In the quiet communication room of the Caulem Dukedom manor, Duke Alric Caulem sat alone at the carved wooden desk. Leonhardt's portrait still lingered in his mind, the boy he thought he'd buried now alive, and apparently… different.
Alric's gaze fell on a letter lying before him, sent by the Ironholt guild leader.
Young Lord Leonhardt defeated a B-ranked adventurer barehanded. His grip on the parchment tightened.
The Leonhardt he knew—the timid boy who never fully grew into himself—couldn't have done that. But the Leonhardt who returned? Perhaps.
The rhythmic beeping of the communication machine pulled Alric from his thoughts. He stared at it briefly before activating the device. A flickering projection burst forth, revealing Principal Tavik Veymar, his old professor.
"Professor Veymar," Alric greeted.
"It's been a long time."
"It has indeed, Duke Caulem," Veymar replied, inclining his head respectfully.
Alric leaned forward, wasting no time on formalities. His sharp eyes locked onto Veymar's projection as he asked directly, "Is it true? Has my son returned?"
Veymar hesitated, his face betraying the briefest flicker of discomfort. The pause stretched for a moment before he nodded. "Yes," he said firmly, his tone grave. "Your son has returned to the academy. He is alive..and."
Alric's hands remained flat against the desk, his knuckles white from the pressure. Relief didn't come—not yet. "And?" he pressed, his voice tight but composed. "What aren't you telling me?"
Veymar's brows furrowed slightly, the weight of his next words evident in his expression. "Leonhardt… He's different now," the principal said carefully. "And there's something else."
"What else?" he asked, his tone sharper now.
Veymar exhaled, his voice lowering. "He used the King's Aura."
The room fell silent. For a moment, the duke didn't move, his hands frozen mid-motion. His composed façade cracked as disbelief registered across his features. "The King's Aura?" he repeated.
"That's absurd. Leonhardt never displayed aura abilities—not even the basics. He could barely grasp combat training. And now you're telling me he wielded King's Aura?"
"I felt it myself," Veymar replied, his voice steady but grave. "Very few understand the true power of the King's Aura, but there's no doubt. It was genuine. Whatever your son has become, this ability is now part of him."
Alric leaned back in his chair, the flickering light casting shadows across his strained face. His voice lowered to a murmur, as though speaking to himself. "The King's Aura… It can't be…" He paused before asking hesitantly, "Are we looking at the Ruler's Prophecy?"
Veymar's face shifted, he hesitated before answering cautiously. "The signs align, Duke," he admitted slowly. "But we don't have enough to confirm it yet. If the prophecy is indeed unfolding, then this is only the beginning."
The weight of those words settled over the room like a storm cloud. Alric's breathing quickened as he rubbed his temple, sweat beading along his brow. The implications were impossible to ignore. "If anyone learns of this…" he said quietly, his voice strained. "The royal family—"
"They would see him as a threat," Veymar finished gravely.
Alric clenched his fists, his nails digging into the smooth surface of the desk. The precarious relationship between the Caulem Dukedom and the Elaris royal family had already been hanging by a thread.
News of Leonhardt wielding the King's Aura—an ability tied to power, prophecy, and legacy—would shift that fragile balance into chaos.
Duke exhaled sharply, his gaze lifting to meet Veymar's once more. "I have one request," he said firmly.
Veymar's posture straightened, his attention unwavering. "You want his aura kept secret."
"Yes," Alric replied without hesitation. "No one can know. Not the academy, not the royal court. If word spreads… it will destroy everything."
Veymar nodded solemnly. "Understood. I'll ensure it."
Alric relaxed slightly, though the tension didn't leave his shoulders entirely. "Thank you," he said quietly. With that, he terminated the communication, the projection disappearing into darkness.
For a moment, Alric sat in silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the flickering lantern overhead.
The son he thought he'd buried was now alive. But Leonhardt wasn't the same. And Alric knew better than anyone—change always came with consequences.
"What's happening?"
**********
"What's happening?"
Prince Cassian slammed his fist onto the ornate table, the sharp sound reverberating through the room.
His pacing was erratic, golden eyes burning with frustration. "What the hell was that?" he growled, his voice thick with anger and disbelief.
Darius slumped on the plush couch, staring blankly at the floor. The usual confidence in his posture was gone, replaced by an unsettling stillness.
He hadn't spoken since they returned, his mind locked in the aftermath of what had happened.
Cassian turned on him, his fury bubbling over. "Not only is that bastard alive," he spat, his voice rising, "but he's changed! That worm didn't just look me in the eye—he insulted me. In front of everyone!"
