Chapter Eight: Sean, Lord of the Unknown (Part Three)
Night draped itself over the city like a heavy curtain as the caravan advanced along the paved road beyond the walls, heading toward the Imperial Academy of Path Masters.
Dozens of ornate carriages moved in steady formation, pulled by powerful black horses. Tight security surrounded them, for these were no ordinary people…
They were the seeds of the future.
Young Path Masters at the very beginning of their journey—between fourteen and sixteen years old.
Young ages…
Yet moments like these were where the fate of entire worlds was decided.
Inside one of the luxurious carriages sat a boy with flame-red hair, leaning lazily as he stared out the window. Across from him sat a girl with pure white hair and a calm face, though her gaze carried pride and arrogance.
He was Roman Bolton, awakened to the Path of Blood.
She was Megan Bolton, awakened to the Path of Ice.
Both were children of the city lord.
Children of the highest class.
Children of Peter Bolton.
The carriage door opened quietly.
Sean entered, his head lowered as always, carrying a tray with cups of drink.
He moved silently, his expression empty—like a shadow with no existence of its own.
Roman took a cup without even looking at him, as if Sean were nothing but air.
He took a sip, then spoke in a voice coated with arrogance:
"Sean… wash my clothes now. I don't want to see them dirty when we arrive."
Sean did not hesitate.
He did not raise his head.
He simply nodded in submission.
"Yes… my lord."
Megan looked at him with a cold gaze—a mixture of pity and contempt—then said in a calm yet cutting tone:
"Even after becoming a Path Master… you still behave like a servant."
"Truly impressive."
Sean did not respond.
He took the clothes, bowed slightly, and left quietly.
Outside, the air was filled with young voices—students speaking excitedly about their futures, their power, their ambitions.
And among them walked Sean…
Carrying washed clothes and water.
A Path Master…
Yet still a servant.
No one noticed him.
No one truly looked at him.
As if the entire world had agreed that Sean…
was someone not worth seeing.
But beyond sight…
something was brewing in his heart.
Something heavy.
Something dark.
Something that was coming.
The caravan moved steadily through the roads of the empire.
With every city it passed, it grew larger.
Newly awakened Path Masters joined one after another—young faces carrying pride, ambition, and a quiet fear of the future.
Days and nights passed.
The caravan stretched longer and longer, like a great serpent crawling toward its destiny.
Until at last…
they saw it.
The capital.
Al-Arish.
The capital of the Nubian Empire.
John lifted his gaze as he moved with the caravan, his thoughts heavy with history.
"Nubia… this empire was destroyed in the wars of the twenty-first century…"
"And now we are in the thirty-third century…"
"While Sean himself was born in the sixteenth."
Time itself seemed to mock existence.
Civilizations rose and fell…
But the Paths endured.
At the gates of the capital, the caravan came to a halt.
The sect leader stepped forward—a man of immense presence, a Path Master of the Adept level.
He looked at them all, his voice firm as stone:
"From here on… you proceed on your own."
"You are now under the authority of the Empire, not the sect."
Then he turned and left.
As if that single step marked the beginning of a new phase in each of their lives.
The youths entered the capital.
At the front walked Roman Bolton, his red hair blazing, pride evident in his gaze. Beside him was Megan Bolton, her presence cold as ice, accompanied by other nobles.
They walked with confidence…
As if the ground itself had been prepared for them since birth.
And behind them…
Sean walked.
He did not even dare walk in the middle.
His presence was faint.
Like a shadow.
The streets of Al-Arish were alive with people lining both sides.
They cheered.
They clapped.
They shouted with admiration:
"The future of the Empire!"
"The heroes of tomorrow!"
"The Path Masters!"
Children waved enthusiastically.
Women watched with admiration.
Men looked on with eyes full of hope.
But Sean passed among them like he did not belong.
Like an intruder in a painting of glory that was never meant for him.
Then…
they saw it.
The Academy.
It was like a city of its own—spanning a vast area of nearly two thousand feddans.
Towering walls.
Grand gates.
Massive buildings.
Training fields.
Battle arenas.
Research halls.
An entire world built solely for them.
The Academy of Path Masters.
The place where youth would be reshaped…
into leaders.
A full year they would spend here.
A year to learn combat.
To build relationships.
To form alliances.
To understand the true nature of the world.
A year to prepare them to become scholars, doctors, engineers, inventors…
And at the same time…
the sharpest swords of the Empire.
Everything shone with power, ambition, and the promise of the future.
Students entered the academy gates one by one.
Guards stood on both sides in formal uniforms bearing the imperial emblem.
Each student presented their identification and received their room assignment.
Sean entered last.
He approached with hesitant steps and handed his card to the guard.
