True to her word, Lortelle Kehelland returned to the Northern Forest just before sunset.
She brought the exact items Ed had demanded: coarse salt, a carbon-steel knife, thick hemp rope, and a wool blanket.
In exchange, Ed tossed her the pristine shadow fox pelts.
Lortelle lingered, trying to engage him in conversation to probe for weaknesses.
Ed gave her nothing but monosyllables, his cold gaze fixed on his work as he upgraded his traps.
Realizing she was talking to a wall of ice, Lortelle left with a satisfied smile.
A purely transactional trust had been born.
The next few days in the forest brought unexpected visitors.
It happened during Ed’s morning physical conditioning.
As he circulated his ki to expand his fragmented mana core, his combat instincts suddenly screamed.
The system didn’t even need to warn him; the air itself felt heavy, suffocating.
It was a mana signature so dense and overwhelming that it reminded King Grey of the most monstrous martial grandmasters he had ever faced in his past life.
He slowly turned his head, his hand resting on the hilt of his knife.
Sleeping on a thick branch of a nearby oak tree was a small girl with white hair and an oversized witch’s hat.
The military veteran in Ed’s mind immediately identified her from his knowledge of the story: Lucy Mayrill.
The absolute calamity of Sylvania.
Meanwhile, the otaku fragment simply categorized her as the classic ‘overpowered sleepy archmage’ trope.
Ed didn’t panic.
He simply picked up a piece of dried meat he had smoked the day before, tossed it onto a rock near the base of her tree, and walked away without making a sound.
You don’t pick a fight with a natural disaster; you just pay the toll and leave.
A few hours later, his peace was interrupted again.
Footsteps approached his camp.
They were hesitant, but definitely not trying to be stealthy.
Ed stepped out of his shelter to see Janica Faelover, the pride of the second-year students.
She was surrounded by her lesser spirits, panting, looking like she was running away from the suffocating expectations of the academy.
When Janica saw Ed—the supposedly disgraced noble—standing there with an intimidating, emotionless aura, she froze.
“You’re stepping on a snare wire,” Ed said flatly.
“And your spirits are disrupting the wind flow.
You’re scaring away my prey.”
Janica jumped back, her face flushing red as her sociable, people-pleasing nature kicked into overdrive.
“A-Ah!
I am so sorry!” Janica exclaimed, waving her hands frantically while her lesser spirits buzzed around her nervously.
“I really didn’t mean to intrude!
I-I can help you fix the trap!
Or maybe my spirits can help you find your prey!
I just needed a place to—”
“I don’t need your help,” Ed cut her off.
His voice wasn’t angry, just completely indifferent.
“Your spirits are loud and your presence is a liability.
If you’re going to hide here, sit on that stump, don’t talk, and don’t touch anything.
Otherwise, leave.”
Janica blinked, completely stunned.
She was used to everyone constantly begging for her help, praising her spirits, or demanding her attention.
Her sociable autopilot suddenly crashed against a brick wall.
His blunt refusal shut down her anxiety.
He didn’t want anything from her.
He didn’t care about her status as a genius.
A strange, massive wave of relief washed over her chest.
She silently nodded, obediently walked over to the wooden stump at the edge of his camp, sat down, and simply breathed in the quiet forest air.
A week later, the academic term officially began.
Ed walked through the corridors of the academy’s main building, wearing the cheapest standard uniform.
Before he could reach the arena for the opening events, a royal knight stepped into his path, silently gesturing toward a secluded balcony overlooking the courtyard.
Ed narrowed his eyes but followed.
Standing alone on the balcony, away from the prying eyes of the nobles, was Princess Penia.
“Ed Rothtaylor,” Penia said, turning to face him.
Her voice lacked its usual public warmth, replaced by a stern, righteous edge.
“I have been reviewing the incident regarding Taylee McLore.
Being evicted from Ophelius Hall is merely a slap on the wrist for attempting to ruin an innocent student’s life.
I intend to submit a formal request to the Dean for your complete expulsion from Sylvania.”
Ed didn’t flinch.
His King Grey persona—a man who had navigated courts far deadlier than this school—took over.
He looked at the Princess, his eyes completely calm, devoid of the fear she expected.
“My father has already formally expelled me from the Rothtaylor family, Your Highness,” Ed stated, his voice low and measured.
“I am legally a disowned commoner with no wealth and no backing.
The matter was closed.”
Penia frowned.
“That does not erase your crime.”
“Perhaps not.
But consider the board you are playing on,” Ed continued, stepping slightly closer, not as a threat, but as an advisor sharing a secret.
“If you use your royal authority to expel a ruined, penniless commoner over a case that has already been judged, it won’t look like justice.
It will look like a petty vendetta.
Conversely, if the other nobles suspect my father still cares for my existence, you risk provoking a Duke for no strategic gain.”
Penia froze.
The political reality of his words hit her.
She had been acting purely on morals, forgetting the political earthquake her actions could cause.
“You want to be a benevolent and effective ruler?” Ed asked, his golden-hued eyes piercing her facade.
“Then learn to utilize your pieces.
I have no family, no faction, and no loyalties.
I am completely neutral.
A ghost.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
“Don’t throw away a piece that operates in the shadows just to satisfy a fleeting sense of righteousness.
You never know when you might need someone who exists outside the rules of your noble society.”
Penia stared at him, unnerved but profoundly intrigued.
This wasn’t the pathetic, arrogant boy she had heard about.
He spoke with the calculated pragmatism of a veteran statesman.
He was offering a truce, and subtly, a potential utility.
“I will withhold my request…
for now,” Penia finally said, her tone cautious.
“But I will be watching you, Ed.”
“As you should,” Ed replied smoothly.
Without a bow, he turned and walked away.
As he headed toward the arena, the familiar mechanical hum vibrated in his skull.
[Main Scenario Event: The Joint Combat Practice.] [Setting: Academy Arena.
1v1 Dueling Format.] [Objective: Pass your assigned duel without revealing the ‘Arthur Leywin’ template.
Win using only basic wind magic and physical superiority.] [System Note: Excellent political maneuvering, Host.
Turning an enemy into an intrigued observer.
Now, try not to kill your opponent in the arena.
The academy paperwork for a murdered student is a headache I’d rather avoid.]
Ed closed the blue interface.
The time to fight had arrived.