Chouquette Cookie wheezed, fighting to regain his breath and soothe his burning lungs as he leaned himself against the exterior of the Main Hall's doors. He was getting too old to be doing all-nighters sprinting through the mountains, and he certainly hoped this would be his last time coming here in such a panic. The older man wiped his forehead with one dirtied arm while his free hand combed out the twigs that had lodged themselves in his hair.

At least, with the midnight sky and his occupied trainees, nobody was around to see him in such a disordered condition. If the Elders saw him like this... His reputation would no doubt be tainted.

Snapping himself out of it and focusing on the present, he gave a cough as his breathing began stabilize, throat still a little hoarse from the multitude of curse words he had been belting out as he ran through the bush. Hopefully, the Light hadn't been watching that particular moment of his, but it helped the outwardly presenting stoic man calm his nerves and let some anger out before meeting with Crème Fouettée and dealing with Molten Magma.

Speaking of dealing with Molten Magma... The burly man gave an involuntary and certainly un-Crème-Knights-esque shiver as he thought about the man, the prospect of seeing and breaking the... News, to him at any moment now once again making his breathing labored. "Calm down, you're the Preceptor, for the Light's sake!" he mentally scolded himself.

Besides, Molten Magma was injured (not that the older man liked that- it, it just made things easier!).

How bad could he possibly react?

The Conference Room door slowly clicking open notified Crème Fouettée that her academic equal had, at last, arrived. As she tilted her head to look at the Cookie that now stood disheveled before her and the still snoozing Headmaster, she gave him a stern look with her almond butter-colored eyes; one akin to a mother scolding her child with a bar of soap clenched in her hand. A few minutes earlier, she had heard whispers carried on the wind of some very unsavory and obscene words.

To say Chouquette Cookie's arrival had come without warning would be a sore mistake.

Catching her look, he gave a rare sheepish expression and put his hands up in front of him, keen to explain himself. Before he could open his mouth, the senior Cookie seated in front of him quickly put a finger to her mouth, silently urging him to keep his words soft.

"He's asleep" she explained softly, angling her massive hat to point towards the gently snoring Headmaster sat in the seat opposite her. Chouquette Cookie's eyes fell upon the hunched figure and visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping forward as he released a tense breath Crème Fouettée didn't even know he was holding.

Molten Magma muttered something incomprehensible in his sleep, a small smile creeping across his face afterwards.

"...And he's having a good dream" she cooed, closing her eyes and giving the younger Headmaster a smile.

Chouquette crossed his arms and carefully took a seat beside Crème Fouettée, eyes not leaving the slumbering Cookie. "Well, are we going to wake him? The sooner he knows of Capsaicin's disappearance, the less angry he'll be- hopefully" he said quietly, uncertainty clouding that last word.

Crème Fouettée shook her head slowly as she contemplated the timeline. "It's best we wait for sunrise. You and I are both exhausted," she paused, eyes lingering on the Preceptor's dirtied vestments. "...You more so than I, it seems" she reasoned. "And I doubt Magma would rest for even a second more if he knew that his Champion was missing- and he's injured, as well"

"You're right" Chouquette sighed, slightly relieved at having his pummeling delayed- if only by a night. "I hope those three students will be all right for the night" he mused aloud. If worse came to worse, he knew that Kouign-Amann would protect her two competitors. Or, protect Prune Juice should Capsaicin...

The thought trailed off.

"Prune Juice Cookie is always prepared, my dear friend" Crème Fouettée reassured the noble Cookie. "But there's no use worrying about something we can't address at the moment. Sometimes, the best thing we can possibly do is to simply wait"

Chouquette Cookie gave her a tired smile. "Wise words as always, Fouettée" he whispered, a mix of fatigue and mindfulness for his sleeping friend the cause for his lowered volume. "... Suppose I better begin my trek back to the Quarters once more" he sighed, his muscles involuntarily shuddering at the prospect of even more exercise. Surely, he wasn't getting THAT old?

Crème Fouettée shook her head. "Certainly not," she began, a tone in her voice causing Chouquette to steel himself against the impending lecture. "... The Main Hall is grand enough to accommodate the both of us- as well as your two paladins that I sent to get some rest"

Now that she mentioned it, Chouquette did recall the faint sound of snoring coming from the common area of the building before he entered the Conference Room.

