The morning was bright.
Too bright.
Sunlight washed over the academy grounds, but the atmosphere remained heavy, as if the walls themselves were still grieving. After the incident, the city had fallen into an unnatural silence—one that tried, and failed, to bury the pain beneath routine.
Inside the academy infirmary, a few students sat together, forcing smiles, chatting, laughing softly—each of them trying to forget in their own way.
Trying to pretend.
Rick lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The other three sat nearby.
"So," Rome finally asked, breaking the stillness, "when are you getting discharged?"
Rick turned his head slightly. "The doctor said… tomorrow."
Leze let out a short breath. "You're really lucky, Rick."
"Lucky?" Rick confused.
"You know… the day after tomorrow, there's a ceremony. To honor those who died," Leze said, eyes lowered.
"and those who fought bravely."
His voice trembled at the end.
The room fell silent.
"Well—anyway," Krau said quickly, forcing a grin as he placed a hand on Rick's shoulder. "Let's attend it together? What do you say?"
Rick hesitated, then nodded.
"Yeah… let's do it."
They talked a little longer after that—about nothing important. Then one by one, they left.
Rick remained.
He lay back down, eyes fixed on the roof, thoughts spiraling uncontrollably.
Faces. Screams. Smoke.
The feeling of being helpless.
The following two days passed without incident—but peace did not return so easily.
The city mourned.
People worked tirelessly to repair what had been destroyed. Students who had no classes helped civilians rebuild homes, clear rubble, and restore what little normalcy they could.
Rick was discharged soon after.
And as soon as he got discharged he rushed toward city to see Ema and other.
But thankfully they all were okay.
After seeing that they were alive, Rick finally allowed himself to breathe.
But the relief did not last.
Ema slapped him—hard.
The sound echoed louder than it should have.
"You never came," Ema said, his voice shaking with anger and something deeper. "After the incident with Vein… you never even checked on us. So why come now pretending to care for us." The othe presented at the inn tried to calm Ema down but it was no use.
Rick bowed his head immediately.
"I'm sorry. I really am."
He apologized again and again, his words sincere—but sincerity could not erase fear, pain, or abandonment.
Later, Rick wandered through the back alleys of the city.
Bodies covered with cloth.
People screaming for help.
Others too broken to scream at all.
The smell of blood clung to the air.
On that day, Rick helped wherever he could—lifting debris, carrying the injured, sitting beside the dying so they wouldn't leave this world alone.
But no matter how much he helped…
The weight in his chest never eased.
The day of the ceremony,
Rick stood in his room, adjusting his clothes, his hands trembling slightly.
"Hey!" Rick shouted as he kicked Leze slipping on the bed.
"What's wrong with you?!" Leze annoyed by Rick's kick.
"How long are you planning to sleep?!" Rick continued. "The ceremony's about to start!"
Hearing that Leze sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Sorry for telling you this, but I don't take two fucking business days just to get ready."
Leze as he said that while glared at him, then stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook.
Rick stared at the door for a moment.
"…Whatever."
But the room felt colder after he left.
Moments later, Krai and Rome entered, carrying food.
"Hey," Rome said cautiously. "I saw Leze in the hallway. He looked… angry. Did something happen?"
"Don't worry about it," Rick replied, putting away his casual clothes. "What's the situation at the cafeteria?"
Krai placed the food on the table.
"It's under repair. We're taking meals from another section for now."
Rick nodded.
They ate in silence at first.
No jokes.
No laughter.
Even chewing felt loud.
After finishing, Rick stood up.
"Let's go."
As they began walking toward the auditorium.
Rick entered the auditorium with the other three.
The room was already crowded.
Students filled every seat, standing shoulder to shoulder, whispering among themselves. No one laughed. Even those who spoke did so quietly, as if raising their voice might summon something they did not want to face.
At the front stood a wide stage.
Upon it were written countless names.
Names carved into boards, etched into memory.
These were the people who had died in the terrorist attack.
Rick felt his chest tighten.
Each name felt heavier than the last.
Rick and the others took their place, standing still, facing the stage.
Soon, an instructor stepped forward.
"Everyone," the instructor said, his voice low but firm, "please direct your attention to the stage."
The whispers died instantly.
Every student in the auditorium—and countless citizens listening across the city—fell silent. The ceremony was being broadcast everywhere. No one could escape it.
"I know this situation is harsh," the instructor continued. "But you are here today to honor those who lost their lives."
He paused.
"Now… the Headmaster will address you."
Nuel stepped onto the stage.
The moment he appeared, the air seemed to sink.
"Two hundred and six," Nuel said quietly.
The number echoed.
"These are the number of people who died."
A sharp breath rippled through the crowd.
"Over five hundred were injured."
Silence followed—thick, suffocating.
"The reason," Nuel continued, his voice trembling, "is us."
The crowd froze.
"We are the ones who pledged to protect innocent lives. And yet… we failed."
Nuel lowered himself.
Knees hit the stage.
"For that," he said, bowing deeply, "I can only ask for your forgiveness."
Shock spread through the auditorium.
Students stared, unable to speak. Their minds went blank. Before anyone could react, the instructors followed.
Then the guards.
One by one, they knelt.
Murmurs broke out.
But,
Rick felt something being twist inside his chest.
Slowly—almost without realizing it—he dropped to his knees as well.
"What are you doing, Rick?" Rome whispered, stunned.
Rick didn't look up.
