The victory over the Golem had turned Sam into a local celebrity, but in the shadows of the academy's spires, resentment was festering. Prince Julian von Astrum was not a man who accepted defeat, especially not from a "commoner scholar" who looked like he'd rather be napping than dueling.
Three days after the trial, Sam was walking through the Hanging Gardens, a series of floating stone platforms connected by ivy bridges. He was heading toward the library—his usual sanctuary—when the air suddenly grew heavy, thick with the smell of ozone and burning metal.
"You think you're clever, don't you, Light?"
Sam stopped. Julian stood on the bridge ahead, flanked by two stone-faced guards from the Royal Sun-Guard. But it wasn't the guards that caught Sam's attention; it was the object in Julian's hand.
It was a scepter made of blackened gold, topped with a jagged crimson gem that pulsed like a dying heart. The moment Sam saw it, his [Spirit] stat—his highest attribute—screamed a warning.
'That's not a student tool,' Sam thought, his eyes narrowing. 'That's a strategic-grade artifact.'
"Julian," Sam said calmly, "bringing guards into the inner gardens is against school policy. Bringing a Sovereign-Class Relic into a sparring zone is against Kingdom Law."
"Laws are for those without the power to break them!" Julian hissed. His eyes were bloodshot. He had clearly spent the last three days obsessing over his loss. "This is the Scepter of the Scorched Earth. It's a Royal Heirloom. One tap, and I can burn your 'infinite' mana pool to ash before it can even tick for a single percent!"
"Julian, stop!"
Sylvie emerged from behind a pillar, her eyes glowing with a faint silver light—her Spirit Sight was active. "That scepter... it's feeding on your life force! It's an unstable artifact! If you release its seal here, the entire garden will collapse!"
"Shut up, commoner!" Julian roared. He pointed the scepter at Sam. "Let's see how fast you recover when your soul is on fire!"
The crimson gem erupted. A wave of localized, high-intensity heat—a [Solar Flare]—shot toward Sam.
Sam didn't hesitate. He knew his basic [Mana Ward] wouldn't hold against a Royal Relic. He dumped every drop of his current MP into a [Condensed Mana Shell], a technique he'd read about in the library but never tested.
CRACK-BOOM!
The explosion was blinding. The ivy bridges scorched instantly, and the stone platform they stood on began to crack. Sam felt the heat searing his skin, his MP pool plummeting from 100 to 0 in a single second.
MP: 0/100 [DANGER]
But Julian didn't stop. He laughed maniacally, the scepter draining his own face of color as it prepared a second, more powerful blast. "Die! Just die!"
Suddenly, the air didn't just grow heavy—it froze.
A shadow fell over the gardens, so vast and cold it felt like the sun had been extinguished. A single, rhythmic thump-thump echoed through the air. It was the sound of a very old, very angry heart beating.
"ENOUGH."
The word wasn't spoken; it was vibrated into their very bones.
Headmaster Barnaby Valerius descended from the sky, not on a broom or a mount, but standing on a platform of pure, solidified gravity. His beard was whipping in a wind that shouldn't exist, and his eyes—usually twinkling with grandfatherly mischief—were glowing with a terrifying, ancient light.
With a flick of his wrist, the Headmaster sent a pulse of grey energy forward. The Scepter of the Scorched Earth didn't just stop firing; it groaned and went dark, the crimson gem turning into dull glass.
"My... my scepter..." Julian stammered, falling to his knees as the artifact's feedback hit him.
"That 'trinket' does not belong in my school, Prince Julian," Barnaby said, his voice like grinding tectonic plates. He landed softly on the scorched stone, ignoring the Prince and looking straight at the guards. "And you... Sun-Guards. You allowed a student to ignite a strategic weapon on school grounds? Leave. Now. Before I decide to see if your armor can withstand a Black Hole."
The guards, terrified, didn't even look at the Prince. They turned and vanished into the treeline.
Barnaby turned his gaze to Julian, who was trembling. "To use a Royal Artifact to settle a schoolyard grudge... you have insulted the Crown, you have insulted this Academy, and most importantly, you have insulted me."
"I... I am the Prince! You cannot—"
"I am the Archmage of the East," Barnaby interrupted, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "In these walls, I am the only King. You are expelled from all combat trials for the semester, and your access to the Royal Treasury is revoked by my decree until your father hears of this madness."
Barnaby waved a hand, and Julian was whisked away by a gust of wind, likely deposited at the school gates in a heap of shame.
The Headmaster then turned to Sam, who was leaning against a pillar, breathing hard.
"You," Barnaby said, his expression softening slightly. "Your MP pool is empty. You should be unconscious."
Sam looked at his internal clock.
9... 10.
MP: 1/100
A tiny spark of blue light returned to Sam's eyes. He stood up straight, wiping soot from his forehead. "I told you, Headmaster. I'm very... efficient."
Barnaby let out a short, surprised laugh. "Efficient? Boy, you just stared down a Royal Relic and survived. Most mages would have had their mana circuits fried for life. But you... your recovery is already kicking in."
The Headmaster walked over and placed a heavy hand on Sam's shoulder. "I was going to wait until the end of the term, but after today... it's clear you need more than just library books. You've earned a special 'favor,' Samuel Light. Follow me. It's time you saw what lies beneath the Academy."
Sylvie watched them leave, her Spirit Sight still active. She saw Sam's mana pool refilling like a steady, unstoppable tide. But she saw something else—a faint, golden-green thread connecting Sam to the sky.
'He isn't just a scholar,' she thought, her heart racing. 'He's a miracle.'