"And your students are okay without you there? Even in case of an emergency?" he questioned, mind already scrambling to answer the question himself. Financier was with Scovillians, and Madeleine was in charge of his paladins-in-training back at the Crème Knight's Quarters. There could be... Worse- to say the least- options chosen.

Grand Madeleine's son certainly could handle a singular night without absolute authority to govern him.

... Right?

Distracting him from his worries, Crème Fouettée added her input. "Eclair and Latte are capable of holding the fort down for the time being" she answered. Well, Latte Cookie was handling the disappearance of her ex-student rather... unwell- the professor was still bawling by the time she had left- but she was certain that Eclair Cookie could handle things himself if the worst happened.

"That settles it, then" Chouquette yawned, covering his mouth with one groggy arm. Drowsiness was already gnawing at his psyche, causing him to set his sights on nothing but the sweet release of sleep.

Crème Fouettée got up from her seat beside the already asleep Habanero and gently tip-toed towards one of the couches nestled cozily in the corner of the Conference Room. It was a beautiful shade of mauve adorned with soft yellow throw pillows atop its upholstery. Ideal for seating, but to the tired Principal that stood before it, it might as well have been made from sugar swan feathers and soft, springy flan.

"Hmm, should we move him? That seat can't be comfortable..." Chouquette mused aloud, eyes set on Molten Magma as Crème Fouettée sat down onto her 'bed' for the night.

"If you have no fear of waking him, dear" Crème Fouettée said tiredly, a hint of humour in her voice. Molten Magma was practically a foot taller than her, and her expertise was in magic- not dead-lifting a sleeping grown man. But to Chouquette, it might as well have been a sleeping bear he was attempting to rouse.

Chouquette's head drooped at that notion. He desperately wanted to sleep and face an enraged Magma in the morning after a good night's sleep, but... That posture! He internally scoffed as he scrutinized the younger Headmaster's hunched back as he slept. If he himself had attempted that, he would've woken up practically paralyzed with back pain. "... He'll thank me for this when he's my age" Chouquette muttered aloud as he himself got up and carefully approached Molten Magma. Positioning one arm behind the Headmaster's back and the other supporting the back of his knees, he gingerly hoisted the man up and into his arms; careful so as to not aggravate the bandaged wounds on his torso.

Crème Fouettée watched intently as Chouquette began his endeavour.

He turned his head and gave her an exasperated look, Headmaster in arms.

Supporting the Headmaster's head so it doesn't flop back, he tentatively carried the sleeping man with as much tenderness as he could muster; desperately hoping that he doesn't wake as he carefully walked towards a couch seated next to a stocked book shelf- away from the two couches that he and Crème Fouettée would occupy for the night. For... Safety reasons.

"Mmmm... love you, bud" Molten Magma muttered groggily just as Chouquette was about to set him down on the sofa, nearly causing the paladin to let go of him in a panic.

"Sweet merciful Light" Chouquette wheezed after his heart nearly ruptured in his chest, eyes wide as he stared down at the 'slumbering' man still clutched in his arms. Both horrified that he might be awake, and at what he had just said. To his absolute relief, the steady breathing and shut eyes proved Magma to still be asleep. "... I didn't know he was a sleep talker" Chouquette murmured as he forced himself to resume putting the sleeping Cookie down. Just what in the Light's name is he dreaming about, anyway?!

"How precious" Crème Fouettée cooed with glee in her aged voice as she watched Chouquette position a pillow under Molten Magma's head and finally set him down on the plush surface.

"Don't patronize me, Crème Fouettée" Chouquette muttered, a tick mark appearing on his forehead as he draped the ultramarine blue overcoat over top of Molten Magma Cookie. Right as he did so, the unconscious Headmaster curled onto his side towards the back of the sofa and muttered a sleepy 'mmmmhhhngrr'. "The last thing I expected to hear from him was a "love you', especially after what happened earlier" he added sourly.

Stepping back, he carefully tip-toed towards Crème Fouettée and their side of the room for the night. Fatigued, he turned off the lights to the room and plopped down on the sofa next to her, letting out a sigh as he did so. "... I think I increased my chance for heart disease by 2% after that" he admitted, his heart still racing a tad.

