"Sothing is off about that boy," Elyndra whispered to Astrael.
"Hmm? Why do you think so?" Astrael replied with a hint of confusion in his voice.
"Just an intuition, you could say," she said casually, but Astrael could sense the subtle weight in her tone. Elyndra never spoke without reason.
He kept his eyes locked on Arthur.
The eye of the storm, Arthur, keeps on moving without a pause.
Ninety-two.
Ninety-five.
Ninety-nine.
One hundred.
The mont Arthur stepped onto the final stair, a wave of stunned silence swept across the hall, quickly followed by gasps and a chorus of disbelief.
"He... he did it?"
"What is going on today? First a high-grade mage talent... and now a supre one?"
"Am I dreaming? This can’t be real."
The priest, who had remained composed all this while, had frozen midway through writing sothing on his scroll, his eyes fixed on Arthur, who stood still atop the hundredth step, bathed in soft, shimring mana light. A holy radiance, it looked like. The light in his eyes flickered between shock and sothing darker.
The runes in the stairwell burned in golden colour while the mist coagulated around him like a whale devouring the sea. And then...
BOOM!
A gust of force erupted from the top of the stairs, a shockwave of pure mana that pushed back everyone still standing too close. So children stumbled, while the Nobles in the viewing gallery shielded their eyes.
Even the Count stood from his seat.
"A Supre-grade... in this county?" he muttered, unable to hide the tremor in his voice.
anwhile, the commoners in the stands below were practically buzzing.
"Two prodigies... on the sa day?!"
"Did the heavens bless this generation?"
"Shouldn’t the royal capital be the place for this? Why here?"
anwhile, Astrael narrowed his gaze.
Arthur stood atop the hundredth step, unmoving.
But his eyes...
They glowed faintly with golden light.
...
"See, old thing? I already took a hundred steps; that ans I am a supre grade..." Arthur muttered under his breath, excitent barely contained in his voice, though outwardly he wore the sa calm and composed mask.
But, no voice replied, as if Arthur were talking to himself.
Arthur’s eyes flickered, but inwardly he smiled. ’Still ignoring , huh? Doesn’t matter anymore,’ he thought. His lips barely moved, but his thoughts burned with suppressed emotion.
Just a few years ago, he had been nothing. A nobody in the towering, sunless halls of Dragonheart. A child born of a lowly maid, bearing the crest of that prestigious house only in blood, not in na.
In a place where strength was everything, where weakness was equivalent to sin, he had been invisible.
He was mocked, ignored and pushed aside. Even the servants treated him like air. His mother had wept silently every night, enduring humiliation just to keep him under the roof of the house. But not once did he forget. And he endured it all... the sneers, the disdain, the humiliations, only for her.
But on the eve of his birthday, they took even that away from him.
His heart burned with hatred. The mory of that day was etched into him like a blade carved into bone.
He had seen her that morning; she was smiling and humming softly as she prepared breakfast with her own hands. Her spirits were high, eyes sparkling as she talked about the future with him.
She was fine, absolutely fine.
And yet... that night, they told him she had "passed peacefully."
Peacefully?
Arthur’s fingers twitched, and for a mont, he had to steady his breath. Lies. All of it. He wasn’t a fool. He had the whispers from the servant and the fear in the eyes of those who pitied him.
It wasn’t an accident.
They killed her.
He was certain of it.
That was the day sothing inside him changed. When the weak, hesitant child was buried, sothing far colder took root.
But without strength, he was unable to take revenge. And he knew it. Then, the night after her death, a small silver locket that his mother had given him, tucked close to his heart since childhood, an old, weary yet powerful voice echoed in his mind.
"You seek power, don’t you?"
And that mont changed everything. Without any question, he accepted. From then on, the cold fla of vengeance beca his guide, and that voice, his only companion.
"I’ll make them regret it," he thought, his gaze darkening as he stood atop the final step. "All of them."
...
He watched in silence as the golden-haired boy stood tall atop the final step
"...So, it is possible," Astrael muttered under his breath, arms crossed. The calm expression on his face didn’t change, but his silver eyes shimred with a faint gleam.
But he wasn’t like those who get envy. That just ans he was not invincible, and it was not like he couldn’t climb more, but it didn’t hold any aning for him.
His gaze lingered on Arthur for a mont. And then, for a fraction of a second, Arthur turned his head, his blue eyes locking with Astrael’s across the vast space.
A faint, unreadable smile curled at the corners of Arthur’s lips.
And then he turned away.
As Arthur returned to the waiting area, every child’s eyes lit up with awe and curiosity. However, most were hesitant to approach. Only a few with middle-grade talent mustered the courage to walk up and try to socialise with him.
Arthur’s expression shifted instantly. His gaze turned cold, and his voice cut like a blade.
"Get lost," he said, clearly annoyed.
One of the boys hesitated. "Arthur..."
"I said get lost."
His voice echoed with finality.
The children who had stepped forward to speak with him froze, their faces flushing with embarrassnt. Without another word, they turned around and walked back to their seats, heads lowered.
Arthur said nothing more, simply folding his arms and closing his eyes—his entire deanor screaming one thing:
Stay away.
***
🌟 Hey, fellow traveller of tales and treasures! 🧭 Your presence here is a journey filled with surprises, like uncovering hidden gems 💎. Isn’t it fascinating how a little GOLDEN ✨ sothing can change everything? 💛
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