Claire Bladeheart
The polished stone floor of the administration wing reverberated faintly with my determined footsteps. A knot of worry tightened in my chest, sharper than the usual academic pressures.
Kai Crestless.
His absence this school year felt like a missing tile in a familiar mosaic—small? Yes, insignificant? perhaps, but throwing the whole picture off.
We had never been close, not by a long shot. He was quiet, mysterious sometimes watching with an unsettling stillness that bordered on creepy. But we had shared classes, nodded in the hallways, existed in the same orbit of Xyrus Academy school life.
He belonged here. Whatever had happened—family trouble, illness, a sudden transfer—I needed to know. It wasn't just curiosity; it felt like a duty, a responsibility to the structure of the academy I was part of.
Leaving like that without traves felt wrong, abrupt, unexplained. Director Goodsky would have answers.
Reaching the imposing oak door of her office, I barely paused, my knuckles poised to rap against the dark wood.
However, before I could connect my knuckles, the door swung inwards with surprising force. A figure barreled out, head down, lost in thought or haste, and collided squarely with me. The impact sent us both stumbling backwards.
The training I have gone through both at school and from my Uncle kicked in instinctively; a surge of mana augmented my muscles, absorbing the brunt of the fall, turning what could have been a painful sprawl onto the hard floor into an inelegant, controlled descent onto one knee.
The boy, however, landed hard on his backside with a surprised grunt.
Irritation flared, hot and quick. "Seriously?" I huffed, pushing myself up smoothly. "Looking in front of you isn't a bad habit, you know?" I kept my tone light, masking the flicker of annoyance.
My pride was more bruised than my body, but the embarrassment was clearly written all over his face as he scrambled awkwardly on the floor. He looked young, surely younger than me—a first-year, probably, overwhelmed by the Academy's vastness.
His hair was gunmetal and unruly, falling over his forehead in a way that suggested proper combing was low on his priority list. The awkwardness radiated off him.
Typical newbie disorientation, I thought, my slight irritation softening into the familiar mantle of the experienced student. It was time to guide the lost lamb.
"Sorry," he mumbled, voice tight with mortification, not meeting my eyes. "I wasn't looking..." He finally accepted the hand I offered, his grip surprisingly firm despite the tremor of embarrassment.
As I hauled him up, his gaze finally lifted to mine. And that's when the strangeness hit me. It wasn't the look of someone seeing a stranger, nor the starstruck awe some younger students directed at the Bladeheart heiress.
It was… recognition.
A calm, assessing look, as if he was slotting my face into a pre-existing category. Acquaintance? But I was certain we had never met.
"Do we know each other?" I asked, tilting my head, studying his features—sharp elven lines, eyes that held a disconcerting depth for a first-year. There was a stillness about him, a quiet intensity that didn't fit the flustered boy who had just fallen.
"No," he stated, his voice regaining a measure of composure. It was flat, factual. "We have never met before." He paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, "But I have heard of you, Miss Bladeheart."
"Drop the 'Miss'," I countered, forcing a casual shrug, though his earlier look still nagged at me. "We go to the same school, after all. Claire is fine."
"Sure," he said, already shifting his weight, clearly eager to escape the scene of his social disaster. "Now, if you excuse me, I have to go." He started to turn.
"Wait," I called, curiosity overriding my original mission for a moment. "Your name?" He seemed… unusual. And that absence of mana I had subtly probed for? Utterly void. Like standing next to a normal person without magic capabilities.
He paused, half-turned.
"Corvis Eralith." The name clicked instantly. He was Tessia's brother. Her quiet twin, the one who wanted to fade into the background despite his royal blood. He offered no further pleasantries, just hurried down the corridor, his hair bouncing with each step, leaving me standing there, momentarily distracted from Kai.
Corvis Eralith. The Student Council President's brother. Attending Xyrus, yet radiating so little mana he almost seemed to not have a core at all. And that look… Why had he looked at me like he knew me?
"May I help you, Claire?" Director Goodsky's calm voice cut through my thoughts. She stood framed in her doorway, her expression soft, but her sharp eyes missing nothing.
I snapped my focus back, the urgency about Kai flooding back. Stepping into her office, the scent of old parchment and a subtle, calming herbal tea enveloped me.
