Lance pushed himself back up. He touched his back—a massive scar was bleeding out. The rage in his eyes was evident. He gripped his sword, turned, and looked at Robert.
"Why? Why are you rooting for that firsthand fucking wannabe? He is here trying to take what belongs to me.
You know it too. I'm the one that should be in charge, the leader, and yet you are siding with him?" Lance asked.
"You were never the leader. You'll never be the leader. You failed—not just in front of us, but in front of me, and the others as well," Robert said and pointed his sword. "This is your last chance, Lance. Stand back. Drop the sword. This is an order from your prince," Robert said.
"Prince? You aren't a prince in the academy. You are just someone standing in my way," Lance said as he charged forward. Robert frowned when he saw Lance coming.
"You are only a rank ahead of me because I allowed you, because I believed the hero was at least supposed to be the face of the class.