"I'm sure he'll thank you when he awakes well-rested" she reassured him, giving the weary Preceptor a smile.

He gave her a dubious look. "When have you ever known that man to be reasonable?" he said, folding his arms and shaking his head as he recalled past events with Magma. His explosive vigour and head-strong mindset was something he admired about the younger Cookie, but he couldn't deny the downright shenanigans that would ensue with him present. Be it bar fights, bets, or some other tomfoolery with his students. Light, he just stood there while the Banquet Hall nearly burned down!

Crème Fouettée averted her gaze and laid down on the sofa, a cue that sent the exhausted Preceptor following after. He let out a satisfied sigh as his head hit the back of a soft and inviting pillow.

"... I know you're worried about Molten Magma" Crème Fouettée breathed aloud, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them.

Chouquette was staring at the darkened sealing as he laid there, mouth contorted in a frown of worry as he thought about the events of today. "... I... I just don't know if we did the right thing, Fouettée..." he admitted to the ceiling, eyes not daring to meet hers despite them being opposite each other from where they lay. "I know Molten Magma wouldn't put anyone in danger- much less his own students. And yet... We practically shunned him as if he did"

"It's always a difficult situation when friendship opposes your duty, Chouquette. Molten Magma's the Headmaster, he'll understand why we made this decision. Either sooner, or later" she replied quietly. "And Capsaicin will benefit from this, as well. I'm positive your Republic's scientists and Parfaedia's wizards could devise a way to curb his powers"

He sighed and closed his eyes, leaving his senior with silence as a reply. Crème Fouettée had always been a voice of wisdom to him, and he couldn't have imagined navigating becoming the Preceptor without her years of experience to help guide him in times of need. But he simply could not shake the feeling that he had gravely misjudged one his dearest friends, and how absolutely betrayed Molten Magma must have felt in that moment.

Exhaustion and guilt clawed apart his consciousness, and Chouquette found himself drifting off into an uneasy sleep as he laid there on the sofa.

"Hmmmgrgh" Capsaicin yawned groggily as his eyes fluttered open, only to immediately shut them as they were assaulted by the glaring light of the sun. For the first time in what felt like several days, he didn't feel the soul-crushing chill that had settled within him after the events of the second Trial. Well, to be more precise, it was there but...

The gentle sound of soft snoring and rhythmic breathing told him that he wasn't alone.

He peeked open one tangerine eye, adjusting it to the sudden brightness. From there, he realized that a familiar purple cloth was mere inches away from his face from where he lay on the ashy grass. Shifting back slightly, he was met with resistance from behind, and realized that there was someone's arms wrapped around his neck and warmth pressed against his back.

The arms around his neck gently came loose as he tentatively sat up- as well as the one that was apparently laid across his head. Sniffing, he rubbed his eyes and wiped away the flaky basalt chips that had stuck to his face from his tears. A wave of shame flooded him as he realized that he had been crying practically the whole night- and on top of that, Kouign-Amann had to carry him like a baby. He shook his head (and along with it, his untamed mane of muted hair), and, in doing so, looked down at the still-sleeping figures of his friends.

Kouign-Amann was laying on her side with her mass of normally well-kept curls sprawled behind her. Her arms were oddly splayed out after having Capsaicin separate from her comforting grip and made it look as if something was forcefully pried from her. Turning his head slightly, he saw Prune Juice sleeping to his right, on his back with one arm on his chest and the other perpendicular to his body- most likely from Capsaicin getting up, the Spicy Champion noticed. His face was covered by his large, inky wizard's hat, but the steady rise and fall of his chest was an indication of his unconsciousness.

They both looked absolutely bedraggled, with Kouign-Amann especially bearing the brunt of the forest escapade. Her dress was torn and tattered with grey igneous rock stuck to the lacy fabric, and her white evening gloves being stained with splotches of light grey from the settling ash. Prune Juice's darker color scheme obscured much of the stains and tears from the ordeal, but his collection of burrs matched the ones clinging to Kouign-Amann's silhouette.

Capsaicin shifted his eyes away and sighed. This was all his fault. His friends were dirtied, tired, and most likely in serious trouble with their respective Academy Heads' for having taken him away from where he deserved to be. A dark, ashy, cell. Where he couldn't hurt anyone, or anyone BE hurt from just being around him.

