Cassian sniffled, her voice shaky as she asked, "Uhhh… may I know who you are?" She hesitated, glancing at the black-haired boy standing beside her hospital bed.
A long, awkward silence stretched between them. His piercing gaze locked onto hers, unreadable.
Just as the tension became unbearable—
"Pff! Hahaha!" The boy suddenly burst into laughter, completely shattering his previously cold demeanor.
"Oh, man! You were so tense! AHAHA!"
Cassian blinked, utterly dumbfounded, Just moments ago, he had looked like a living statue of ice, and now… this?!
Her brows furrowed.
"H-Huh?"
The boy wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still chuckling. Then, with an exasperated sigh, he straightened up and casually introduced himself.
"Haa… Anyway, the name's Harry Link. Student of Class A. Otherworlder. You might've heard of me around the academy."
Cassian's eyes widened in shock.
Harry Link? That Harry Link?
"Wait—" She sat up slightly, ignoring the ache in her body.
"You mean the Harry Link? The president of the Aetherian Directorate?"
Harry smirked, clearly amused by her reaction.
"Oh? So you have heard of me. That's good. I was starting to think my reputation wasn't as grand as I imagined."
Cassian could hardly believe it.
She had just fought the most intense duel of her life, only to wake up to one of the most influential first-years in the entire academy standing next to her bed like it was nothing.
"Cassian Orion Raven. May I call you Cassian? I've always found full names so… burdensome, haven't you? Like wearing armor you never asked for. But then, you know all about armor, don't you? The way it weighs. The way it grinds."
He sat down and brought out a apple, then slices a sliver of apple, offers it to her on the blade's tip.
When she declines, he pops it into his own mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
"Cedric Von Helmut. Third son of the Von Helmuts. A family so steeped in self-importance they'd drown in a puddle. And yet, you fought him. For the Class Presidency, no less. How very… bold of you. Or perhaps desperate?" As Like he Lost in contemplation, he rested their chin in his hand,
"No, no—bold. Boldness suits you. Like that scarlet ribbon you wear in your hair. A splash of defiance in this gray little world."
He sets the apple aside, leaning forward.
The infirmary's flickering lamplight catches the gold in his eyes, turning them molten.
"I watched your duel. From the back row, of course crowds are such tedious things. But you? You were… transcendent. For the first seven minutes, at least. Your bladecraft-gods, Cassian. The way you parried his spell with your sword? Fluid, precise, inspired. You moved like water given purpose. And your mana control! Threading frost through your strikes to slow his reflexes? Sublime."
"...Even the professors held their breath. For those seven minutes, you weren't Cassian of Class D2. You were Cassian Raven, heir to a legacy even the Arthritises couldn't erase."
His voice softens, regretful now, as he traces the edge of her bandages with a fingertip.
She flinches, he withdraws.
"But then… oh, Cassian. Then came the arrogance. The recklessness. You had him. Cedric was flagging his footwork sloppy, his mana reserves draining. All you needed was patience. A simple spell ,A clean, clinical end. But instead…" He sighs, shaking his head like a disappointed tutor.
"You toyed with him. Let him recover. Let him hope. That flashy Blessing combo? Gorgeous, yes ice swirling around you like a lover's embrace but utterly unnecessary. You wanted him humiliated, not defeated."
"You wanted the crowd to see the Von Helmut heir grovel. And so you danced. You preened. You burned your mana like it was cheap wine, all to hear them gasp."
He leans back, fingers steepled, gaze distant. The infirmary's clock ticks louder, each second a hammerstroke.
"And then… the pivot. Minute twelve. Cedric's Jump at you like wolf. You saw it coming I know you did. Your eyes flicked to his lead foot, your mana flared in anticipation. But instead of countering with a spell to get out the vine you tried… what was it? A whisper win? A mid tier spell, no less. Risky, even at full strength it take to much of your time to cast."
"But with your mana already frayed? Reckless. The backlash tore through your channels, didn't it? I could see it from the stands the way your sword arm trembled. The way your breath hitched. And Cedric… Cedric, that mediocre, privileged boy… he smelled it. Like a jackal scenting blood."
He pauses, letting the memory curdle.
Somewhere down the infirmary hall, a healer's laughter rings out, bright and careless
"My dear, even I wouldn't try that without something to protect me on standby. And I've swallowed lightning just to taste the static. You knew Cedric's ego was his weak point. You'd already carved him open, inch by inch. All you had to do was stand back and let him bleed out. "
"But no. You had to try and stamp on his throat. To prove-what, exactly? That you could? That the Raven name still has claws?"
