The atmosphere shifted as Graham's attention fixed on Vel. From the corner of his eye, Vel caught Von and Lady Halen watching intently from their position at the courtyard's edge. Lady Halen's fingers tapped against her arm - she'd shown clear interest during Celia's display, but now her full attention bore down on him with calculating precision.
Vel's throat tightened. He'd been so focused on Celia's performance that he'd nearly forgotten his own stakes in this test. Even Celia, who regularly bested him in their practice matches, had struggled against Graham. The Vice Headmaster's casual stance betrayed years of combat experience that Vel couldn't hope to match with basic sword techniques alone.
His mind raced through possibilities. Raw skill wouldn't be enough - he needed every advantage he could scrape together. Strategy, technique, even misdirection might give him an edge. But what combination would work against someone of Graham's caliber?
"Pick a weapon," Graham's voice cut through Vel's thoughts.
Vel approached the weapon rack with measured steps. His fingers brushed past shorter blades until they found a wooden longsword - similar to the one he'd practiced with under Von's guidance. The familiar weight settled into his palms as he gripped it with both hands.
He glanced toward Von, seeking any hint of guidance. His father responded with a single, firm nod that carried all their hours of training within it.
Taking position across from Graham, Vel widened his stance and raised the practice sword. He held it high and angled outward, just as Von had drilled into him countless times. Each breath steadied his grip as he recalled every lesson, every correction, every piece of wisdom his father had shared.
Graham shifted his weight, assuming the same stance he'd used against Celia. His practice sword angled low behind his legs, grip loose yet purposeful. The casual posture masked the deadly precision Vel had witnessed minutes ago.
"Let's see if you have anything close to your friend over there." Graham's lips curved into a challenging smile. "Your move, boy."
Vel's mind churned through possibilities. Against someone of Graham's caliber, standard attacks would be pointless - the man had likely seen every basic combination imaginable. One wrong move, one moment of hesitation, and Graham would seize control. The fight would end before it began.
This wasn't just about crossing swords. It was a game of positioning, timing, and most importantly - control. Vel couldn't afford to let Graham dictate the pace. Unlike Celia who fought on instinct and raw talent, he needed calculated precision.
Thoughts crystallized into strategy as Vel analyzed Graham's stance. The Vice Headmaster's relaxed posture suggested confidence, perhaps even a hint of underestimation. That could be leveraged. The low sword position meant Graham would need to raise his guard before countering - a fraction of a second delay Vel might exploit.
But first, he had to control the engagement range. Too close would give Graham's experience the advantage. Too far would let him read and react to any approach. Vel needed to find that perfect distance where his youth and smaller frame might work in his favor.
His grip tightened on the practice sword as pieces of his strategy clicked into place. Like a chess match, he'd need to think several moves ahead while being ready to adapt when Graham inevitably disrupted his plans.
Vel inched forward, wooden sword held high. His muscles tensed as he closed the distance, watching Graham's every subtle movement. The practice blade whistled through the air in a deliberate overhead strike - not meant to hit, just to gauge Graham's reaction.
Graham didn't move. The Vice Headmaster's practice sword remained angled low, his posture unchanged. Only his eyes tracked Vel's movement with predatory focus.
"If your movement's that easy to read, make sure it holds power," Graham's voice carried across the courtyard. "A kid would easily dodge that."
Heat crept up Vel's neck. The critique stung, but Graham was right. His test strike might as well have announced its intentions with trumpets and banners. Even if he'd moved faster, Graham would have effortlessly blocked or countered. The man's experience rendered basic attacks useless.
Vel retreated two steps, mind racing for a new approach. Direct strikes wouldn't work. Neither would standard combinations Von had taught him. Graham had likely seen them all countless times before, performed by warriors far more skilled than Vel.
His grip shifted on the practice sword as frustration mounted. Speed alone wouldn't be enough. Power wouldn't suffice either. He needed something unexpected, something that would force Graham to react rather than control the flow of combat. But what?
A flash of inspiration struck Vel as he studied Graham's stance. Deception might work where direct force couldn't. Graham's experience meant he'd recognize standard attacks instantly - but what about a carefully crafted feint?
Vel stepped forward, angling his practice sword for what appeared to be a straightforward thrust at Graham's midsection. His muscles tensed, selling the deception as he gathered his weight on his back foot.