His eyes stung from the collecting tears that wanted to cry so badly for some reason, but he fought to prevent himself from full-blown sobbing yet again. He didn't deserve his friends' sympathies, and he certainly didn't want to wake them up after all they've been through because of him. Maybe if he-

"Why don't you just turn yourself in, then? Go back to that little prison with those chains..." THAT voice whispered in his head, immediately cutting off his train of thought and causing him to freeze. He could feel a phantom pain gripping his wrists as he became acutely aware of just how... How tight his shackles felt.

What's that voice doing here...!? As if feeling absolutely horrible wasn't enough in the moment! Greaaaat, now add 'going crazy' onto the pile of reasons why he's dangerous and should be locked away. REALLY keeping it together, Capsaicin!

He brought up his trembling hands to grip his head as he violently shook his head from side-to-side. "Just leave me alone...!" he hissed aloud, hoping to tune out the vitriol spilling from an impossible-to-shut-up place.

"Mmmm... Capsaicin...?" Kouign-Amann said sleepily, having been roused from her slumber.

A pang of guilt shot from his chest as he realized he must have awoken her. Ashamed, he tilted his head to the side and swept back his hair with one hand. "... Sorry I woke you..." he said sheepishly. Hopefully she didn't hear (or see) him talking to the nasty little voice in his head.

She sat upright beside him and looked him over. "Are you alright?" she tentatively asked, worry in her pink eyes. No doubt remembering what a complete wreck he was last night.

"I, uh..." he said slowly, averting his eyes from hers. Sheesh, why was it so hard for him to just look at her?! "I'm..." he stalled, "not okay, not okay!" his mind wanted to scream, but the only thing that came out was a pathetic: "...good." he finished lamely while giving his cheek a scratch. It was so badly masked that the golden-curled Cookie before him didn't even bat an eye, merely narrowed them in concern.

Before he could explain himself further, she promptly closed the small gap between them and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a tight hug. "It's going to be 'good'" she fiercely reassured him with a grip that could rival that of a wrestler's.

Stunned, he just sat there for a few moments before his brain registered that this felt good and he felt so sure that everything would be okay that even the little voice in his head seemed quiet.

The feeling didn't last, but he brought up his arms and hugged her back and rested his chin on her shoulder in an attempt to prolong the absolute reassurance that he had felt in those quick, fleeting moments. "Thanks, Kouign..." he said softly while closing his eyes.

After what felt like several long, comforting moments, she loosened her grip and pulled away, switching her hands from his back to his shoulders. "You feel absolutely freezing, Capsaicin" she remarked, her head darting around him as she attempted to inspect whether or not there was a hunk of ice that had somehow formed somewhere on his body.

This was the first time she was able to see him clearly since before breaking him out of the Scovillia Quarters, and to say it was jarring compared to her first time seeing him would be an understatement. His normally bright, neon orange hair had died to a muddied, mute orange that somehow felt frosty to touch, and his now ashen, curved and pointed horns which normally glowed from the magma peeking through their cracks had cooled to an obsidian, with a few spikes dotting their bases. The normally up-beat Cookie looked so wrong without that seemingly eternal grin on his face, and his eyes which once glowed with determination appeared hollow and dejected with darkened circles underneath their tangerine.

And, most worrisome: there were cracks in his dough. Akin to a spiderweb blooming across a mirror that had received a nasty impact, with cracks dotting around his wrists, chest, and shoulders. Any normal Cookie would've been sent to the infirmary in a heartbeat, but with Capsaicin, she couldn't make heads or tails. One thing was certain, though: it couldn't be good.

"Oh, I... I sometimes get like that" he said, bringing Kouign-Amann back from her internal analyzing of her friend. Sure, he sometimes felt a little cold after burning himself out, but that's just his fire dimming and comes back easily if he throws himself in a bonfire or something. But this... It just felt like someone had taken a bucket of water and simply extinguished him- and, well, wet kindling just doesn't re-ignite.

"Maybe Prune Juice has something to help you" she wondered, looking to the right of Capsaicin, where the inky potionmaker lay with his hat obscuring his eyes.

