Extra's POV: I am the Sixteenth Son

Jareth, the new instructor, looked as imposing as his name sounded. He wasn't just any teacher wandering the halls of the Cradle - he was master-ranked, and more importantly, he'd been planted here by the patriarch himself.

After getting a taste of what Ares was truly capable of, Alaric hadn't thought twice about putting a security measure in place that he could actually trust. The best solution was Jareth, one of the elite members of the Lion Order - the kind of man who could handle whatever came his way.

Jareth was an Eisenklinge through and through, tried and tested in ways that mattered. He wasn't from the pure-blood line like the main family, just a branch family member. But his abilities? They could match any pure-blood's power, which made him perfect for this delicate job.

Originally, Sinclair was supposed to be the year two instructor, but Veltrissa had been smart enough to slot Jareth in first. That way he wouldn't draw unwanted attention as just another new teacher, even though he was already too powerful for most people to fully comprehend.

Jareth had only one task: keep an eye on Ares. And he'd almost blown it completely.

He'd gotten distracted by another case, almost letting his main mission fall apart like a house of cards. The irony wasn't lost on him - sent to protect one boy, nearly failed because he was chasing shadows elsewhere.

When Jareth went looking for Ares and headed straight to his dorm, he found a worried Roul standing by the door like a lost puppy. The boy recognized him immediately as Ares's instructor and class guardian, practically bouncing on his feet with anxiety.

Roul explained that Ares was supposed to return earlier but hadn't shown up. "He's never this late without saying something," Roul said, wringing his hands. After laying out the whole situation, he added his growing suspicion that Vael had threatened to bully Ares and might be picking on him somewhere in the finalist wing.

"That little brat," Jareth muttered under his breath, though he kept his expression neutral for Roul's sake.

Jareth carefully made his way through the halls toward the finalist wing, moving like a hunter tracking prey. After confirming that Vael hadn't returned to his quarters either, his first move was heading to the Echovault. Maybe Ethan would know where Ares had gone - or at least give him a clue about what the boy had been up to.

But on his way there, just west of the vault building, he felt it.

BOOM.

An explosion that sent sound waves rippling across the entire Cradle like a stone thrown into still water. Being master-ranked meant his senses were sharp enough to pick up things others would miss completely. His blood ran cold as he realized what he was feeling.

Immediately, his senses went into overdrive. He crouched low, tensing his thigh muscles like a coiled spring, planning to reach that part of the Cradle in one massive leap.

He'd been holding back his abilities this whole time because of the trainees scattered around the Cradle. Exposing kids their age and rank to a master's full aura was basically signing their death warrants. But now Jareth didn't give a damn about being careful.

He could feel it - something dark and threatening, like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Not something he couldn't handle, but definitely something no trainee could survive against. And if Ares was caught in the middle of it...

"Not on my watch," he growled.

After building up enough kinetic energy in his leg, he launched himself into the air like a human rocket. Lightning seemed to crackle around his form as he shot toward his destination, raw power flowing from his core to every part of his body in controlled bursts.

He landed right in the middle of the chaos with a thunderous impact that shook the ground. His hands moved like striking snakes, snatching the deadly needles flying toward Ares and grinding them to powder with crackling lightning between his fingers.

The rain was still coming down in sheets, turning the training field into a muddy mess. But Jareth barely noticed the water streaming down his face as he took in the scene before him.

---

"I will repeat myself just this once, hoping you didn't hear me the first time," Jareth said, his voice carrying the kind of controlled impatience that made smart people very nervous. "Who are you?"

He locked eyes with Elyra while his gaze darted around the scene, taking in every detail like a battlefield commander. Vael was out cold in the mud, Ares was barely conscious and clutching his stomach, and this maid was standing there like she owned the place.

"Young Master Ares, are you okay?" he asked, though the answer was pretty obvious from the boy's condition.

That was all he needed to see. When Elyra refused to reply, just standing there with that blank expression, Jareth nodded in understanding. She wouldn't talk. Fine by him.

He took one step forward. Not a burst of movement or any fancy acceleration - just a slow, calculated step that seemed to carry the weight of a mountain. The ground beneath his foot seemed to pulse with the pressure.