"Hyaah!" Vel's shout echoed across the courtyard as he committed to the apparent thrust. Graham's eyes tracked the incoming blade, exactly as planned.
Vel's heart hammered against his ribs as he abruptly changed direction, swinging the practice sword up toward Graham's shoulder instead. The wooden blade cut through air as Graham moved to block the obvious attack.
But one layer of deception wouldn't be enough against someone of Graham's caliber. As Graham's practice sword rose to intercept the downward strike, Vel pulled back at the last instant. The momentum of his swing transformed into a lightning-fast thrust aimed at Graham's now-exposed guard.
Graham's footwork shifted subtly, his stance adjusting before Vel's thrust was even complete. Those experienced eyes had already read through both layers of deception.
"Clever," Graham's quiet acknowledgment carried across the space between them.
Sweat trickled down Vel's neck as Graham's taunt rang across the courtyard. "Is that all you've got?"
Vel's muscles burned, but he refused to let exhaustion show. He darted forward, unleashing a combination. His wooden sword whirled in tight arcs, each strike flowing into the next as he pressed his attack.
Graham's casual stance vanished. The Vice Headmaster glided backward, his movements so smooth he seemed to float across the stones. Vel's carefully planned sequence might as well have been slashing at smoke.
A subtle shift in Graham's weight sent warning signals screaming through Vel's mind. The man's center dropped lower, his practice sword rising as he pivoted on his front foot.
"Watch your stance!"
The warning came too late. Graham's wooden blade whistled downward, faster than Vel's eyes could track. Pure instinct drove his arms up, catching the strike on his raised guard.
Impact rattled through Vel's bones. His knees buckled under Graham's overwhelming strength. Only desperate determination kept him from collapsing completely as he fought to maintain his footing.
A knowing smirk crossed Graham's face. "You've got spirit," he acknowledged, never breaking rhythm as his assault continued.
Vel backpedaled, his arms trembling as he pushed against Graham's overwhelming pressure. The wooden sword felt heavier with each passing second. He needed space - time to think, to breathe, to reassess.
His heel caught a groove between stones. Perfect. Vel dropped his shoulder and redirected Graham's force sideways, using the momentum to spring backward. The sudden distance between them gave him precious moments to analyze the situation.
This fight was nothing like Graham's match with Celia. Where she had relied on raw speed and instinct, trading blow for blow in an explosive display, Vel's encounter felt more like an intricate dance. Each movement calculated, each step measured. His mind raced through possibilities, planning three, four moves ahead while accounting for Graham's potential responses.
But something gnawed at the edges of his concentration. The weight of this test pressed down harder than Graham's strikes. Lady Halen's scholarship hung in the balance. His chance at the Academy - at real progress - teetered on the outcome of this match. Von's faith in him...
A flicker of movement snapped Vel from his thoughts. Graham's stance shifted, weight transferring to his front foot. The defensive shell cracked open as the Vice Headmaster surged forward, practice sword cutting upward in a vicious arc.
Vel's eyes widened. He'd been too caught up in his head again, let his guard slip for crucial seconds. Now Graham pressed the advantage, forcing Vel to scramble backward as wooden blades whistled past his guard.
"Focus, boy!" Graham's voice cut through the chaos. "Your mind's elsewhere!"
He was right. Vel had let his fears overwhelm him, forgotten the immediate threat in favor of future worries. Now Graham's offensive pushed him further back, each strike threatening to break through his hastily raised defenses.
Vel's arms trembled from the force of Graham's strikes. Each block sent shockwaves through his bones, yet the Vice Headmaster hadn't even shown his true speed. This was pure, raw power - and Graham wielded it with casual precision.
If Graham unleashed the same lightning-quick movements he'd used against Celia, Vel wouldn't stand a chance. His mind raced through scenarios, each ending with his guard shattered, his defense broken. He needed a solution - both to penetrate Graham's iron defense and to counter that devastating speed if it emerged.
"Still thinking too much," Graham's practice sword punctuated his words with another bone-jarring strike.
The words stung deeper than the impact. All his talk about moving forward, about proving himself worthy of this world - it meant nothing if he couldn't back it up here and now. The Academy, his future, everything hinged on this moment.
A wild thought struck through his tactical planning - what if he abandoned structure entirely? Create chaos, force Graham to react to unpredictability rather than calculated strikes.
