The portal brought us back to the academy grounds as twilight painted the sky in shades of deep violet and gold. We stepped out near the main courtyard, stretching our weary muscles after the long journey back from the mission. Everyone looked tired and under some kind of mental fatigue. ’i guess its their first time killing’, i thought.. the instructor didn’t appear, the portals brought as back and he was nowhere to be seen..
John slung his things over his shoulder and offered us a brief, approving nod. "I’ll head over to the faculty wing and turn in the rift report to Instructor Jack. You all did a solid job and i apologize once again."
"No need, you were there with us and we understand," Aria said, bowing slightly.
"You fought with us and we cant really blame you, next time, you just have to confirm with the faculty first!" Ansel said. Sitri gave a quiet, respectful nod in silence before John turned and walked toward the faculty building.
"Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going straight to my room to wash off this dust," Ansel groaned, stretching his arms over his head. "Catch you all at breakfast tomorrow."
Aria smiled faintly. "Rest well, everyone. Good work today."
We split up in the central courtyard, heading off toward our respective dorm halls. Walking through the quiet hallways of the Class S wing, the silence felt remarkably welcome. Reaching my private room, I unlatched the heavy oak door, stepped inside, and locked it behind me.
I dropped my gear by the desk, unbuckled my sword belt, and headed straight into the washroom. The hot water washed away the lingering grime, dried sweat, and metallic dust of the rift.
Stepping back into the main room, I dried my hair with a towel, leaving it slung loosely over my shoulders as I stood before the tall floor length mirror. Dressed in nothing but a white towel wrapped securely around my waist, I examined my reflection in the dim room light.
My chest, shoulders, and arms were lean, defined with dense muscle forged through relentless physical conditioning and core circulation. It was a stark contrast to the frail, malnourished body of my past life in the slums. For a 12 year old, this body was developing exceptionally well.
Knock. Knock.
A sudden, sharp knock at the door broke my thoughts.
I paused, hand still holding the towel around my hair. Ciel again?
Not bothering to put on a tunic, I walked over and unlatched the heavy door, pulling it open with my bare chest exposed.
Standing in the hallway was a girl I hadn’t expected. She had long, sleek grey hair framing a refined face, and her sharp black eyes locked onto mine. The moment her gaze landed on my bare, damp chest, a momentary flash of hesitation crossed her face.
She cleared her throat softly, instantly regaining her flawless, icy composure. "You’re needed at the Principal’s office," she said smoothly. "Get dressed."
"Understood," I replied flatly.
I pulled the door shut, walked over to my wardrobe, and quickly pulled on a clean dark tunic and trousers. Fastening my belt, I stepped back into the hallway, pulling the door latched behind me. "Lead the way."
As we walked side by side through the quiet dorm corridors, I quietly observed her from the corner of my eye. Pinned prominently to the left lapel of her uniform was a polished silver emblem, the badge of the Student Council President.
Rose. A third year cadet.
I had heard whispers about her while navigating the academy grounds. A commoner who had shattered every noble tradition by securing the rank of top cadet every single term since her enrollment. She possessed an innate, natural elegance that seemed almost unnatural for someone of common birth. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Why would the Student Council President come to summon a first year personally instead of sending an aide? And what does the Headmaster want with me at this hour?
We reached the high security staff section of the main administrative wing, passing through a polished marble hallway. A secretary sitting behind a grand desk looked up, offering Rose a polite nod. Rose returned the gesture with a subtle bow as we passed without breaking stride.
Stopping before a pair of grand double doors carved from dark ironwood, Rose knocked twice.
"Enter," Headmaster Myrra’s calm, commanding voice echoed from within.
Rose pushed the door open, stepping aside to let me pass through first. Inside, Headmaster Myrra sat behind her expansive desk, wearing silver rimmed glasses as her white, blind like eyes rested on a stack of open documents.
"Thank you for bringing him, Rose," Myrra said softly without looking up from her papers. "You are dismissed."
Rose offered a crisp, graceful bow. She cast one last lingering, curious look in my direction before stepping backward out of the office, pulling the heavy double doors shut.
The room fell into complete silence.