"About that... Kouign... I..." Capsaicin said slowly, bringing one arm up to rub the back of his head as he struggled to get the words out. "I... I think I should go back. Maybe if I tell them I made you do this, you g-guys won't get in trouble..." he choked out, barely managing to finish his sentence. He didn't want to admit that the loathsome voice in his head had a point, but, well... It did. No good could come from running away from one's destiny.

Kouign-Amann looked at him incredulously and was about to reply when the 'sleeping' Prune Juice Cookie shot up from the ground beside them. His large, inky wizard cap fell to the ground with a plop as he whipped his head to glare at Capsaicin, causing the depressive Cookie to stare in stunned silence.

"ARE YOU INSANE!?" he bellowed with such ferocity that the words Kouign-Amann Cookie were going to use to reassure Capsaicin died on her tongue, leaving her to simply gawk at the infuriated potionmaker. "Do you know HOW MUCH EFFORT IT WAS GETTING YOU HERE!?"

Capsaicin stared at Prune Juice with widened eyes, somehow shrinking at every word directed towards him and unable to say anything as the inky champion continued his tirade. "And now. You. Want. To. Go. BACK!?" he hissed, both eyes fully open to scrutinize the ashen Cookie before him with piercing, baby blue. "I get that you're all depressed and angsty, but don't add STUPID into the mix!"

Kouign-Amann looked from the shrunken spicy champion to the absolutely furious inky one and reluctantly nodded her head. "Prune's right, Capsaicin. In principle, at least" she said, giving Prune Juice a side glare at his choice of wording. "... And you're not stupid" she added while giving the dejected-looking Capsaicin a pat on his fluffy head. "But, you can't go back. What if they do something terrible to you...?" she said, hurt in her voice for her friend. The words Madeleine had said to her the previous day still hung hollow in her head.

"Then I'd have at least deserved it..." Capsaicin muttered, hanging his head. Prune Juice gave an exasperated facepalm as he picked up his fallen hat, dusted it off, and promptly sat it atop his head as he took a seat next to the spicy Champion.

"I recall Kouign-Amann saying all of your opinions about the matter are to be rejected until your angst levels stabilize" Prune Juice Cookie replied matter-of-factly while pointing a finger at Capsaicin, his prior fury having died down to a low simmer.

"Exactly," Kouign-Amann said while planting both of her gloved hands on the sides of Capsaicin's face. She manually lifted his downwards tilted head up to face her as she cleared her throat in an exaggerated and dramatic manner. "... Now you're going to listen and let Pruney and I take care of this, okay?" she said slowly while moving his head up and down, forging a confirmation from him.

Capsaicin merely closed his eyes and sighed, giving up on dissuading his friends.

"Good!" Kouign-Amann said cheerily while giving him a smile, releasing the ashen Cookie from her grip. She put one hand on her knee as she brushed her dirtied dress ruffles and gingerly got to her feet. "Now, Prune Juice Cookie, what's the plan?" she asked while scanning the burnt wreckage of a forest that surrounded them.

One of Prune Juice's eyes flicked open as a puzzled expression crossed his face. "You're asking me? What makes you think I have a plan in mind for something like this?" he asked while following her upright and grabbing hold of his potion sack that had sat idly through the night.

"... Well, you always have a plan..." Kouign-Amann pouted, pursing her lips together.

"Oho, you're right. I DO have a plan, Kouign-Amann!" he suddenly said as he turned to face her, voice growing exaggerated as he hoisted his canvas sack over one shoulder. "It's called finding something to eat before I get desperate and see how many calories are in a fistful of ash" he finished bluntly, legs already moving towards the un-charred tree line in the near distance.

Prune Juice bringing up the prospect of food made Kouign-Amann realize just how hungry she truly felt- seems exhaustion and worry had previously been masking it. Besides a few snacks offered to her yesterday by Madeleine Cookie, she hadn't eaten anything. The daily breakfast had been interrupted by the second Trial going awry.

"Are you hungry, Cap?" Kouign-Amann inquired as she motioned for the stationary Cookie to get up.

"Not r-" he was about to reply as he slowly got to his feet, but the audible and poorly-timed growl of his stomach betrayed what he was going to say.

Kouign gave a humorous look accompanied by a smile as Capsaicin's cheeks flushed a shade of obsidian. "Then the plan is to find some breakfast!" she said cheerily as she grabbed hold of one of his hands and promptly resisted the urge to shiver as the cold leeched into her own. Hmm, she'd have to ask Prune Juice about that brew after they find something to eat. After getting used to the sudden chill, she began leading him towards where Prune Juice was walking.