Vel sucked in a sharp breath and launched himself forward. His wooden sword became a blur of motion, striking high, low, thrusting, slashing - each attack flowing into the next without pattern or pause. He poured everything into this frenzied assault, letting instinct guide his blade where strategy had failed.
Graham met every strike with perfect timing, his defense an impenetrable wall. Yet Vel pressed on, studying each response, noting how Graham shifted his weight, adjusted his grip, maintained his balance. Every clash of wood revealed another detail about the warrior's positioning.
Sweat dripped into Vel's eyes as time seemed to stretch. His arms burned, his breath came in ragged gasps, but still he couldn't land a single hit. Against such masterful defense, could he even score one clean strike? Doubt crept in as his frenzied assault began to slow.
Vel's arms trembled, but a new strategy crystallized in his mind. Direct assault hadn't worked. Neither had calculated combinations. But what if he turned his weakness into strength?
His grip loosened deliberately on the practice sword, creating an obvious opening in his stance. The wooden blade dipped slightly lower than proper form demanded.
"Getting tired?" Graham called, tracking his movement.
Vel answered with a series of controlled strikes, each one carefully flawed. A guard held too high here, a step too wide there - subtle invitations for Graham to exploit.
Graham's attacks grew more precise, probing the gaps in Vel's defense. His wooden sword darted forward with surgical accuracy, testing each apparent weakness.
"Your grip is slipping," Graham said as their blades met again.
Sweat rolled down Vel's back as he maintained the illusion of fatigue. The balance was delicate - appear vulnerable enough to draw Graham in, yet cautious enough to avoid immediate defeat.
Their practice swords clashed rhythmically as Vel sustained his performance. With each exchange, Graham's strikes grew bolder, more committed to exploiting the openings Vel presented.
Perfect. Graham's focus had shifted to the false weaknesses, while Vel waited patiently. Just a little longer...
The moment arrived as Graham committed to an overhead strike. Time seemed to slow as the wooden sword descended.
Instead of raising his guard, Vel stepped inside Graham's range. The Vice Headmaster's eyes widened slightly - caught mid-swing, his stance momentarily compromised.
In that split second, Vel slashed diagonally upward, channeling every ounce of strength into one decisive strike.
"Got you!" he cried.
For a heartbeat, Vel saw his blade closing in. Victory seemed within reach as his practice sword cut through the air toward Graham's exposed side. Time stretched, his muscles burned with effort, yet something felt wrong.
Graham's form blurred, becoming a hazy outline. Vel blinked, wondering if exhaustion had finally clouded his vision. His wooden sword sliced through empty space where Graham had stood a fraction of a second ago.
"Almost," Graham's voice came from a leap away, accompanied by a knowing smirk that sent chills down Vel's spine.
Vel's arms dropped, his practice sword hanging limply at his side. The weight of failure crushed down on his shoulders as reality sank in. Every strategy, every calculated move, every desperate gambit - none of it had mattered. Graham had read through them all, dancing just beyond his reach like a mirage in the desert.
His chest heaved with ragged breaths as despair clawed at his heart. There was nothing left. No clever tactics, no hidden strengths to draw upon. He'd thrown everything he had at Graham and barely managed to graze the air where the man had stood.
"If you've given up, then let me finish this." Graham's boots scraped against stone as he advanced, each step measured and deliberate.
Vel's arms trembled as Graham approached, each step echoing like thunder across the courtyard. Logic screamed the truth he'd been avoiding - this fight had been decided before it began. Graham's decades of experience against his few months of training? The math was brutal, inevitable.
His grip loosened on the practice sword. What was the point of continuing? He'd thrown everything he had at Graham and achieved nothing. His best combinations, his cleverest strategies, all brushed aside like leaves in the wind.
"Don't give up, Vel!" Celia's voice pierced through his spiral of defeat.
The shout jolted him back to reality. His eyes darted to the sidelines where Celia watched, her face tight with concern. Beyond her stood Von, his expression steady with unwavering faith. Landre would never forgive him if he returned home having given anything less than everything he had.
Everything he had...
The thought stuck like honey to his mind. His best weapon wasn't the wooden sword in his trembling hands. It wasn't his speed or his strength or even his practiced combinations. His true strength lay in his mind - the one area where Graham couldn't possibly know what he faced.