Jareth's aura spread out across the training field like spilled ink, and for one person in particular, it felt like staring into the abyss. Elyra's mind became a chaotic marketplace of panicked thoughts bouncing off each other. She'd messed with the wrong person - badly. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the cold rain as she frantically tried to think of some way to escape this nightmare.

Jareth took another step, and the crushing pressure doubled. The very air seemed to thicken around them.

Elyra knew better than to move even a muscle. If she so much as twitched wrong, he'd probably turn her into paste faster than she could blink. She would have loved to get out of this situation, but it was looking more impossible by the second. There was no doubt she'd be caught no matter what clever plan she tried to cook up.

So she decided to go out in grand style.

Elyra didn't answer his question.

Instead, she slowly lifted her hand, two fingers brushing the edge of her cheek like she was wiping away the rain. Then her lips curved into a small smile that wasn't cold or cruel - just... resolved. Like she'd made peace with whatever came next.

"Ah," Jareth said, his tone sharpening as understanding hit him like a slap. "So that's how it is."

His body tensed, muscles coiling like springs, but it was already too late.

Her thumb pressed against her jaw, slipping into her mouth, past her molars. With one quiet pulse of mana, she bit down hard on something hidden there.

Snap.

A dull, silvery light surged up her throat toward her skull like liquid mercury. Glowing veins lit up across her chest and neck in branching patterns that looked like ancient writing etched in light. Her pupils went wide as her eyes turned completely glassy and unfocused.

A faint hissing sound filled the air, like steam escaping from a kettle. Then:

POP.

It was soft - not violent at all. More like a soap bubble bursting underwater, almost gentle in its finality.

Elyra swayed once, like a tree in a breeze, then collapsed sideways into the mud with a wet splash. Her eyes stayed open but saw nothing. One side of her face was already starting to char slightly, thin trails of smoke rising from her temples and disappearing into the rain.

Jareth stared in complete shock. He'd thought she was planning one last desperate attack since she was cornered like a rat. But it was the complete opposite - she'd chosen her own ending rather than face whatever questions he might have asked.

"Poison tooth," he muttered, recognizing the technique.

He moved quickly to where Ares lay in the mud, and something twisted in his chest when he saw the tears mixing with rainwater on the boy's face.

Ares looked up at him with those emerald eyes that had seen too much for someone so young. When he'd first reincarnated into the world of a book he'd read, he'd thought maybe life was finally paying him back for his terrible past. A second chance, a fresh start, all that hopeful nonsense.

But right now, staring at the ugly truth about this world, he realized the same brutal rule from his old life applied here too: survival of the fittest. That was the only law that really mattered when push came to shove.

He'd been taking his time, wanting to progress at his own pace like he had all the time in the world. But now something fundamental had shifted inside him, like a switch being flipped. He was going to be reborn again - not as the broken, accepting boy who waited for death to take him, but as someone with teeth.

Someone vengeful. Vengeful toward the world that kept trying to crush him, vengeful toward himself for being weak when it mattered, and vengeful toward anyone who dared to threaten him again.

He would swallow this world whole if he had to, and make damn sure no one ever messed with him again.

Jareth carefully picked up both Ares and the unconscious Vael, slinging them over his shoulders like sacks of grain. He'd heard from Roul about Vael's plans to bully Ares, and seeing the little brat here in the middle of this mess pretty much confirmed it was true. But he'd get the full story when the boys woke up.

For now, he should just be grateful he hadn't completely failed his mission. Ares was alive, battered but breathing, and that was what mattered.

As Jareth carried his burdens toward the infirmary, his boots splashing through puddles, Elyra's body remained on the rain-soaked training field. The water washed the smoke from her face, leaving her looking almost peaceful in death.

The future had started to plot its course, and something told Jareth it was going to be a lot bloodier than anyone expected.

"This is just the beginning," he said quietly to the storm, and somehow, the words felt like a promise.

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A/N – Was it fire or mid? Don't just vanish—powerstone, comment, review. Let me feel your presence.