"Director," I began, my voice regaining its earlier determination, infused with the discipline of the Bladeheart household. "I would like to ask you a question."
A faint, knowing smile touched her lips. "And what might you want to ask an old lady like me?"
"It's about Kai," I stated, cutting to the chase. "Kai Crestless. I don't see him around anymore this year. I checked the class lists, the dorm rosters… nothing. I wpuld like to know what happened to him." I met her gaze squarely, the concern I felt translating into unwavering focus.
"He was… part of the academy. Even if he kept to himself. Did his family move? Was he transferred?"
Director Goodsky's smile vanished. It wasn't a dramatic shift, but a subtle tightening around her eyes, a fractional stiffening of her posture. The warmth in her gaze cooled, replaced by a guardedness that sent a distinct chill down my spine.
"Unfortunately," she said, her voice losing its usual melodic warmth, becoming measured, almost clipped, "as you have noticed, Kai Crestless won't be attending our school anymore."
The words hung heavy in the suddenly stifling air of the office. They weren't just an answer; they were a wall. She offered no explanation—no illness, no transfer, no family reasons. Just a stark, final pronouncement.
The displeasure in her tone wasn't directed at me, I realized with a sinking feeling. It was directed at Kai, at the situation itself. And the lack of detail… it screamed of something far darker than a simple withdrawal.
The knot of worry in my chest turned to ice. Kai hadn't just left. Something was very, very wrong. The Director's closed expression told me I wouldn't get the truth—not today.
But I wasn't one to let a mystery lie, especially not when it felt like a shadow had fallen over the halls of Xyrus. The hunt for answers had just become infinitely more complicated, and infinitely more necessary.
I had to see this through.
Corvis Eralith
The echo of my own clumsy footsteps a stark counterpoint to Claire's composed intensity. That was Claire Bladeheart, I groaned inwardly, the heat of embarrassment prickling my neck. Lost in the labyrinth of my own thoughts—schematics for improved Ineptrune mana containment and the ever-present shadow of Alacrya—I had walked straight into a human wall.
Worse, a highly perceptive, famously powerful one. Her eyes had held that unnerving assessment, a warrior's gaze that felt like it could peel back layers of princely reserve. What an utterly mortifying display. My only consolation was the speed of my escape.
Now, however, the familiar dread of the inevitable settled cold in my gut. A practical class. Team-Fighting Mechanics I with the formidable Professor Glory. Scholar mage or not, the curriculum demanded it. A strategist forced onto the battlefield.
Thankfully the mana stored inside Against the Tragedy masked my manalessness making ab evaluation of my core almost impossible to even a trained glance.
The sole sliver of relief was knowing Grey and Tessia would be there. With Grey's competence and Tessia's fierce protectiveness, perhaps I could blend into the background, a ghost prince observing the fray.
Against the Tragedy hummed faintly beneath my sleeve, a potential shield and a potential weapon… but revealing its capabilities here, in the open air, felt like painting a target on my back for any lurking Alacryan eyes. Discretion, not demonstration, was the order of the day.
Stepping into the sun-drenched courtyard designated for combat training, the shift was jarring. The air buzzed with raw, untamed energy—the low thrum of nervous anticipation, the scent of trampled grass and sweat replacing the sterile corridors. I spotted Grey immediately, a still point amidst the swirling students.
He leaned against a weathered stone pillar, Sylvie perched on his shoulder like a silver sentinel. Her eyes blinked at me, a silent greeting, before she vanished with a jump, reappearing momentarily on my shoulder with a soft kyu before jumping back to Grey.
"Your sister?" Grey asked, his gaze scanning the chattering groups assembling on the grass.
"Seems I'm earlier than her," I noted, my own eyes drawn not to Tessia's absence, but to the numerous stares directed Grey's way. Whispers followed him like a trailing shadow.
"Fans of yours?" I asked dryly.
Grey's lips twitched in a semblance of a smirk. "Jealousy wrapped in accusations of nepotism. Aunt Cynthia appointing me as a professor ruffled more feathers than I anticipated." He shrugged, the gesture radiating indifference, but I caught the subtle tension in his shoulders. Aunt Cynthia. The title clicked.