If pure logic had failed him, perhaps it was time to embrace the next best thing.
Graham's practice sword whistled through the air in what was clearly meant to be the finishing blow.
Vel blocked the attack from Graham with a grin, the sudden shift in his expression catching the seasoned warrior off guard. For a fleeting moment, surprise flickered in Graham's eyes as Vel pushed back against the force of the strike.
With a quick step back, Vel created distance between them, his heart racing with adrenaline.
If it's not now, then it's never. The thought surged through him, igniting his resolve. He couldn't hide anymore; this was his moment to prove himself.
Vel charged forward, determination fueling his movements as he gripped the sword tightly in one hand. With his other arm extended toward Graham's leg, he summoned the magic swirling within him—a manifestation of pure intent.
A soft glow began to emanate from his outstretched hand, radiating warmth as the magic took shape. The energy coursed through him, awakening a sense of power that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.
Graham's brow furrowed as he sensed the shift in Vel's stance, but before he could react, Vel unleashed a spell—a flicker of light spiraling forth like an arrow aimed directly at its target.
"What—" Graham started to say, but Vel's charge cut through any uncertainty.
The Light Arrow spell burst forth, its radiance cutting through the air with precision. Vel had spent last hours perfecting this variant, combining the penetrating force of Ice Lance with Light's amplifying properties. While it wouldn't seriously harm Graham, the impact would certainly leave a mark.
Graham twisted away from the spell's path, but the arrow of light grazed his leg. His eyes widened in recognition—this was no ordinary combat move.
Vel pressed his advantage, charging in with his wooden sword raised. The moment Graham shifted his weight to counter, Vel sprang backward, his lips already forming the words of another incantation.
"Luxetahn Solis!"
Another arrow manifested, forcing Graham to dodge once more. Vel maintained this rhythm—strike, retreat, cast—never allowing Graham time to process or adapt to this unconventional strategy. Each spell kept the warrior at bay, while quick sword strikes prevented him from closing the distance.
Sweat beaded on Vel's forehead as he danced between blade and magic. The drain on his mana felt significant, but manageable. He couldn't afford to slow down now.
Through the intensity of combat, Vel caught glimpses of the spectators. Von's face had transformed into an expression of pure astonishment, his usual stern demeanor completely shattered. Even Lady Halen stood rigid, her composed façade cracking as she watched magic weave between sword strikes.
But Vel couldn't dwell on their reactions. Graham was already adjusting to his pattern, those experienced eyes tracking every movement with growing understanding. Vel had to keep pushing, had to maintain this delicate balance of sword and spell before Graham found a way to counter it.
Vel felt the strain of mana depleting within him, the exhilaration of casting magic now tinged with urgency. He needed to end this duel, and quickly. Graham's movements became increasingly fluid, a testament to his experience as he dodged and parried each of Vel's magical strikes.
Think, Vel! he urged himself. What could he do to keep Graham in place?
His thoughts raced back to the principles he had learned: combining elements for a new spell. He focused on Ice for its binding properties, infused with the slowing effect from Slow Heal, and added in the focal aspect from Far Sight.
With determination, Vel summoned every ounce of remaining mana and wove together the sigils in his mind.
"Glacis Solith Feryis!"
A swirling aura enveloped his hand as he pointed at Graham's legs. A jagged ice formation erupted from the ground, spreading outward like an eager vine toward its target. The icy surface formed beneath Graham's feet, latching onto him with an unforgiving grip.
Graham's eyes widened as he attempted to shift his weight but found himself stuck. Vel felt a surge of triumph—this was it!
This is my chance, he thought, charging forward with renewed vigor, sword raised high for a finishing blow.
But then the air shifted around them. Something changed in Graham's demeanor; the playful taunts were replaced by an intense focus. He shifted into a defensive stance that sent a shiver down Vel's spine.
The warrior's hands shifted on his sword, drawing it back in a stance Vel had never seen before. His body coiled like a spring, ready to unleash something devastating.
Thunderc—
Before Graham could finish whatever powerful move was about to erupt from him, a voice cut through the tension like a knife.
"ENOUGH!" Lady Halen's voice cut through the air like a whip.
Graham froze mid-motion, the charged atmosphere dissipating instantly at her command. Vel stumbled to a halt, his sword still raised, heart pounding in his chest as he processed how close he'd come to witnessing whatever technique Graham had been about to unleash.