"I don't care about anyone else," he said quietly. "But I promised myself..., that I'll protect people who needed help."
His fists trembled.
"And I couldn't."
His gaze fell to the floor.
Every student was looking at Rick.
But Rick did not look back.
He remained on his knees, unmoving, as if the weight of the room had pressed him into the floor. Seeing him like that, Rome slowly knelt as well. Then Krai. Then Leze.
One by one, other students followed.
Not because they wanted to.
But because standing felt wrong.
Even those who were unhappy, even those filled with anger or doubt, had to kneel in order to protect there image's.
Across the city, people watched in silence.
The sight was unbearable.
Citizens who had done nothing more than watch—who could do nothing more than watch—felt their throats tighten. Eyes burned. Tears fell.
Some cried openly.
Eventhough all they saw were people kneeling.
And yet, it felt like the entire city was begging for forgiveness.
After a long while, everyone stood.
The air felt different now—heavier, quieter.
"Now," Nuel said, his voice steady but drained, "we will honor those who played a major role in protecting the city."
Names were called.
Instructors. Guards. Students.
Each stepped forward, receiving their recognition amid restrained applause. The clapping was soft, almost reluctant, as if no one felt it was right to celebrate.
Finally, Nuel spoke again.
"The ones who fought the key members of the attackers—Soul, Willy, Michale, Blaze… and Rome."
Applause rose louder this time.
Rome moved toward the stage, frozen for a moment before walking forward.
They all were awarded and like that the ceremony finally came to an end.
"Why didn't they call your name?" Krai asked, irritation sharp in his voice.
"It's okay," Rick replied quietly. "Don't worry about it."
"No. It's not okay," Krai snapped, trying to calm himself and then,
"Rick."
A voice came from behind.
Rick turned and saw Blaze standing there, his expression unreadable.
"What is it?" Rick asked.
"Someone wants to meet you," Blaze said calmly. "Can you come with me?"
Rick hesitated.
Rome and Krai watched him closely.
"I'll join you later," Rick said at last.
Rome frowned, but nodded.
"Alright."
"Please," Blaze said, stepping aside. "This way."
Rick followed him.
Soon they stoped in front of an door.
"Go inside. My lord is waiting."
Blaze stood before the door, unmoving.
Rick said nothing and stepped past him.
The room was dim and quiet. Nuel stood near the window, hands behind his back, staring into the sky as if searching for something beyond it.
Without turning, he spoke.
"Rick Van Vleck."
The name hit harder than any shout.
Rick froze.
"how shocking," Nuel continued calmly, "that the son of Duke Vleck is studying in the current batch."
Rick clenched his jaw.
Nuel turned and walked toward the sofa. "What a surprise."
He sat down and gestured for Rick to do the same.
Rick obeyed.
"Am I going to be expelled?" Rick asked quietly.
Nuel waved the thought away. "No. You're not the only one who hid their family name. And as long as you follow academy rules and don't cause trouble, your name means nothing to me."
He poured tea and slid a cup toward Rick.
"I don't care about your lineage," Nuel said. "Or what it represents."
Rick stared into the tea, the surface trembling slightly.
"Then why did you call me here?"
Nuel took a slow sip.
"It's about why you weren't awarded," he said. "Despite fighting a strong opponent."
Rick's grip tightened.
"The person you fought," Nuel continued, "is someone special. His identity is classified. We were explicitly ordered not to disclose it."
Rick looked up.
"And because we couldn't find any official justification to reward you without revealing that identity… we chose silence."
Nuel met Rick's eyes.
"But don't misunderstand," he said. "In my name, I can grant you one reasonable thing of your choosing."
Rick didn't answer immediately.
The room felt heavier.
Then,
"It's okay if you—"
"Who was he?"
Rick cut him off.
Nuel blinked.
"What?"
"You said I could choose," Rick said, voice steady now. "So I want to know who he was. And why he joined the attackers."
For the first time, Nuel hesitated.
Rick raised his gaze fully.
"And why do you think i know that."Nuel while taking another sip of tea.
"He fought me, a Peak External Art master on equal terms without using Mana." Rick in loud voice.
Rick's breath caught.
"His daughter is under the direct protection of the Royal Knight Commander," Rick continued. "He said the current king's name like he know him and the reason you are not willing to disclose his identity to public despite him being a criminal," Rick leaning forward joining both hand." Isn't this is enough of a proof that you know something."
As Rick spoke, the room fell unnaturally silent.
The soft clink of a cup being placed on the table echoed far louder than it should have.
Nuel's hands came together, fingers interlocked. His gaze sharpened—not with anger, but with interest.
"You're quite sharp," he said. "Especially for someone whose exam scores are… average."
Rick said nothing.
"Are you certain," Nuel continued calmly, "that this is what you want to ask for? There are many other things you could request. Things you may need far more urgently."
"It's fine,"Rick leaned back slightly, eyes steady. "Just tell me about him."
"Alright," Nuel said. "But I hope you won't tell anyone else. If this gets out… it won't end well for you." as he released a little bit of pressure.
The air in the room grew heavy—thick, oppressive. The curtains stirred even though there was no wind. The tea in Necl's cup trembled, ripples spreading across its surface.
Rick swallowed.
"I swear," he said quietly, "on my mother's name."
The pressure vanished—but the silence remained.
Watching.
Listening.
And in that closed room, where no outsider could hear,
a story began to unfold.
A story that led to an event which will become the talk of the entire nation.