He paced faster, his movements sharp. "This cannot stand, Darius. It will not stand. We have to remind him who's at the top in this academy!"
Still, Darius remained silent. His lack of response only stoked Cassian's anger further. He stormed toward him. "Darius!" he snapped. "Why the hell aren't you saying anything?"
Darius flinched, his hands balling into fists. He inhaled shakily before speaking. "His aura…" he muttered. "It wasn't normal. I've never felt anything like it." He paused, swallowing hard. "It crushed me. I froze."
Cassian stiffened, his fury giving way to disbelief for a fleeting moment. "Crushed?" he repeated, his voice quieter. He grabbed Darius's shoulders and shook him, forcing their eyes to meet. "Get a grip! You're one of the strongest here! You cannot let him intimidate you. Do you hear me? We will not let him win!"
Darius hesitated before nodding faintly. "You're right," he said weakly. "But… what do we do? How do we put him back where he belongs?"
Cassian's lips curled into a cold smirk. His anger morphed into something more calculated. "We remind him of his place," he said firmly. "And we remind everyone else who's in charge."
"What are you suggesting?" Darius asked cautiously.
Cassian's smirk deepened. "We'll let Garik handle it. Tell him his favorite little plaything has grown too bold."
Darius's eyes widened, his unease clear. "Garik? You want to involve him?" The name carried weight. Garik was ruthless, the strongest in the Bronze Section, and Leonhardt's infamous tormentor—all to serve Cassian's whims.
Cassian chuckled darkly, golden eyes gleaming. "Exactly. Garik knows how to deal with Leonhardt. Let's see how brave he really is."
Moments later, the door opened. Cassian's butler entered and bowed deeply. "You called, Your Highness?"
Cassian tapped his fingers on the table, his eyes cold. "Summon Garik Solmire," he ordered sharply.
"As you wish, Master," the butler replied, turning to leave.
"Wait," Cassian said suddenly, his voice steady but laced with intent. The butler turned back. Cassian smirked faintly. "Prepare a letter. It must be delivered discreetly. No one can know."
****************
The morning sky stretched wide, painted in gold and pink as the sun rose over the horizon. Reo sat on the highest roof of the academy, his silhouette outlined against the dawn.
There were no stairs or ladders to this spot—it was a climb of strength and determination, a challenge Reo enjoyed. His chest rose and fell from the effort, the burn in his muscles grounding him.
From this height, the academy below seemed insignificant. Resting his arms on his knees, his red eyes fixed on the rising sun. For the first time in days, there was calm.
"Elynn," he called softly.
A chime echoed in his mind, followed by Elynn's familiar voice.
[Yes, Host?]
Reo smirked faintly. "You know," he said with mock annoyance, "you could at least call me Reo. If you keep saying 'Host,' I might forget my name."
[.....]
A pause.
[...Very well... Reo.]
He chuckled, leaning back against the tiles. "Much better," he muttered. For a while, he simply watched the sun climb higher, bathing the sky in light.
"Do you think it was smart, picking a fight with the academy's golden boy on my first day back?" he asked casually, though a hint of reflection crept into his tone.
[Is it really worth intimidating him?]
Reo's lips curved into a sly smile. "Maybe not," he admitted quietly. "But… it felt like something Leonhardt would've wanted."
[...]
That silence was enough.
Tilting his head back, Reo's smirk faded slightly. "I'm still average here," he said plainly. "Sure, I can bluff with my aura, but in a real fight, I'd lose to Darius."
[Absolutely.] Elynn's sarcastic tone returned.
[You're so impressive. Flexing abilities you can't even sustain? Genius.]
Reo's jaw twitched, his narrowed eyes glaring at the horizon. "Thanks for the support," he muttered irritably, his tone dry. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. I'll lay low for a few days—no point in more attention."
[Finally, strategy—after ensuring the academy is abuzz over your antics.]
He rolled his eyes, waving the comment away. His hand instinctively moved to the locket around his neck, his fingers brushing the smooth wedding ring tied to it. The weight grounded him, reminding him why he was here.
"I'll get stronger," he murmured, his voice soft yet resolute. "Before the calamity comes, I'll be ready. No one will take what matters from me again." His gaze softened, warmth flickering in his crimson eyes.
"And when it's over, I'll live with Chloe. Somewhere far away from this."
The wind carried his words into the morning as the sun climbed higher, its light spilling across the world. For now, he let the peace settle over him, the calm before the inevitable storm.