Vel's heart raced as he watched Von leap into the arena, fury etched across his father's face. The protective instinct radiated from him, like a guardian ready to shield his young.
"What in the gods' name were you thinking?" Von's voice thundered, eyes locked onto Graham with a fierce intensity.
Graham resumed his forceful smile, an air of nonchalance returning as if the tension from moments before had simply evaporated. "Relax, I wasn't going to aim at him. Just trying to scare him into place."
Vel shifted uneasily, caught between the two powerful figures. The clash of wills made his pulse quicken; he felt small under the weight of their gazes.
Lady Halen stepped into the arena slowly, her expression contemplative as she took in the scene. Questions swirled behind her calm facade, searching for answers hidden within the tension that lingered thick in the air.
Graham noticed her arrival and attempted to cover for his earlier loss of composure. "Every fighting style has its weaknesses," he said with forced ease, his voice attempting to regain some semblance of authority. "I was just about to demonstrate how pressure can reveal them."
Vel could see through Graham's facade, noting how even the seasoned warrior struggled to mask his earlier slip-up. The atmosphere felt charged with unspoken thoughts and unshed tension.
"Demonstrate?" Lady Halen echoed, her brows furrowing slightly as she regarded Graham with an unwavering gaze.
Vel stood at the edge of the arena, heart racing as the atmosphere thickened with tension. Lady Halen's arrival had shifted everything, and Vel felt the weight of unspoken questions hanging in the air. He glanced at Graham, who was still recovering from the sudden turn of events.
"If I'm going to learn," Vel thought, taking a deep breath, "I guess I need every lesson there is."
He stepped forward, trying to ease the pressure that had built between Graham and his father.
"It was a good demonstration, really," Vel said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Graham was just showing how important it is to adapt and react quickly in combat. That's something we all need to remember."
Celia stood off to the side, her eyes wide with disbelief. She shifted slightly but seemed frozen in place, unsure how to process what had just unfolded.
Graham looked at Vel with a flicker of gratitude, but before he could respond, Von's gaze snapped onto Vel with an intensity that made him swallow hard. It felt like being pinned under a weighty boulder.
"Since when?" Von asked, his voice low but edged with concern. "When did you learn to use magic?"
Vel scratched the back of his head awkwardly as he searched for an answer. His mind raced back to that moment in the Ossuary—after everything that had happened while he was unconscious.
"Um... since... the Ossuary," he stammered out finally, feeling a rush of embarrassment flush through him.
Von's question hung in the air, and Vel noticed familiar expressions of shock and disbelief mirroring across their faces—the same looks Celia had given him when he first revealed his abilities to her.
Lady Halen stepped forward, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. "That's impossible. Magic requires attunement or sorcerer bloodline. No one can simply... acquire it."
Von crossed his arms, his stance rigid with concern. "And I know for certain neither Mari nor I carry sorcerer blood. This doesn't make sense."
Vel shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny, remembering the explanation he'd given Celia. "I think... something happened in the Ossuary. The energy down there, what Trinon did—I almost died. Maybe that changed something in me."
Lady Halen's expression softened with understanding. "The Ossuary... yes, that could explain it." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Such places often hold residual magical energy. What you experienced might have acted as an attunement test of sorts. Near-death experiences have been known to unlock latent abilities."
The tension in Von's shoulders eased slightly at her words, though concern still lingered in his eyes.
Lady Halen waved her hand dismissively. "We can discuss this matter another time. For now..." She turned toward Graham, her gaze sharp and expectant. "I believe we have more pressing matters to address. The test results?"
All eyes turned to Graham, waiting for his verdict on Vel's performance. The earlier chaos of their duel faded into the background as they awaited the true purpose of this gathering.
Vel stood in the arena, heart racing as Graham's words settled over him like a warm blanket. The tension in the air shifted, and he could almost feel the crowd's anticipation pressing against his back.
"Well, do I even have to say it?" Graham announced, his tone returning to its usual confidence. "The boy forced something out of me. He definitely has something to hold on his own."
Vel felt a swell of pride wash over him, yet he kept his expression steady. He stole a glance at Celia, who looked pale and shaken by her earlier sparring session. Her shoulders slumped as she processed Graham's words.
