The next tier of matches passed without drawing much of Alex’s attention. This exercise was more about showing their capabilities to their teacher and Guardians than teaching them, and while he was certain that some of the students who’d been less adept at combat would learn something from it (he’d have to ask Maxwell later about what he noticed, just to see what he picked up), there was precious little for Alex to gain. Francesca had been matched up with Gwendolyn, and as far as he was concerned, that one was a foregone conclusion. From what he knew of Francesca, which was quite a lot, she’d been holding back this whole time, relying mostly on second-order abstraction magic, mirroring virtualized senses and strategically using the fact that she was stronger, magically, than almost everyone in their class. Gwendolyn was no exception to this, but Francesca would crush anyone who even came close to her. And she did, with a terrifying cascade of ideograms, each spell drawing the mind to the next. Most students averted their eyes, but Alex could just barely keep up, reading them and, importantly, not casting them. He was a close enough friend to Francesca that that was a risk. Impressive work, but nothing he didn’t already expect from her. Gwendolyn gave up her bandanna in short order, only slightly more electrically singed than she’d started off.
As much as his classmates were gossiping about their results, about whether this would factor into student rankings, about Instructor Leor, about their Guardians, and about how to improve their skills, Alex didn’t think much about it. His mind was entirely consumed with his Pair. He supposed that that was how things were supposed to be, though in a more… lovey-dovey sense. He was, instead, worried. Elza had, as far as he was concerned, dismantled him in combat. She’d been in his mind. She’d pulled off forbidden spells and protected a heretic - more importantly, protected that heretic from an Angel. This girl was unquestionably powerful, and yet, she’d been mostly anonymous to him. Just a name on test results, trading places with Francesca, Rosaline, and Aleste, fighting him for the top slot, just like the rest, but never quite winning. But between their combined healing spell, their dance, and their combat, there was no way that she wasn’t at least as strong as he was. She was just being held back by… well, it was obvious, wasn’t it? Elza couldn’t possibly test well, she seemed like she had just about as much discipline as a squirrel in front of a hanging bird-feeder.
There were two ways that Alex could take this, and he didn’t know which to follow, so like any good student, he took them both as best as his mind could handle. The first was that she was competition who should be studied closely. He could learn from her, find the things that she’d learned beyond him, and integrate that into his own skillset. That part of his mind disdained her. How dare she manage such strength despite a failure of personality? If he didn’t have near-infinite faith in the wisdom of the Angelic Order of Saint Michael, he’d think that she was more likely to become a maleficus than an Angel - although that was less hypothetical than he wanted to acknowledge, given that he’d caught her trying to run away from Arcadia. He nearly shook his head, caught himself from the external expression of emotion, and instead, merely winced, hoping no one noticed.
The second way was the one he couldn’t quite push out of his brain - she was fascinating. How in the hottest rings of Hell could she be so skilled, so talented, so… incredible? Everything she did made no sense to him. If there was one underlying theme to all of their magical education, it was that magical prowess was a reflection of understanding of fundamental truths of the God’s creation. Francesca being so powerful had kept him listening to her, even when their personalities clashed over minor disagreements. And while she was less orthodox than he was, her power was also couched in adherence to doctrine. Elza? She’d clearly found some other path. Some shortcut. It wasn’t unheard of for truths to be hidden or obscured to people in service of maintaining necessary hierarchies - after all, the Bible was kept in Latin for over a thousand years to make sure that the laity wouldn’t apply misinterpreted theology to it, and once it was translated, that result didn’t come far behind. And while whatever truth and whatever interpretation of it Elza had found was certainly not absolutely correct, it was correct enough to catapult her far beyond all of her classmates. That spoke to either supreme luck, or, more interestingly… some fundamental intuition for the truth that lay outside of what Alex could think of. And that was… well, he didn’t want to put it this way, but he’d been ruminating on it for the past half hour and failed to find anything else - unspeakably attractive. He wanted to follow her, and let her do whatever she wanted just for the privileged of watching her, and learning from her.