I stood near the center of the office, keeping my expression entirely neutral, refusing to initiate the conversation. Myrra continued reviewing her documents for a few long seconds before quietly setting her pen down.
"Sit, Cadet Ares," she instructed gently.
I walked over and took a seat in the high backed leather chair across from her desk, maintaining my composed posture.
"How was the mission?" she asked calmly.
"It was fine," I answered.
Myrra looked up from her desk, her sightless eyes focusing precisely where my face was. "Not much of a conversationalist, are you?"
I stared back at her, completely oblivious to her attempt at small talk.
Myrra let out a soft, airy sigh, adjusting her silver glasses. "I suppose I’ll get straight to the point then. Become my disciple."
The words hung heavy in the silent room.
My mind froze for a split second as I processed what she had just said. ’Her disciple? The Headmaster of the Imperial Academy wants a Tier 2 cadet as her personal disciple? What is she playing at? What does she want from me?’
Myrra watched my silent reaction, a faint, knowing curve touching her lips. "I know you wish to remain hidden... little Iver."
A jolt of cold adrenaline shot straight through my spine. My heart slammed against my ribs, a wave of internal panic washing over me despite my best efforts to keep my face still.
’How? How does she know that name? I burned every trail in Nilheim. I altered my identity, my breath, my combat style. Not even House Vorne suspected a thing!’ Enjoying the story? Read on at novelping(.)com.
Seeing the subtle shift in my posture, Myrra raised a hand reassuringly. "Calm yourself. I am not threatening you. Why would I use blackmail against one of my own cadets?"
I forced my breathing to remain steady, locking my panic away behind a wall of cold logic as I met her gaze.
"I was a dear friend of your late mother, Mary," Myrra said softly, her tone carrying a rare warmth. "And despite your best efforts, you carry a striking resemblance to Espen... that aloof, stubborn man. Connecting those traits to the timing of your appearance in Nilheim and the events surrounding House Vorne... it was not difficult to piece together who you truly are."
She took off her glasses, placing them onto the desk, and stood up from her chair. She walked slowly toward the floor to ceiling glass window overlooking the vast academy grounds.
"I suppose you have a goal you are striving towards," she murmured, staring out into the twilight. "I, too, have a goal. For decades, I held power, authority, and knowledge... yet I could never reach that goal. I was missing the single most vital piece required to change what is to come."
She turned her head slightly, her pale eyes reflecting the fading light. "Until you arrived. What was missing... was an anomaly. And you are that anomaly."
She turned back to face me completely. "So I shall ask you once more. Will you become my disciple? I will give you the resources, guidance, and power to reach your goal... and in return, you will help me achieve mine. Consider it a mutual arrangement, two people simply using each other."
I remained quiet for a moment, processing her words, before finally speaking up. "Why me? There are countless talented cadets in this academy with higher tiers and grand bloodlines."
Myrra let out a quiet, melodic chuckle. "It is quite ironic, really. I possess the rare ability to read the threads of fate tied to every soul in this world... yet unlike everyone else, when I look at you, I see absolute nothingness. I cannot read your fate."
’Because I’m a reincarnator?’ I thought internally. Because my soul doesn’t belong to the original design of this world?
"I will explain the details once you accept," Myrra said, walking back toward her desk. "Go back to your room, think it through carefully, and give me your answer when you have decided. Do not make me wait too long."
She waved her hand dismissively. "You may go."
I stood up, bowing slightly, and turned toward the exit. My mind was a whirlwind of calculations, theories, and unresolved questions as I pushed open the double doors and walked down the quiet corridor.
...
Inside the quiet office, Headmaster Myrra stood back by the tall glass window, her arms resting behind her back as she watched the small, solitary figure of Ares walking across the darkened courtyard below, looking deep in thought.
"Are you truly certain about this?" a low, distorted voice echoed from the dark shadows behind her desk.
Myrra didn’t turn around. A subtle, confident smile touched her lips. "I have never been more certain in my entire life. A child who was fated to die at birth... survived, erased his own death, and defied fate itself."
She watched Ares disappear into the shadow of the Class S dormitories. "Isn’t that fascinating?"
A dry, raspy laugh echoed from the darkness behind her. "Good luck, Lachesis... I hope things go your way this time."