—One Week Later—
Classes were finally starting.
The first week had been orientation—students met their assigned instructors, got a rundown of the school rules, toured the buildings, and were placed into teams. But now that was over.
Today marked the beginning of real classes. The first-year students, all grouped together for their core lessons, would finally train in earnest. No more walking tours. No more breaks. Just pure, focused instruction—and for Kael, that meant being surrounded by dozens of noble children.
He wasn't looking forward to it.
During the past week, Kael's punishment had been running laps and refining his eather control alongside Team 5. It wasn't fun, but it wasn't unbearable. Now, though, he'd be stepping into the academy's larger environment—where judgmental stares, whispered rumors, and entitled noble brats were waiting.
Just thinking about it makes me want to skip, Kael thought bitterly. Silvius had told him to keep his emotions in check, but what if some pompous noble started throwing insults at him or his family?
Could he hold back? Could he stop himself from doing something reckless?
Kael sighed as he walked down the long corridor with Emilio at his side. All around them, the academy buzzed with activity—students moving between classes, chatting in groups, laughing too loudly.
And then, the stares started.
Dozens of eyes landed on him as if he were a walking scandal. The looks ranged from curiosity to disgust, like they were seeing a monster in uniform.
"Hey, Kael. Don't worry about the stares," Emilio said beside him, trying to sound calm.
Kael nodded. Emilio was right. But the sense of unease gnawed at him.
[Brat, keep your head down and stay focused. Remember why you're here, not who's watching you.]
The Ash Crow's voice echoed in Kael's mind.
He'd been speaking to Kael more often lately. Kael learned something important—that as a divine beast grows more in sync with its host, their bodies begin to resonate, merging slightly. That resonance made it harder for divine beasts to speak, and right now, the Ash Crow had to burn through his own eather just to communicate.
That's why he'd gone silent during Kael's punishment. He wasn't ignoring him—he was saving strength.
It was a relief in a way. Kael was growing stronger. But part of him wondered… would he be completely alone once their connection deepened?
"Kael."
He snapped out of his thoughts and turned to Emilio.
"We're here. Let's go in."
Kael nodded.
The moment he stepped inside the lecture hall, the tension hit him like a wave.
Hundreds of students were already seated. The class was massive—close to 200 or 300 students. One half of the room was filled with commoners. The other side, clearly divided, belonged to nobles, their uniforms spotless, their expressions cold and calculating.
Whispers spread like wildfire the second Kael walked in.
"Is that the last heir of House Veyrion?"
"Yeah. I heard he fought a teacher."
"He must be a thug."
Kael could feel the glares—like hundreds of tiny blades pointed at his back but he didn't flinch, he didn't look around. He just walked forward as if he hadn't heard a thing.
Behind him, Emilio scanned the room, trying to read the mood. The tension was thick, and the nobles weren't even trying to hide their contempt.
Kael scanned the room, searching for an empty seat. Just as he spotted one near the back, a student stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
Kael didn't even bother to look up at first—he assumed it was a mistake. But the boy didn't move. He crossed his arms and smirked with clear malice.
"Move," Kael said, glaring up at him.
"And why should I?" the boy replied, mocking. Two other students behind him laughed under their breath, clearly enjoying the confrontation.
Kael's jaw tensed. He wanted to hit him—but held it in. Barely.
"I heard what happened to your family," the boy continued, his grin widening. "Honestly, it was expected. With power like that, no wonder your father turned out to be a traitor. My father always said the Veyrion name was rotten."
Before Kael could respond, Emilio stepped in between them, his voice sharp.
"Hey. That's enough."
The boy cocked an eyebrow. "And who are you supposed to be?"
"Someone you really don't want to piss off. Walk away." Emilio's tone was firm, his stance protective.
"Pfft, what are you, some kind of hero?" the boy scoffed. "Trying to rescue the traitor son of a disgraced house? That's rich."
Emilio glanced back at Kael. He knew that word—"traitor"—was a trigger. If this continued, Kael might snap, and that's exactly what someone wanted.
Across the classroom, Lucian sat quietly behind Lyssandra and Ryven, arms folded as he observed the tension unfold.
"Ugh, those idiots again," Lyssandra muttered, rolling her eyes. "It's like trouble follows him wherever he goes."
"Makes things more interesting, doesn't it?" Ryven chuckled. "What do you think, Lucian?"
Lucian said nothing. He just narrowed his eyes and stayed silent.
Back at the front, Kael exhaled slowly. Then, without warning, he brushed past the boy, deliberately shoulder-checking him aside.
"Don't stand in my way again," he muttered. "Or I'll put you through the floor."
The boy stumbled a bit from the shove. He looked shaken—clearly not the reaction he was expecting.
"How rude of you!" he snapped, trying to recover his pride. "That's why your father was a damn traitor, just like you!"
Kael stopped mid-step.
Emilio's eyes went wide. No. He turned, trying to defuse the situation, but then caught something.
The boy wasn't looking at Kael anymore.
He was glancing—subtly, but unmistakably—toward Prince Daranth, seated far across the room.
"Hah! I knew it." Emilio laughed, putting the pieces together. There was no way this random noble brat would pick a fight with Kael out of nowhere unless someone told him to.
Kael narrowed his eyes as Emilio subtly pointed behind the seats.
"That bastard wasn't acting on his own," Emilio said. "He was sent by a bigger snake—look over there."
Kael followed Emilio's gaze.
There he was—blonde hair, piercing blue eyes—Prince Daranth.
And in that moment, Kael's heart sank. The resemblance was unmistakable. He looked just like him.
The king.
The same arrogant smirk. The same icy stare. Kael remembered his words—"You must be Kael. I have a son your age. I'm sure you two will be good friends."
Kael clenched his jaw, trying to keep the memories from flooding in, but they hit him all the same. The fire.
He wanted to rip Daranth's head off just to forget the memory of that man.
"Aah," Kael muttered under his breath, his voice laced with venom. "No matter how far I run, my greatest curse always finds me."
Daranth stood up from the back row, walking slowly down the steps with the poise of someone who had never been told no in his life. He clapped mockingly as he approached.
"Impressive," Daranth said. "I heard you were a hothead, especially when someone used that word. But here you are, still holding it together."
Kael's hands curled into fists at his sides. His muscles tensed. Every part of him screamed to attack. His vision blurred at the edges from how tight he was clenching his jaw.
Just one move,just one single strike, he could end this.
Maybe if I strangle him right here… the king will lose an heir.
Daranth could feel it too.
He saw the bloodlust behind Kael's eyes. And it only made him smile wider.
The famed bloodline of the North—the house of Veyrion, who slew dragons and monsters across generations—now boiled down to this boy in front of him, barely holding back the urge to kill.
It was intoxicating.
Daranth tilted his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Come on then, Kael. Show me what kind of monster you really are."