A Blade's Distance
The mood in the Headmaster's office was grim.
Maxarion Vel Zephyryx — the Dragon Emperor and Headmaster of Erinoguard — sat behind his obsidian-draped desk, claws tapping lightly on the surface. A shimmering panel floated before him, showing the damage caused in Artifact Lab #2. The reports didn't lie: three students injured, prototype mana cores destroyed, and glyph logs pointing straight to Nyx Akers.
The mood turned darker.
"Attempted murder," he said flatly. "This is no prank. Expel him."
His voice echoed like a war drum.
Near the window, Varek Kaelthorn — the Academy's peak Rank 8 Weapon Instructor — stood silently, arms crossed. He didn't respond, but the slight downturn of his eyes spoke volumes. His student… had fallen.
As he turned to leave, he muttered under his breath, "What have you done, Nyx…"
But before he could reach the door, a knock interrupted the silence.
Knock. Knock.
A pulse of mana followed. Calm. Focused. Refined.
Maxarion's golden eyes narrowed. "Valerian…"
The door opened smoothly, and in stepped Arthur Valerian — the Yearlord, dressed in his signature black uniform traced with gold. His expression was composed, not a trace of panic or concern on his face.
"May I enter?" he asked politely.
"…Come in," the Headmaster replied, his voice low.
Arthur walked forward with slow, confident steps, a sealed crystal orb floating behind him.
"I apologize for intruding, but I have come regarding the Artifact sabotage case," Arthur said.
Maxarion's brows furrowed. "Speak."
Arthur lifted the orb. A flicker of silver light projected above the desk — a recorded reconstruction of the moment the Artifact Lab core overloaded.
In the illusion, a shimmering image showed students working, and in one corner, a mana flicker occurred before Nyx even entered the lab. A corrupted glyph pattern could be seen forming on its own from pre-damaged runes — unstable from the start.
"I had my personal monitoring system running," Arthur explained smoothly. "As Yearlord, I monitor high-risk areas and training labs using Valerian-grade surveillance wards. This is a temporal reconstruction of Artifact Lab #2, twenty-three minutes before the explosion. As you can see… the ward was tampered with long before Nyx Akers ever arrived."
He gestured slightly, and the next image paused on Nyx — entering the room after the corrupted core had already begun to fail.
Maxarion leaned forward, eyes scanning the projection with cold precision.
"You're claiming the glyph signature was residual… not authored by him?"
"Exactly," Arthur nodded. "The corrupted pattern mimicked his mana trace through indirect contamination — a false positive. I've also brought a purity analysis. There's a clear mismatch between the active sabotage sequence and Nyx's personal spellcasting frequency."
He held out a second file. One sealed with the Yearlord's crest.
Even the Headmaster took pause.
"…This is official?"
Arthur nodded. "I take full responsibility for the authenticity of this data. As Yearlord, I formally request Nyx Akers be declared innocent and cleared of all charges."
A long silence followed.
The Headmaster reviewed the data quickly, yet thoroughly. Then, slowly, he closed the projection.
"I will issue a public retraction," he said at last. "If the evidence holds… then Nyx Akers is not guilty."
Arthur bowed slightly. "Thank you, Headmaster."
⸻
Later That Day
The news spread like wildfire.
"BREAKING: Nyx Akers Cleared of Artifact Sabotage — Yearlord Valerian Provides Evidence"
Some students refused to believe it. Others argued in forums. But the fact remained: the evidence had come from Arthur Valerian himself. His word carried weight — and authority.
The Student Council, led by Iralyn Veyr, officially stop Nyx's investigation.His name was cleared, though his reputation remained scarred.
And somewhere, in the shadowed corridors of the academy, Arthur stood quietly by a window, watching as Nyx's file updated on a nearby crystal terminal.
Behind him, Elaris whispered:
"So you chose to save him after all."
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, the city lights glinting in his gaze.
"…If I offer him my hand now, he'll take it. He's ready to become my sword."
—————————-
The sky beyond the enchanted glass shimmered with twilight hues, Arcadia's floating spires casting long shadows over drifting clouds. Inside the vast observatory, silence reigned — broken only by the soft clink of a teacup being set down.
Maxarion Vel Zephyryx, the Dragon Emperor and Headmaster of Erinoguard, stood by the grand window, arms behind his back, his golden eyes narrowed in thought.
Behind him, the Vice Headmaster — a towering beastkin with ocean-blue eyes and dark markings across his skin — leaned against a marble column. His presence was imposing even in stillness. The world knew him as Spear Lord Varnyx, a Rank 9 warrior who could split sea and sky with a single throw.
"…You let him do it," Varnyx said at last, his voice a deep rumble, low and calm.