Graham's gaze shifted to Celia, and Vel braced himself for what came next.
"For Celia, however," Graham continued, "you need more practice. I know some noble kids who could fight you in equal measure right now."
A heavy silence fell around them. Vel felt a pang of sympathy for Celia; he knew how hard she had trained and how much she wanted to succeed.
Von stepped forward, unable to hide his happiness for Vel any longer. "I'm proud of you, son," he said, his voice warm and encouraging.
But then something flickered in Von's eyes—a memory perhaps—causing the smile to pull back slightly as reality sank in.
Celia's disappointment was palpable; Vel could see her hands trembling as she fought against her emotions. She turned away slightly, unwilling to let them see her face.
"But," Graham said, cutting through the tension with an unexpected note of encouragement, "Celia has shown potential." He paused before adding, "You need to continue on this path. Every fighter faces setback."
Celia's head snapped up at those words, hope flickering momentarily in her eyes before Graham continued.
"You see," he said with a hint of seriousness that drew everyone's attention again. "I was the one who assigned Clara the quest to close the portal near Oakhaven." His voice softened slightly as he mentioned Clara's name. "Now that the portal is closed—and she's…nowhere to be found "
Vel's stomach twisted at the mention of Clara; he felt a rush of guilt wash over him.
"So…" Graham declared with fresh determination, "I remain in Clara's debt." His eyes drifted back to Celia. "Should you choose to pursue your studies at the academy, you'll have the full backing of myself and the guild. Think of it as our thanks for what she accomplished."
Vel watched as Celia's expression shifted, hope igniting in her eyes. Her shoulders squared, a spark of determination illuminating her features. The weight of Graham's words hung in the air, filling the space between them with possibility.
He stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"You did great out there, Celia. You've got what it takes," he said, warmth spilling into his voice.
Celia turned to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I want to get stronger, Vel. I want to fight beside you at the Academy." Her voice trembled slightly, but beneath that uncertainty lay an unyielding resolve. "And Clara... she always believed in me."
Vel nodded, feeling the weight of their shared dreams pressing down on them both. Clara's absence was a shadow that lingered, but in that moment, he felt as if they could carry her spirit with them.
A brief silence enveloped them as emotions swirled in Celia's gaze—fear, hope, and an unshakeable belief in what they could achieve together.
Lady Halen broke the moment with her authoritative tone cutting through the tension. "Well then," she began, her eyes surveying both Vel and Celia thoughtfully. "We will close our deal today."
Vel's heart raced at her words; this was the opportunity he had yearned for.
Halen continued, "For years from now, Vel will have my scholarship to the Academy." She fixed him with a firm look that made him feel both proud and apprehensive. "But don't you dare change your mind by then."
Vel exchanged glances with Celia; they both understood the significance of this moment. It was more than just an opportunity—it was their chance to forge their paths together amid the chaos that had defined their lives.
He squeezed Celia's shoulder gently, silently assuring her that they would navigate whatever challenges lay ahead side by side.
Lady Halen's presence loomed larger than life as she looked between them once more. The stakes felt high; Vel could sense destiny pulling them forward into something greater than themselves.
The arena buzzed around them with whispers and excitement as spectators began to digest the implications of this agreement. A new chapter awaited both of them—one filled with promise and potential—and Vel felt an undeniable thrill surging through him at what lay ahead.
Vel sat at the dining table, watching Mari bustle around their small kitchen with renewed energy. The aroma of her cooking filled their home, making his stomach growl in anticipation. The weight of hiding his abilities had lifted, leaving him feeling lighter than he had in weeks.
"I still can't believe you've been practicing magic all this time," Mari said, stirring a pot of soup. Her voice carried a mix of wonder and concern. "You should have told us sooner."
Landre, setting plates on the table, gave him a knowing look. "I had my suspicions. Ever since that incident."
"You knew?" Vel asked, surprised by his sister's perception.
"Not exactly," Landre replied, adjusting her initiate robes. "But I felt something different about your presence after... that night at the Ossuary."
Celia sat beside Vel, her eyes bright with excitement. "Now I understand why you were always so confident about the Academy."
Mari brought over a steaming dish of roasted vegetables and meat. "Well, what matters is that we know now. Though I wish you hadn't kept it secret for so long."
"Sorry, Mom," Vel said, feeling a twinge of guilt. "I wasn't sure how to explain it."
