At the Academy — Bolt
Arron stood stiffly outside the director's office, fingers curling and uncurling at his sides.
The weight of the summons pressed heavy on his chest.
When he finally pushed the door open, he froze.
There — by the tall window, bathed in afternoon light — stood the same teacher who had helped him find his classroom on the very first day.
The man didn't even glance back. He sipped his tea, calm and composed, but his presence was intimidating.
Arron swallowed hard.
"G-good morning, sir."
The teacher finally turned his head, a faint smile curving his lips.
"Oh! Hello, Bolt. Please — have a seat. Tea?"
"N-no, thank you, sir. We… can have tea some other time."
The teacher chuckled softly, taking another sip before setting his cup down.
"Fair enough."
He moved to sit behind his desk, folding his hands.
"So. Next week you'll be summoning your familiar. I read your school records — particle magic isn't your strong suit, is it? And you're also the adopted child of the Zleares family."
He leaned forward slightly, his golden eyes sharp and knowing.
"Let me see your aura network. Summoning falls under my jurisdiction — I am the head mage here, after all. And…" — his gaze narrowed — "…I have a feeling I've met you before. You remind me so much of Alex."
Arron stiffened at that name, but before he could reply, the teacher reached out, muttering a spell to read his aura.
"…What in—?"
The man flinched slightly. His brows furrowed.
"Whoa. Someone's blocked your aura — and hard. These circles… they're god-tier work. Even I can't break them. But your aura is leaking out anyway — maybe that's why it's sealed. To keep you from…"
He trailed off, then muttered almost to himself:
"Only one god-tier mage I know could've done this… and he's been in hiding for years. Sir Edward Greystone, Spirit King of Dark Magic. He invented this kind of spell — to protect people from mana explosions."
He leaned back, exhaling deeply.
"Sigh. Well. You're lucky. There are some pills that can help repair the damage and stabilize your network. Come to me after school — I'll give you a pouch of them. Twice a day — morning and night."
He paused, then added in a much colder tone:
"And… beware of Gean. He likes to pick on students — especially ones like you. He said once that you reminded him of Alex."
Arron felt a chill crawl up his spine at the mention of Professor Gean's name, remembering the cold, piercing way the man looked at him during class.
Why is he so cold to me? Does he know Alex too? Nobody ever talks about Alex — but they both seem to…
Gathering his courage, Arron finally asked:
"Sir… How did Alex look?"
The teacher blinked, then his expression softened — almost nostalgic.
"Ah. He was… a tall blonde man. Light brown highlights. Green eyes like forest light. Complex personality — cold and calculating on the battlefield, but… whenever he noticed His Highness Garion, he'd become goofy, clingy, even a little ridiculous. He saved me once. I owe him my life."
His gaze darkened, then fixed intently on Arron.
"I can never forget the shade of those green eyes. They gave me courage when I thought I had none left. Let me… see yours."
Arron hesitated. But slowly, he lifted his bangs, bracing himself to be called a monster.
The teacher's breath hitched, and for a long moment he simply stared.
Impossible. Those eyes. Exactly like Alex…
But he quickly composed himself and said evenly:
"Sparkles. That's the mark of a strong connection to mana — it also means you're a descendant of Austrasia. Her Majesty herself is the last known member of the imperial Austrasian family. We'll talk more another day."
He stood and dismissed Arron with a faint smile.
"Go on now. And don't forget to come by after school for the medicine. I'll tell you more about Alex when the time is right."
In Ostasia — Lauran and Henry
Lauran stood across from Henry in the palace courtyard, her disguise finally gone, her real hair loose around her shoulders.
"I need to speak with the governor," she said firmly. "I have to know the current situation of my people."
Henry studied her quietly before nodding.
"Okay," he said at last. "I'll take you there."
They teleported directly into a sprawling palace — its rooftops curved elegantly, the architecture distinctly Eastern, foreign yet breathtaking.
They crouched on the rooftop overlooking an open courtyard, the tiles cool beneath their hands.
Below them, two men sat at a low table playing chess under the veranda.
One, with striking blue hair, leaned back confidently — clearly winning.
The other, with lavender hair, slouched like a man nursing a hangover, clearly losing.
The blue-haired man spoke without looking up.
"Stark. Come out, child. And this time… you brought a friend."
Henry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"…They always know."
He dropped down gracefully to the courtyard, offering a wry bow.
"Uncles," he greeted dryly.
Lauran followed, landing softly beside him. As she stood, she reached up and dropped her cloak, letting them see her fully.
Both men froze.
Before they could react further, she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.
"Uncle Yoosang," she said coolly, "do you realize what Mother will do when she finds out you've become an alcoholic?"
The lavender-haired man visibly winced, looking away in shame.
"And Uncle Jinu," she added, her voice sharp as she glanced at the chessboard, "you really should stop cheating."
The blue-haired man chuckled faintly but didn't deny it.
Instead, he finally looked up and grinned.
"…Well. If it isn't our princess, come home at last."
Henry stayed quiet while the two older men straightened and exchanged glances.
Lauran wasted no time.
"I came here because I need answers — the current situation, the real enemy. What's happening in Ostasia?"
Henry finally spoke, voice calm but edged with determination.
"I'm trying to stop my father. But the truth is… he isn't the real enemy. Someone else is pulling the strings. It'll take time to bring him out of this misunderstanding."
Jinu tilted his head, studying Henry with rare seriousness. Then he sighed and leaned back.
"Hn. Well. You two have school on Monday, don't you? Go home for now. This war won't resolve overnight."
Henry cracked a faint grin.
"We'll be back. Don't worry."
That Night — Euratisia
Back in Euratisia, the dorm was quiet.
Bolt lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing on him.
In his hand, he held the small pouch of pills David had given him earlier that afternoon — the ones meant to stabilize his leaking mana.
He turned it over in his fingers, watching the faint shimmer of light that leaked from the edges of the cloth.
His thoughts tangled — about his real parents, about Alex, about who he even was.
Who am I really?
He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, clutching the pouch a little tighter as though it held the answers.