The un-athletic Cookie already had quite the lead on them.

Capsaicin tried to keep his eyes on Kouign's soft pink ballgown dress and Prune's murky purple hat as the former lead him like a stray puppy. All around him was the remains of his catastrophic meltdown yesterday, and the spicy Champion was at least TRYING to take his friends advice and not feel so incredibly down. But, as he fixed on Kouign, he couldn't help feel that something was off about his golden-curled friend...

Then, it hit him.

"Uh, Kouign...? Where's your sword?" he asked quietly, eyes glancing at the empty hand on her right. The large greatsword that he had grabbed hold of during the first Trial was nowhere to be seen.

"Hmm? Oh, I left it back at your Quarters" she replied nonchalantly as she turned her head to look at him, not daring to stop their trot for fear of Prune Juice abandoning them. That Cookie was unusually swift when he's hungry...

At her answer, Capsaicin looked at her in shock. "But... You're a paladin! Isn't losing your blade really... Bad?" he asked, confused. Even when he had spun her around like a carousel, the iron-gripped Champion didn't let go of her mighty sword. In fact, he remembered the Headmaster telling him that a paladin would do anything if it meant that their blade stayed in their possession- even extremely... Embarrassing things, as the older Cookie had put it. It made him wonder just how the Scovillia Head knew that.

"Well, I couldn't carry you AND my sword. But you're a lot more important than some weapon, Capsaicin- so it was an easy decision!" she said happily. "Plus, I'll go back and get it when we're done"

He didn't really know how to reply to that, but he felt slightly overwhelmed that his friend would do that for him. Even after everything- even though he wholeheartedly did NOT deserve such a gesture, she still chose to carry him over her pride as a paladin.

Realizing that he had simply been staring at her for an awkward amount of time after she had said that, Capsaicin quickly gave his head a swift shake and contemplated what to say. But, the moment was interrupted by the figure that they were following promptly tripping over... Something? And landing square on his face.

"PRUNE!" Kouign-Amann yelped in surprise as she clenched Capsaicin's hand tightly and barrelled towards the downed figure. Caught off guard by the sudden increase in speed, Capsaicin desperately attempted to prevent his legs from fumbling under him and sending them both crashing down to Prune Juice's fate as they ran. His limbs felt a lot stiffer when he was cold...!

"...Oww..." Prune Juice groaned as he rolled onto his back just as Kouign-Amann and Capsaicin drew to a halt before him. "... What the heck was that...!?" he cursed as he re-adjusted his hat and sat up, slightly dazed.

"Are you okay?" Kouign-Amann asked, worry in her voice as she released Capsaicin's hand and inspected her friend. He was now caked in a whole new layer of ash, and his pasty dough color now dawned the appearance of pale grey from the soot marking it.

As Kouign-Amann fussed over Prune Juice (telling him that it was 'his stupid big hat' that made him trip in the first place, to which the potionmaker vehemently denied), Capsaicin stared at the object that was the apparent cause for his friend's fall.

It was a large, deep maroon skull charred partially black from innumerable flames that had been lapping at its bony material. Two asymmetrical, almost ruby-red horns jutted from each side with the larger of the two adorned with a few gold bangles. It had been thrown with enough force to partially secure it in the patchy earth, causing it to be one hell of a tripping hazard for those with obscured vision.

But to Capsaicin, that mask was the most familiar thing he had ever seen in his life. The first thing his bleary eyes had focused on when he first awoke outside the volcano...

...It was the Headmaster's signature skull.

Kouign-Amann and Prune Juice must have sensed something off about his silence, as they both stopped their bickering to look at him. He carefully bent down and clasped the object between his hands, tugging it free from the ground and bringing it up to his chest. "... Do you guys know where the Headmaster is...?" he asked quietly, eyes wide and not daring to leave the mask that he now clutched in his arms as if someone was going to rip it from him at any moment.

Kouign and Prune Juice shared a glance as the former extended an arm and pulled the latter to his feet.