He had beaten Professor Geist and taken his place. The logic was sound—Grey possessed knowledge and power far beyond any standard curriculum. But the safety of putting him, a walking beacon of Vritra heritage, in front of dozens of potentially observant students? Cynthia's gamble felt audacious.
"You really call her 'Aunt' then..." I observed, testing the waters.
"Precaution," he murmured, his voice low. "And… I suspect she enjoys it." A flicker of something warmer crossed his face, quickly masked. "Especially when she uses it to tease me about Tess—" He cut himself off abruptly, a faint, uncharacteristic flush creeping up his neck.
My eyebrows shot up. "You do realize I'm her brother?" I countered, my voice laced with wry disbelief. "Should you really be sharing… that… so openly?"
A protective surge, sharp and instinctive, warred with absurdity. Tessia and Grey? Romance? I knew that in the novel, but... The sheer dissonance was almost laughable. Focus, Corvis! I mentally scolded myself, shaking my head slightly as if to dislodge the bizarre tangent.
Hormones and teenage drama are irrelevant luxuries when gods want to make your home their proxy theatre of war.
An awkward silence descended, thick and palpable between us, filled only by the rising babble of students and the distant cry of a hawk. The tension was broken by a sharp, nasal voice slicing through the courtyard murmur.
"You! What are you doing here, commoner?!"
I turned to see Lucas Wykes striding towards Grey, his blond hair impeccably styled, his half-elven features twisted in sneering contempt. The air around him practically vibrated with entitled arrogance.
Grey sighed, a sound of profound weariness mixed with dark amusement. "Oh, look who it is. Hi, Lucas," he greeted, his tone dangerously light. "Glad to see you've recovered from the physical injuries. Shame about the ego—still as shattered as the last time, I see?"
Lucas's face contorted, flushing crimson. "What did you just say?!" he snarled, lunging forward to grab Grey's collar.
Grey moved with liquid grace, not defensive, but dismissive. His hand closed around Lucas's wrist, not violently, but with an implacable strength that halted the grab mid-air. He carefully, deliberately, peeled Lucas's fingers from his tunic.
"Listen, Wykes," Grey stated, his voice dropping to a low, icy register that silenced the nearby chatter using his surname to show him he didn't care about who his family was. "You should be on your knees thanking me for saving your cowardly hide after you almost sacrificed those adventurers in the Dire Tombs. I'm not in the mood to suffer your presence today. Go."
Lucas sputtered, face purple with rage and humiliation. He muttered something venomous—disgusting commoner or similar—before turning on his heel and storming off, radiating impotent fury.
"Another fan?" I asked Grey, though the icy contempt in my own voice mirrored his. I had a faint idea of what might have happened between them.
"When I found the Elderwood Guardian's core," Grey confirmed, his gaze tracking Lucas's retreating back with undisguised disgust.
"The Adventurer's Guild sent me as backup to the Dire Tombs. Found this… specimen… actively feeding his comrades to the mana beast to save his own skin. Sylvie and I barely intervened in time." The memory clearly still burned.
"I understand," I replied, the words cold and final. My own gaze followed Lucas, not with Grey's weary contempt, but with a sharper, colder assessment. A liability. A potential pawn for darker forces. Grey noticed the intensity of my stare.
"You really don't seem to like him either, huh?" he observed, a flicker of dark humor returning.
"No," I stated flatly. The single word held volumes.
Before more could be said, a piercing cry split the air. We pivoted as one towards the source. Professor Glory descended into the courtyard, her presence commanding immediate attention. Beside her, wings folding with predatory grace, perched Torch, her Flare Hawk bond, eyes like molten gold scanning the students. Glory's sharp gaze swept over us, missing nothing.
"Apologies for the delay, everyone," she announced, her voice carrying effortlessly. "Matters with the Student Council took precedence."
As if summoned by her words, the Student Council members arrived, filing onto the field. And there she was, leading them—Tessia.
She spotted Grey and me instantly, offering a quick, bright wave, though her Vice-President, Clive Graves, was still speaking intently to her, no doubt about some urgent duty.
Glory clapped her hands, drawing everyone's attention. "Oh, look who we have here! If it isn't my newest colleague," she said, walking up to me and Grey before turning her gaze to him.
"Pleasure to meet you," she added with a grin.
