrating to fight.

"Getting faster," he observed.

"Getting smarter."

We circled each other. The familiar rhythm of our training sessions settled over the field like a comfortable weight. For forty-five minutes, I didn’t have to think about elections or endorsements or Camille’s cardamom lips or Felicity’s knowing smiles or any of the other complications that made existing at Halloran feel like juggling chainsaws while walking a tightrope over a pit full of beautiful women who all wanted something from me.

I just had to fight.

Hiro caught me with an elbow that split the skin above my eyebrow. I caught him with a body shot that made him wheeze. We separated, reset, and went again.

"She asked me about you," Hiro said during one of our brief recovery periods.

I wiped blood from my eye. "Who?"

"Camille." He stretched his right arm across his chest, working out a knot in his shoulder. "This morning, after conditioning. Wanted to know what I thought of you."

My blood ran slightly colder despite the physical exertion. "And what did you tell her?"

"The truth." Hiro’s dark eyes met mine across the ten feet separating us. "That you’re arrogant, manipulative, and potentially dangerous. That you fight like someone who learned survival before technique. That your registered Aspect doesn’t match what I see when we spar."

"That’s a hell of a character reference."

"I also told her that you’re the most interesting person in our cohort and that underestimating you would be a mistake." He dropped back into his stance. "She seemed to appreciate the honesty."

We finished the session as the last light faded from the sky. Hiro walked one direction through the trees. I walked the other, my eyebrow still leaking blood through the makeshift bandage I’d applied, my body aching in ways that the Demigod trait would heal by morning.

My phone buzzed as I reached the edge of campus.

Camille Ortega.

The message was short: I’m endorsing you tomorrow. Not because of last night. Because Hiro told me you’re dangerous and I want to see what happens when you have actual power.

I stared at the screen for a long moment. Then I typed back: Thank you.

Her response came immediately: Don’t thank me yet. I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do about the other thing.

What other thing?

You know what thing.