"We really don't"

"...mmmmmmoh Red Dragon- not tHE CHAIR...!" Molten Magma yelped as his upper body promptly shot up from what was PREVIOUSLY a very nice, pleasant dream. His head whipped around the unfamiliar room, quickly scanning to see if the dreaded four-legged monstrosity had followed him from the torturous world of dream into reality.

By the grace of the Dragon or the curse of the Witch, it was nowhere to be found.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he swept his curly bedhead back with one hand while the other reached up to tentatively touch his bandaged chest.

Daggers had dulled to the more bearable humdrum of pain, most likely caused by his nerves not being able to pump out such a magnitude for such a prolonged period of time. Even so, he winced slightly as his fingers brushed against the cotton candy bandages concealing a burnt patch that spanned just below his pectoral muscles.

Taking his mind off it, he once again looked around the room- this time realizing that he was in the VERY familiar darkened and window-less room of the Conference Room. He carefully swung his legs off the couch that he now registered he was sleeping on and carefully pushed himself to his feet.

The feeling of a silky garment slipping off of him caught his attention, and he curiously bent down (careful so as to not aggravate his wounds) to grab the collar of an ultramarine blue overcoat.

"Crème Fouettée..." he thought to himself with a twinge of contempt as he carelessly tossed the garment behind him and onto the couch. He distinctly remembered falling asleep in the chair that he was confined to, and Crème Fouettée certainly wasn't strong enough to lift him- which left one person to account for.

Well, never mind his 'friends' pathetic attempt at an extension of an olive branch after having not only betrayed him (oho, the second he was back home in Scovillia with ALL of his students, he was severing those ties IMMEDIATELY!), but practically imprisoning Capsaicin Cookie when he needed help as well.

His train of thought snagged on that last part. "CAPSAICIN!" he thought to himself urgently, practically having to restrain his instincts from causing him to break out in a mad dash towards his boy. Quickly, he tip-toed through the dark towards the only door to the Conference Room- the one that would lead him out and on his way to his students and (most importantly at the moment) Capsaicin.

Hand swiftly reaching the knob, he quietly sighed a breath of sound relief as he prepared to turn it. Finally, he could leave these Dragon-damned mountains, his stupid, betraying friends (whose years of friendship apparently meant NOTHING to them), and bring his students back home to the relative safety of Scovillia. All he had to do was turn the knob...

... Aaaand the lights abruptly flicked on.

"... Huh" he said plainly as his body froze, hand still clasping the doorknob. His head was still set ahead with eyes squarely on the rectangular door before him.

"Nice chair dream?" a rich and regal voice commented, the volume being so clear that Molten Magma could tell that its owner was RIGHT beside him.

Slowly, as if even the slightest swiftness would kill him, he turned his head to face the source of the voice.

"Chouquette." he hissed, eyes closing and mouth twisting into a curt, forced smile to prevent the absolute disgust he felt from bleeding out into them.

"Molten Magma." Chouquette replied evenly from where he stood, a mere inches away from Molten Magma with his back pressed against the wall adjacent the door. His arms were folded and he was giving the Headmaster a polite smile. "What are you doing there?"

"Leaving." he said shortly as he slowly turned his head back to the door and prepared to finally twist that damn knob.

"Dear, we have some news for you" another voice spoke, nearly causing Molten Magma to jump out of his dough (which would've been somewhat preferable given the current burnt status of his own) as his head whipped to his other side.

Crème Fouettée stood on the opposite side of the door, practically mirroring Chouquette's own stance with folded arms and her head tilted downward.

"I hate you two" Molten Magma sighed frankly as he hung his head and gave up on turning the doorknob, hand falling in defeat to lay gloomily at his side. Oh Red Dragon, he was so close- but even he couldn't take on these two in his condition, well, maybe Chouquette. Man's weak spot is his back.

Chouquette sighed as he pushed himself upright from his previous leaning position against the wall. "Magma, ple-" he attempted to say, before Molten Magma cut him off.

"Don't 'Magma' me, Chouquette" he snarked. "And you too, Crème Fouettée" he added, receiving an exasperated 'I didn't even say anything' look from the eldest Academy Head. "I don't care what you have to say-"

"Capsaicin along with Crème Fouettée's and I's Champions are missing" Chouquette said bluntly, cutting off the Headmaster this time.

