Getting food was simple—just take a tray already laid out on the counter. No words exchanged, no waiting in line.
Vael grabbed one, idly noting how efficient it was. Back in the villages, allergies had been a nightmare.
People sneezing themselves half-dead or swelling up from something as harmless as a potato. Commoners were the worst off—spending their lives fighting worms and parasites until their bodies mistook everything for an enemy.
The lack of basic hygiene didn't help, either.
But here? Once someone awakened, all of that vanished. The body rewrote itself, smoothing over most genetic flaws.
No one cared about allergies anymore. Another problem solved by mana.
Vael's tray carried a hunk of soft bread, a mound of seasoned rice, and meat. Actual meat—none of that half-spoiled bullshit the inn tried to pass off as food.
The portion was generous too, considering how many mouths the Academy had to feed. He sat down at an empty table without hesitation, hunger gnawing at him after two days without a proper meal.
Only a handful of students lingered in the hall—two in quiet conversation, three more huddled together farther off. No one paid him any attention.
"So," Vael asked silently as he tore into the bread, "now that I'm admitted, is it safe to have you out and about? Will we get caught?"
"A bit late to be asking that, isn't it, contractor?" Oculor's voice carried a dry amusement, straight from behind the eyepatch. "As for your concern… those runes were only meant to detect intrusions. The creators never imagined something like me could already be inside."
Vael chewed, lips twitching into a grin. That thought alone made the food taste even better.
Observing the students around him, Vael noticed something curious. A golden pin gleamed faintly on his uniform, yet none of his colleagues wore one.
The pin bore the image of an owl, its wings half-spread, and beneath it were etched two words: "Invyctar, Uncarvalis."
Vael's gaze lingered on the inscription. He recognized the script immediately. Back in his village, the small schoolhouse had taught children just enough to function in society. Among the lessons had been the Loman tongue—not fluency, but recognition.
This was it.
A language born in Platinam l, now spread across much of the continent.
If he followed logic, Invyctar had the ring of something like invincible—or perhaps undefeated. The meaning felt right, considering what he had achieved compared to the others.
But Uncarvalis… that one remained a mystery.
"Undefeated," he muttered with a dry laugh. If there was one thing Vael wasn't, it was that.
He had known failure. Loss.
The memory of his village clawed its way back—his mother, dead twice, both times because of his inadequacy. His siblings… Gods only knew where. Perhaps gone as well.
The truth was, Vael was strong. Ridiculously so for his age. In mana, yes. In swordplay, too. But strength didn't erase the past.
I've reached the third stage… but that doesn't mean I can grow complacent. I won't forget my promise.
The light mood he'd carried from his first real meal in days had already soured. Without realizing it, his killing intent began to seep out, curling through the air like a shadow of his thoughts.
More than in the final minute of the exam, when he'd been unleashed. More even than when he tortured Veltren.
His power had grown—and so had his aura.
If someone were to stand a meter in front of him now, they would be crushed instantly under the multiplied gravity.
The table didn't survive that fate.
CRSHH—BOOM!
Splinters shot across the floor as the wooden frame buckled and collapsed, plate and tray clattering in a violent mess.
"Tsk."
Vael rose to his feet and walked out, slow and deliberate, his peers' eyes following him the whole way.
Needless to say, they were terrified.
But Vael didn't care.
Death was coming.