Immediately, murmurs spread through the students, and even those who hadn't known Grey was now a professor quickly caught on.
"Yes, it's true," Glory confirmed, clearly enjoying the commotion. "Grey here is the new professor for Practical Mana Manipulation."
The announcement sparked immediate protests.
"This can't be possible!" some students argued.
I understood their reaction—it wasn't common for someone so young to be given a professor's title, even if it was Grey.
Glory remained unfazed. "Have some faith in the Director's choice," she replied smoothly.
"What has he done?" another student challenged. "Defeating an underclassmen professor? Plenty of upperclassmen could do that easily!"
The back-and-forth continued until Glory decided to settle things in her own way.
"I like the fire in your eyes," she said, pointing at Grey with a playful smirk. "How about you challenge my new colleague, then?"
Grey seemed caught off guard for a moment before hesitantly replying, "I don't think that's a good idea, Professor."
Glory placed a hand on his shoulder, still smirking. "Come on, don't be boring! I'm only asking for a simple demonstration."
She then turned to the students. "Right, everybody?"
The class erupted in cheers, more excited for the action and seeing Grey's receiving a lesson, than the actual proof of his abilities.
"What exactly do you have in mind, Professor?" Grey asked, likely realizing he couldn't get out of this.
"I usually start the semester with some fun games—like war and conquest," Glory began, but was interrupted by a familiar voice.
"I might have a suggestion, Professor."
I turned toward Curtis, the prince of Sapin, raising his hand politely. It had been a while since I'd seen him—our last meeting was when my family visited Etistin. Of course, he was at Xyrus, just like in canon.
"Since this course focuses on Team-Fighting Mechanics, why don't we split into teams?" Curtis suggested.
Glory considered it for a moment before nodding. "That's actually not a bad idea!"
She clapped her hands together. "Fine! We'll have a mock battle between our new professor and a team of four students. Obviously, lethal magic and excessive destruction are strictly prohibited—breaking those rules will result in immediate expulsion from my class!"
I had to admit—Glory was good at motivating people.
No wonder she became a captain during the war against Alacrya.
---
How did I let them drag me into this?
I thought to myself as Tessia adjusted the magic gear on my elbow, securing it properly before the battle.
"Something wrong, Corvis?" she asked, smirking at my obvious frustration.
"Yeah... why am I even here?" I muttered.
When Curtis invited Tessia to join his team, it wasn't surprising—she was the strongest first-year after Grey, after all. Then he chose Claire, who had arrived late to class, and—to "punish" her—Glory made her join the team.
Eventually, they picked me as the last member.
I wasn't exactly sure why.
Maybe it was Claire's curiosity from our earlier encounter. Maybe it was Curtis, wanting to see how the Eralith heir was doing. Or maybe it was Tessia, suddenly praising me excessively even after they had already decided.
Was I just a magnet for trouble?
Or was being near Grey the real issue?
We were bound by Fate, after all. Wouldn't be shocking if that was the reason.
"I can't wait to finally see one of those strange inventions of yours—y'know, the ones that almost gave Grampa a stroke," Tessia teased as she finished adjusting my gear.
"Invention?" Claire, standing nearby with Curtis, perked up. "Did I hear that right? What kind of surprises are you hiding, Corvis?"
"My brother has a rather unconventional way of fighting," Tessia said, deliberately vague.
Curtis crossed his arms, eyeing me with curiosity. "Oh? Now you've got me interested, Prince Eralith."
Before I could respond, Glory called for attention.
"Listen up!" she announced. "For this mock battle, there are additional rules beyond the ones I've already set."
She held up a finger.
"First— the magic gear on your elbows and knees will beep when enough magic is applied. When that happens, you're out. And remember—these don't protect you, so be careful with augmenting yourself!"
That was… problematic.
If I augmented myself, I'd likely end up on the ground, risking a severe allergic reaction.
Glory continued, raising a second finger.
"Second— since Prince Curtis' team has the advantage in numbers, Prince Corvis will be designated as the King. If he's taken out, the team loses."
That was... bad. Really, really bad.
But at least I was certain Grey wouldn't use Static Void or his decay mana arts.
That alone was a huge advantage—one I could exploit. As long as we didn't engage him directly, we could win.