"At least we can properly celebrate now," Landre said, her smile genuine. "Both our achievements - your scholarship and my consecration."
Mari nodded in agreement, finally sitting down with them. "And Celia's opportunity too. It feels right having you here with us."
Celia blushed slightly at the inclusion. "Thank you for having me."
"What about me?" Von crossed his arms, feigning hurt. "Am I not worthy of celebration too? I did negotiate that scholarship after all."
Vel couldn't help but grin at his father's theatrical display. The warmth of seeing his family whole and together, sharing a meal and light conversation, filled his chest with contentment.
"Of course, Dad," Landre said, pulling out the chair next to her. "We saved you the best portion."
"Oh? Now that's what I like to hear." Von's frown melted into a smile as he settled into his seat. "Though I must say, finding out my son's been practicing magic behind my back..." He gave Vel a pointed look, though his eyes sparkled with amusement rather than reproach.
"Sorry," Vel ducked his head, though he knew his father wasn't truly upset. "I wanted to make sure I could control it first."
"Hmph. Well, at least now I know why you've been sneaking off to 'practice sword forms' so often." Von reached for the bread. "Next time, just tell your old man. I may not know magic, but I know a thing or two about discipline and training."
The warmth of family and acceptance wrapped around them as they shared the meal, talking and laughing freely about their future at the Academy. For the first time since arriving in this world, Vel felt truly at home, no longer carrying the burden of his secret.
Vel gazed at his family around the table, their voices fading into background as his mind drifted to that first moment - waking up confused in a child's body, in a world he'd created but barely recognized. The fear, the uncertainty of those early days in Oakhaven felt distant now, like a half-remembered dream.
He'd struggled then, fumbling through basic interactions while trying to piece together what had happened. The transfer into young Vel's body remained a mystery, along with the disappearance of the Primordials and that terrifying phenomenon known as The Void. His creation had evolved far beyond his original design, taking on a life of its own.
The Academy held promise - centuries of accumulated knowledge about magic, history, and the world's mysteries. Perhaps there he'd find answers about the Primordials' fate, understand why he'd been brought here, and learn the true nature of The Void.
Mari's gentle touch on his arm pulled him back to the present. "You're quiet, Vel. Is everything alright?"
"Just thinking about how far we've come," he replied, offering a smile.
His gaze fell to his hands - small but growing stronger each day. He had a plan now. The daily sword practice with Celia would build his physical strength, while secret magic training would expand his mana pool. Each spell cast, each sword form practiced brought him closer to his goal.
Not for glory or power, but for them - Mari's kind eyes, Von's proud smile, Landre's determined spirit, and Celia's unwavering friendship. His family. His reason to grow stronger.
"To the Academy," Celia raised her cup, eyes bright with determination.
"To the Academy," Vel echoed, pushing aside thoughts of cosmic mysteries for now. Tonight was for celebration, for family, for this moment of peace before the real work began.
[Epilogue]
Vel sat at his window, unable to find rest despite the late hour. The celebration's warmth lingered, but something kept his mind racing. Moonlight painted silver streaks across Elnor's empty streets, the town peaceful in its slumber.
A chill crept up his spine.
The air shifted, growing thick and heavy. His interface flickered with warnings he'd never seen before, status indicators flashing red then vanishing completely.
Beyond the glass, darkness gathered and coalesced. Not the natural shadows of night, but something that moved with purpose, its edges bleeding into reality like ink in water. The form twisted and writhed, refusing to settle into any recognizable shape.
Vel's breath caught in his throat. His fingers trembled as they gripped the windowsill, every instinct screaming at him to run. But his body remained frozen, trapped in the presence of something that shouldn't exist.
Then it spoke, its voice resonating not through the air but directly in his mind, each word carving itself into his thoughts:
"You have taken from the board what was meant to move in silence."
"And now, you stand in where unseen eyes watch."
"The pieces shift, but the game does not stop."
"Should you place yourself in our path again, know this—"
"What waits beyond the veil is not meant to step into the world."
"But if you insist, be ready to face the consequences"
The words carried weight beyond their meaning, each syllable heavy with ancient power and threat. Vel's mana instinctively recoiled, shrinking away from whatever force commanded this presence.
.
.
.
.
[Notice: New Data Pending]
End of Volume 1