His hand drifts to her wrist, his touch featherlight. His skin is cold, unnaturally so.
"You could've won, Cassian. Should've won. But you let your anger—no, your grief—cloud your judgment. You fought not to claim the Presidency, but to scream at the ghosts of your family. To prove to the Arthritises, to the Cederic Von Helmuts, to yourself, that the Ravens still breathe. And in doing so… you handed Cedric victory on a silver platter."
He lean closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. The air grows colder
"You lost not because Cedric was better. You lost because you wanted him to know he was lesser. And in that moment, Cassian… you became exactly what they say you are. A relic. A ghost swinging a sword at shadows. The Arthritis family adores ghosts. Ghosts don't require cages. They build their own."
He withdraws, rummaging in his coat. When his hand emerges, it holds a small vial of red liquid mana tonic, rare and exorbitantly expensive. He sets it on her bedside table with a soft clink
"I know what they took from you. The Arthritises didn't just crush your family, Cassian they erased them. Burned your estates. Scattered your relics. Rewrote history to paint the Ravens as traitors, fools, failures. They left you in Class D2 a 'charity student'—to rot. To choke on their pity. "
"But you… you're no charity case. I saw your potential in that duel. Not just in your bladecraft, but in your mind. The way you adapted. The way you hungered. You're a storm in a teacup, Cassian. And I… I happen to enjoy storms."
He stands abruptly, pacing the narrow room. His shadow stretches grotesquely on the walls, clawing at the ceiling.
"Let me be candid. The Arthritises are a hydra. Cut off one head, two grow back. Their wealth is a fortress. Their alliances, a labyrinth. To break them, you need more than rage. More than bladecraft. You need patience. Precision. A scalpel, not a sword. And you need resources. Allies who move in shadows. Secrets that unravel empires. The Aetherian Directorate… we specialize in such things."
He stops at the foot of her bed, his gaze piercing. The vial of mana tonic glows faintly between them, a tiny star in the gloom.
"I'll pay your tuition. Your meals. Your life, if necessary. I'll pull you from D2 to Class A not as a charity student, but as a prodigy. And in return? You'll help me dismantle the Arthritises. Not with bladecraft alone, but with strategy. With cunning. You'll learn to weave mana as a poet weaves lies. To turn their own greed against them. To make them kneel in the ashes of everything they cherish."
He leans down, close enough that she can see the flecks of violet in his gold eyes an unnatural hue, glimmering like fractured amethyst.
"But first… you must heal. Not just your body—" he taps the mana tonic
"but your mind. That recklessness? That need to prove yourself? It's a leash the Arthritises handed you. Cut it. Let me teach you control. Let me show you how to wield your grief as a weapon, not a weakness."
From his coat, he withdraws a dagger obsidian hilt, blade etched with runes that drink the light.
He presses it into her palm, folding her fingers around the grip. It thrums with latent power.
"This belonged to Lirael Raven. Your great-grandmother, I believe? The Arthritises stole it after her execution. I retrieved it from their vaults. Consider it a… gesture of goodwill."
He releases her, stepping back. His voice softens, almost tender.
"You don't trust me. Good. Trust is a currency for fools. But you want this. I see it in the set of your jaw. In the way your mana stirs when I speak their name. The Arthritises took your family. Your future. Your name. Let me help you reclaim it. Not as a vengeful ghost, but as a queen. As a Raven."
"The Directorate thrives on duality of light and shadow, strategy and savagery. You'll attend meetings in candlelit chambers beneath the academy. You'll learn to manipulate mana not just as a weapon, but as a language. You'll help me unravel the Arthritises' contracts, forge their downfall, and when the time comes… you'll stand beside me as we reshape this wretched hierarchy."
"Think carefully. You could return to your dorm tonight to the sneers, the struggle, the slow death of hope. Or you could take my hand and ascend. Become more than a survivor. Become a conqueror."
He turns to leave, then pauses at the door, glancing over his shoulder. The infirmary's shadows seem to cling to him, weaving through his hair like smoke.
"Oh, and Cassian? The next time you face someone… don't dance.'Devour.'"
as he went out and walk pass wall, when He was gone the wall broke like it was a illusion.
"interesting..heheh"
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