Crème Fouettée quickly looked at Chouquette, who simply shrugged in return. "Ripped the bandaid off" he explained to the Principal as Molten Magma simply stood there with an indifferent expression on his face. "Looks like he's taking it well, too" he added, relief in his rich voice.

The Preceptor took a step closer to the Headmaster and extended an arm, resting his hand on one of Molten Magma's shoulders as he closed his eyes and cleared his throat in preparation of one of his signature speeches. "Molten Magma, I swear that Capsaicin, Kouign-Amann, and Prune Juice will be retur-" his speech was abruptly cut off as the stocky man received an impossibly swift punch to the face, courtesy of Molten Magma's free arm. The younger man didn't even bat an eye as his fist collided with Chouquette's stupid cheekbone, merely just stood in place as the Preceptor clutched his face and hunched slightly over.

"MOLTEN MAGMA!" Crème Fouettée yelped, caught off guard by the speed of his attack. Before she could jump in and prevent the situation from de-escalating, Chouquette put an arm outstretched and palm open towards her, causing her to halt in her tracks.

"... Fouettée, if he wants to act like a child, then I'm... Happy. To..." he coughed, a globule of jam splattering on his chin as he reared up to face his opponent. "... Oblige" he snapped, eyes narrowing as he lunged towards Molten Magma.

"Oh? You're finally picking on someone your own size, Chouquette!? Got tired of IMPRISONING MY DAMN KID!?" he yelled, ducking and launching forward to tackle Chouquette's midsection, narrowly avoiding getting his own slug to the face as the opposite paladin rolled with the blow backwards to soften the impact.

"Hnngr...! O-Oh act yourrr... Age for once, Molten Magma...!" Chouquette snarled as he crashed backwards into a chair. The sturdy chocowood legs gave way like twigs as they broke with a splintering CRACK. "Never thinking about the damn bigger picture!"

As the two continued to exchange blows (with Chouquette looking considerably worse for wear despite Molten Magma's starting injuries), Crème Fouettée stood on the sidelines and watched the chaos unfold. Being perfectly capable of ending the fight with a simple incantation, she decided against it in favor of letting the two learn their lessons the old fashioned way. Even if it meant watching two grown men fight like children.

... It was almost unbearable to watch in that regard.

The aged Cookie side-stepped a chair whose trajectory had completely missed its target, leaving a chip in the sugarstone wall next to her as it violently exploded into splinters of chocowood and torn upholstery.

"Act MY age!? You've been Preceptor for so damn long you care more about your JOB than about anyone else...!" Molten Magma spat as he grabbed another chair- which was quickly becoming his weapon of choice against the beast of a Preceptor. Holding its two front legs, he smacked a disoriented Chouquette right over the the back of his shoulders, leaving nothing but two stumpy legs clenched in each hand afterwards.

To the Headmaster's temporary dismay, Chouquette shrugged off the blow and grabbed hold of the hilt of his blade, and, still sheathed, swung it towards him. Bringing up his arms, he used the chair legs to block the majority of the diagonal slash, leaving only minor would-become bruising on his forearms that stung like the Dragon's breath!

"That is the point, Molten Magma...!" Chouquette huffed. They were at a stand-still, with each other opposed. Covered in already bruising patches of dough, minor scrapes with angry red peering outward, splinters, and thoroughly exhausted from burnt dough and prior fatigue. "My job is to keep my paladin trainees safe, and my Republic safe! I can't put them in jeopardy, even if it's your word of reassurance"

Molten Magma rubbed an eye. It stung for some reason- must've gotten a splinter in it or something.

"That's MY job too, Chouquette!" he choked, feeling as if a ball had somehow lodged itself in his throat. "... You're doing all you can... And, a-and you're succeeding...! So what do I do!? There's no winning- and Capsaicin doesn't deserve it...! I'm... I'm doing all I can... And it's still not enough...!"

His eyes prickled as if they were getting a massage from a cactus, and his breathing had become punctuated with sharp gasps and hiccups. Was his lung collapsing? Odd, he didn't recall receiving a blow to the chest. "... You b-both... Have always known what to do. You're even looking after my students right now while I c-can't even protect ONE...!" he choked while putting a hand up to clutch his hair, obscuring his eyes by extension. His words seemingly became harder to discern as an odd sound muddled what he spoke.

"And..."

Oh.

He was crying.