Maxarion didn't turn around.
"I did."
"That boy manipulated student council, faked glyph records, and nearly let a student get expelled for sabotage," Varnyx said, arms crossed. "And you—watched."
"I observed," Maxarion corrected. "Carefully."
Varnyx clicked his tongue. "And if he failed?"
"Then he would have never been worthy of Solan's interest," Maxarion said. "But he didn't fail."
He finally turned, golden robes rustling softly.
"Arthur not only manipulated the situation… he cleaned it up. He shielded Nyx at the last second, presented falsified evidence as truth, and ensured the academy accepted it — all while retaining his spotless image as Yearlord."
"He's dangerous," Varnyx muttered.
"He's necessary," Maxarion replied. "Solan likes him more than his own son, you know."
Varnyx grunted. "Solan likes results. He doesn't play favorites."
Maxarion offered a rare smile. "Perhaps. But if that boy can take a cursed blade and turn it into a weapon worthy of kings… then he's more than a schemer. He's a crafter of legends."
Varnyx's eyes narrowed. "Or a tyrant in the making."
"Perhaps both."
The Headmaster walked to the sideboard and poured another cup of steaming leaf-brew. The scent of dragonrose and soulroot filled the room.
"I won't intervene. Not yet," Maxarion said. "I want to see if he can truly lift Nyx from ruin. If that boy remains broken… then he'll remain useless. A cursed sword dulls the moment it's needed."
"And if Arthur breaks him further?"
"Then he was never worth forging."
Varnyx was silent for a moment. The Spear Lord's eyes flicked up toward the sky, watching mana lights flicker over distant towers.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Maxarion."
Maxarion raised his cup, eyes gleaming.
"No, old friend… he is."
The room fell into a momentary silence again, broken only by the soft clatter of wind chimes hanging at the far end of the glass dome. The aura between the two Rank 9s shifted — from observation to contemplation.
Maxarion set down his cup and let out a deep breath, his voice casual but purposeful.
"…I've made my choice."
Varnyx tilted his head slightly.
"For what?"
"My successor," Maxarion replied. "The next bearer of the Arcane Throne at Erinoguard — I've chosen the Feldine boy."
"Feldine Sagnius?" Varnyx's brow rose. "The one with the Crown Glyph and aberrant spell sequences?"
"The same," Maxarion confirmed. "His connection to arcane theory mirrors mine in youth. Unpolished, but… dangerous in its potential. He'll walk my path. I've already begun private sessions."
"Hmph." The Spear Lord crossed his arms again. "I haven't picked mine."
Maxarion smiled faintly. "Still undecided, old friend?"
"I've got my eye on that Reinhart boy," Varnyx admitted. "His form's instinctive — too clean for someone without formal spear training. But from what I've seen… he doesn't need teachers. The boy's a natural predator."
Maxarion gave a slow nod. "And the other one?"
The temperature dipped a little.
Varnyx frowned. "I'm not saying his name."
"Still bitter about last time?" Maxarion chuckled.
"…I don't like the way he smiles," the Vice Headmaster muttered.
"Just say it."
"Nope."
Maxarion sighed and turned away. "The world calls him the Fist Lord. Strongest combatant to rise without weapon or magic. Demon race prodigy. Infamous for brawling with dragons barehanded."
Varnyx grumbled. "He said he'd take that Saryn Bhumari kid as a successor."
Maxarion raised an eyebrow. ". He want to anger the Bhumari Emperor?"
"He never liked the Fist Lord anyway," Varnyx smirked. "Besides, that Saryn boy's a volcano waiting to erupt. If the Fist Lord can channel him… we might witness something terrifying."
Maxarion didn't deny it. "True. There's a frightening balance in that boy — pride and restraint, fury and silence."
A faint magical chime interrupted their thoughts — a message alert from a floating panel.
Maxarion's eyes briefly scanned it. His expression sharpened.
"…Arthur has submitted an official dungeon raid request."
Varnyx blinked. "Already? With who?"
"Five-man team. He didn't list names in the system — just that it's a special permission raid. The location is… the Old Mountain Range Dungeon."
The Spear Lord's gaze darkened. "That's a sealed danger zone."
"I know," Maxarion replied. "The remnants of Divine Essence are still active there. Something from the War Era sleeps beneath."
Varnyx straightened.
"We can't afford to lose a single one of them."
Maxarion nodded.
"Send Varek. Quietly. Have him keep a blade's distance behind them. Don't interfere unless necessary."
Varnyx gave a slow nod, a grin tugging at the edge of his lips. "So now… we watch the Yearlord forge his own champions."
"And perhaps," Maxarion said softly, "his own legend."