With what he’d been thinking, the much-anticipated match between Elza and Aleste had almost no tension. The class was riled up - even the Guardians and Instructor Leor seemed excited. It filled him with a bit of intoxicating pride to know the outcome of something so many people were awaiting before it happened. They all just didn’t know what Elza was capable of. By their test scores, this was a dead-even match between two of the most powerful people in the class, and should have been a knock-down, drag-out brawl of magical virtuosity that might have required Instructor Leor to step in, call a halt to the fight, and declare a winner. But Alex knew better. Aleste was impressive, and Alex had always respected her, a girl with a voracious hunger for learning, who always put in the extra time to study, to learn, to perfect her magic - someone who he occasionally considered a legitimate threat to his position as first in their class - but Elza was a cut above. Put in an actual combat scenario, Alex intuited that she’d absolutely disassemble whatever efforts Aleste brought forth. And, predictably, to him, she did.
To the rest, it was an upset. Maxwell and Gabriel clapped him on the shoulders when Elza seized Aleste’s bandanna - the next best thing after winning on your own was to see your Pair win, after all. Alex remembered their kiss, and flushed. And hoped that no one noticed.
“All attention up front.” Once Elza and Aleste had returned, patched up, to the student bleachers, Instructor Leor marched out before them, planting his feet wide and his hands on his hips until all eyes assembled met his. “So,” Instructor Leor said, “You’ll notice that we don’t have an even number of students from here on out. At least, I assume you’ve been taught that much math.” The class chuckled at the obvious joke. “Tabbitha has no one to duel with, and even if she did, the next bracket would only have three people. The numbers just don’t work out. So, I’ve determined that a superlative example of skill should get a free pass to the final bracket - that being Tabbitha - come on, clap for her!” he said, cutting off his own sentence, until the students and a few of the Guardians gave her a round of applause.
He looked at Tabbitha, and seeing her embarrassment at the attention, took it for himself. “Thank you, thank you, she did great,” he said, bowing. “But anyway, she’ll pass on to the final bracket, and we’ll have a three-way melee between Tabbitha, Elza, and Francesca, holistically showcasing the greatest knowledge, skills, and talent of Class A of year Zadkiel II. I recommend that you convene with one of the three, and pass on every piece of advice that you have to them.”
Tabbitha sheepishly raised her hand.
“I’ll be taking note of who convenes with who, and evaluating the tactics of each of the three combatants as the synthesis of your collective knowledge. This won’t go on your official record, mind you, so just do the best you can.”
Tabbitha bounced on the balls of her feet, and Rosaline, always one to keep a close eye on Tabbitha, stood next to her, and using her own gestures, highlighted Tabbitha’s.
“After all, your abilities as an Angel won’t just depend on your own skills, or how well you work with your Pairs. How you advise and communicate with your superiors, inferiors, and peers will determine not just your own success, but the success of the Order of Saint Michael, and that of the True Church itself,” Instructor Leor said, proudly. He’d clearly practiced this speech before, and whoever it’d been practiced on, be it another class or other teachers, it had been received well, at least by the look Leor had on his face.
“Uh,” Alex said, unwilling to watch this display of inattentiveness any longer.
“Yes?” Leor said. He couldn’t be faulted for paying more attention to the number one student of Zadkiel II.
“I think Tabbitha has something to say,” Alex said.
Instructor Leor’s eye’s snapped to Tabbitha, and Alex swore he could detect a hint of blush, perhaps at embarrassment for missing one of his students trying to get his attention. “You have the floor, Tabbitha,” he said.
Tabbitha, for her part, looked from Rosa, to Elza, to Alex, to Maxwell, and then finally, back to Leor, before responding. “Uh, sir?”
“I prefer “Instructor”,” Leor said, “But yes?”
“Instructor,” she said, “I’d like to withdraw from the competition.”
A gasp went up through… well, just Instructor Leor and Guardian Geoffrey. The other Guardians were more sedate, and the students were well-trained to not be surprised by Tabbitha being non-confrontational. Though, if a third party were to come in and conduct a survey of the class just prior to this moment, they’d be split on betting whether that non-confrontationality would lead to her avoiding the competition or avoiding talking to Instructor Leor about it.
Instructor Leor cocked his head, and regarded her. Alex expected a “why?” out of him, but the most he got was a twitch at the corners of Leor’s mouth. “Fair enough,” he said, and left it at that. “The final match will be Elza against Francesca, in ten minutes. Best of luck to the both of you.”
Oh, Alex thought. He’d managed to avoid realizing that that would be coming. This is going to be interesting. He did his best not to think about how two diametrically opposed people, both of whom were, at the moment, representing very different parts of his life, were about to duke it out. Instead, he tried to remind himself that the outcome of this meant nothing in terms of fate, theology, philosophy, or anything more than circumstance, and failed miserably.