The guard examined it quickly, then looked up with a polite smile:
"Welcome, sir… this is your room. Level Three – Eastern Wing."
Sean took the metal plate bearing his room number, bowed slightly in thanks without speaking, and passed through the gate.
Inside, whispers filled the air.
Students talking.
Laughing.
Boasting.
Overflowing with excitement.
"There will be an official reception tomorrow…"
"They said the leaders of the Empire will attend!"
"I don't care about anything right now… I just want a real bed. I'm tired of sleeping on the ground…"
No one paid attention to Sean.
He passed among them like a fleeting shadow, then silently headed toward the residence building.
High above the academy…
Two Path Masters floated quietly in the sky.
Their long robes fluttered, and their spiritual auras filled the air with pressure.
The first, with golden hair and eyes, spoke in a deep voice:
"This batch… is unusual."
"There are rare Paths among them."
The second, with blue hair and eyes, replied:
"Yes… Blood, Ice… and even Darkness."
He paused, then added in a less enthusiastic tone:
"And there are also… worthless Paths."
Their gaze shifted toward a lone figure walking quietly below.
Sean.
The golden-eyed man spoke:
"The Path of the Unknown… more of a curse than a blessing."
The other sighed:
"At least… as a Path Master…"
"He will no longer live as a slave."
They watched him in silence.
Then vanished into the sky as if they had never been there.
Sean opened the door to his room.
He froze for a few seconds.
Unable to move.
The sight before him was beyond his comprehension.
A luxurious room.
A large bed with soft white sheets.
A wide desk.
Beautiful paintings on the walls.
Silk curtains swaying gently in the air.
And in the corner…
a piano.
Sean approached slowly and ran his hand across its smooth surface.
He had never dreamed of living in a place like this.
He had never even dared to imagine it.
He sat on the bed.
Looked around once…
twice…
three times.
"How could someone like me… live here?"
He did not understand the feeling growing inside him.
It was warm.
New.
Strange.
So he ignored it—
as he had always ignored anything beautiful.
But John understood.
He knew the name of the feeling Sean was trying to escape.
It was…
the first true thread of self-worth.
At sunrise, bells rang throughout the academy, announcing the beginning of a new day.
Sean left his room with quiet steps, moving with a wave of students heading toward Hall (1)—the hall where their batch would be officially received.
The building resembled a colossal structure.
Inside, the auditorium was vast enough to hold two thousand students with ease.
Tiered seating rose in a semi-circle.
At the front stood a platform equipped with spiritual symbols and energy amplification devices.
Sean sat in the farthest corner.
Hidden from sight.
Far from attention.
The hall gradually filled.
Laughter.
Boasting about family status.
Talk of influence.
Alliances forming in moments.
"I'm from the Carmin family…"
"My father is an Adept-level Fire Path Master…"
"I'll be the best here—you'll see…"
And Sean…
was like a shadow sitting in the light.
Faint.
Silent.
Weightless.
Then suddenly—
A short man entered.
He had a thick dark beard, and his steps struck the ground with confidence.
He stood at the center of the platform and spoke in a thunderous voice:
"Silence."
It wasn't a word.
It was a command.
And everyone fell silent instantly—
as if the earth itself had demanded obedience.
He raised his head slightly and said in a firm tone:
"I expect discipline and silence from all of you."
"I am one of the academy's instructors…"
"An Earth Path Master…"
"Batcho."
Silence dominated the hall.
No one dared whisper.
He continued:
"I will now introduce the faculty."
A side door opened.
Five men entered.
Their presence alone made the air feel heavy.
"These… are the academy professors."
"All of them have reached the Transcendent level."
The students' gazes were filled with both respect and fear.
Among them were the golden-haired man and the blue-haired man who had observed the students from the sky.
Then—
The doors opened once more.
A chill ran through the hall.
A man in a crimson robe stepped inside.
His hair burned red like embers.
His eyes shone like boiling blood.
Every step he took made the space feel tighter.
Before him was power.
Behind him was authority.
The students whispered:
"The Dean…"
"Dean Krix…"
"A Blood Path Master…"
"He has reached… the Legendary rank…"
Right behind him walked a woman with glowing green hair and eyes like a raging emerald storm.
She was calm…
Yet even the wind seemed to bow to her.
"The Vice Dean… Jumana…"
"A Wind Path Master…"
"She is also… a Legend…"
Batcho stepped aside respectfully, leaving the platform.
Krix moved forward.
He looked at the thousands of students.
His gaze alone tested the strength of their hearts.
Then he spoke—
his voice steady, powerful, filling the hall effortlessly:
"Welcome… to the Imperial Academy of Path Masters."