Which is hard because every bone in the male teacher’s body is screaming at him to stop the duel after the ninth round immediately. In fact the duel should have never have started at all. He is a teacher, and aside from being responsible for his students' education, he is also responsible for their well-being when they are under his care.
Earlier, Master Cahris was about to ban the boy from entering the duel (he has a broken arm for Gods’ sake!) but the boy preemptively shut him down. Before the male teacher could finish his greeting, the boy shot off line after line like an expert archer emptying his quiver of arrows in a matter of seconds.
In the end, Master Cahris couldn’t help but be swept out to the open sea of insanity, caught in the strong current of madness that is the boy. The words would escape from the male teacher’s mouth, he could do nothing to restrain them. Master Cahris would call out an opponent, announce the start of the duel, declare its end, then call out another opponent for the boy to fight.
The male teacher feels like he’s putting firewood after firewood on the chopping block for the boy, lining them up so he could bring down his ax and split them in half.
Master Cahris discretely studies the boy who is standing nonchalantly, waiting for the paramedics to come pick up the knocked out opponent at his feet.
As the two paramedics, two third year commoner students on duty that week, are loading the unconscious Class 7B student onto a stretcher, the boy suddenly speaks to them.
“Guys, thanks for the hard work.”
The two paramedics look at each other apprehensively. After a brief moment they acknowledge the boy’s word with a nod.
Master Cahris could understand why the two paramedics are a bit anxious. These two third year commoner students fear that if they act too friendly with the boy, they will be the target of the elite students gathering en masse in the courtyard today.
But more than that, the male teacher could guess the real reason behind their nervousness. No one in their right mind would want to be associated with someone like the boy. Not after the havoc he caused in the dining hall last night, or the incident with the 15 students he was involved this morning, or the mayhem he is currently instigating in the courtyard this afternoon.
The boy is simply not… normal.
“But I’m afraid you guys are going to have to work even harder after this.” the boy continues.
“I know you guys are supposed to take any students in need of care up to the infirmary in the east building.”
“But that place is too far away. And seriously, who puts an infirmary on the second floor?”
“What happens if you’re alone and you broke both your legs? Do you need to crawl up two flights of stairs in order to get medical aid?”
“Anyway, I’m rambling. The point I’m trying to make is, I’m going to put them down faster than you can carry them out.”
“It’s not because I want to, but because I need to. You see, he’s coming for me at 4.40 pm.”
“I don’t know if I can win against him. Hell, I don’t know if I’ll even survive.”
“All I know is, if I don’t clear these remaining twenty-seven clowns by then, I’m as good as dead.”
“So what I need you guys to do is to dump his unconscious body by the side of the courtyard and get ready for the next one.”
“They’ll be fine, I assure you. They will wake up in two hours with a throbbing headache and wish they never woke up in the first place.”
“If you’re not here to carry them out, the duel can’t continue, which means you guys have just killed me.”
“I need you guys to save me.”
“Please.” the boy bow his head to his two upperclassmen.
The two third year commoner students look at each other. After what seems like an eternity…
“Thank you. I am in your debt.” The boy bows his head again. He then continues speaking.
“If any of these elite students give you lip about how you’re “mistreating” their comatose colleagues, you just point them in my direction…”
“… and I’ll give them a wave.”
“Good. Now I won’t keep you guys from continuing with your duty. As you were.”
Master Cahris watches as the two paramedics carry the unconscious Class 7B student to the edge of the courtyard before unceremoniously dumping his ass on the sideline. The nearby elite students begin to object at the less-than-savory treatment of their compatriot, but they soon shut up after the paramedics directed their gaze to a smiling and waving boy standing in the middle of the courtyard.
The male teacher is in deep contemplation when a voice interrupts his train of thought.
“I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is yes. Each and every last one of them.”
Master Haithur doesn’t look at the boy who is speaking to him. Instead the male teacher is gazing at the line of twenty-seven students, each waiting anxiously for their chance to duel the boy. The male teacher knows most of them. For Gods' sake, he even taught half of them last year.
“Are they actually members of Ouroboros?”
“More like junior members, really.”
“You like to think of them as misguided little sheep. Don’t.”
“They’re awful wicked children with delusions of grandeur, make play they’re ferocious wolves.”
“And it is the job of us adults not only to keep them safe, but to educate them when they’re being naughty.”
“Yeah, you say "educate", I kind of think you mean the other thing.”
*shrugs “Punishment could be a form of education.”
“Are you thinking of interrupting the duel?”
“I don’t know. Maybe…”
“Respectfully, Teach, you’ll be doing me more harm than good.”
“There are bigger things in motion here than you can ever hope of stopping.”
“And besides...” the boy with one arm in a sling smiles. “...the role of a meddlesome adult who sticks his/her nose in other people business has already been filled.
Somewhere in the Whiteford Academy, in the east building, on the second floor, in the infirmary, a certain female teacher sneezes, nearly messing up the stitches she is currently sewing to close a small chest wound her patient had incurred during a duel.