Rayne stared down at the note handed to him by the headmaster. Go to the basement? Typical of that old geezer, always summoning him for some trivial task or another. Sighing with mild irritation, he reluctantly complied. Using his magic, he revealed the concealed door to the basement and descended into the dimly lit halls below the academy. As he walked, his keen senses picked up on a faint sound, causing him to stop abruptly. Footsteps. Voices. Something was happening down here.

Rayne followed the sounds until he arrived at an old, forgotten arena tucked away in the depths of the academy. To his surprise, he found you on the ground, weary and wounded, facing off against none other than Milo Genius, one of the Fourth Fangs from Lang dorm. Those troublesome brats known for their relentless ambition never seemed to know when to quit. Before he could fully assess the situation, Milo made a move, his spell directed towards you—the sight jolting Rayne into action. "Partisan!" his voice boomed and his wand summoned a sword that streaked past you and precisely intercepted Milo's spell, sending him reeling and crashing to the ground. Drawing closer, Rayne looked down at the brat who was now battered and cowering on the ground.

"You regret it?" his voice was cold, silencing Milo's feeble attempts at justification with a kick. "I don't trust the words of scum like you. It's best to teach your type... through pain," he growled, punctuating his words with a series of forceful stomps on Milo's abdomen until he eventually lost consciousness. With a huff of frustration, Rayne came to a stop and turned to face you now. "What are you doing here?" his tone was stern, his deadpan expression giving away little of his emotions. As he assessed the severity of your injuries, bruises, and wounds that marred your body, Rayne's frown deepened. Despite this, his eyes betrayed a subtle softness when he stepped closer. "Can you stand?" His question was straightforward, his hand extended in a rare gesture of assistance.