Mel sidestepped just in time as Lance tossed a small, concealed cloud technique behind him.
"Master!" Lance beamed.
"Lance, hey," Mel replied, giving the boy a playful rub on the head. But as Mel straightened up, he noticed a man and woman approaching behind Lance.
"Melanthius Shadowbane," the man said, his voice warm and booming, "our son never shuts up about you. We're the Landthugs—creators of the s'more ice cream. I'm Landon Landthug, and this is my wife, Patrice."
Mel's eyes lit up with excitement. Struggling to contain himself, he bowed low in gratitude. "The Landthugs! Thank you for inventing the crunchy, chocolatey goodness that is s'more ice cream."
When he stood back up, Landon and Patrice exchanged amused glances.
"Didn't expect that!" Landon chuckled. "I gotta say, I was surprised when Lance told us he stood up to the Jester. And you're his master, huh? He's a lot more confident now. I remember when he'd practically cry if we didn't let him meet you."
Patrice giggled, and Lance groaned, his face flushing red. "Mom! I said don't bring that up!"
Mel chuckled softly at the exchange, but the lighthearted moment was cut short when the grand hall's doors were kicked open with a thunderous bang. All eyes turned to the towering figure in the doorway—Dracula himself.
A tense silence spread across the room as Dracula's deep, commanding voice echoed through the hall. "Where's my son?"
Dorian sighed, rubbing his temples. "Always with the dramatic entrances," he muttered.
As Dracula levitated towards them, Dorian dropped to one knee, pulling Mel and Elowen down with him. "Hello, father," Dorian greeted, his tone even, but there was an undeniable tension in the air.
"Lord Dracula," Mel and Elowen echoed, following suit.
Dracula nodded in approval, and once they were back on their feet, his piercing gaze shifted to Elowen. "Arthur Pendragon's daughter, aren't you?" He let out a dark chuckle. "You know, I used to babysit your father."
Elowen laughed nervously, caught off guard by the sudden revelation.
Then Dracula turned to Mel, his crimson eyes flickering between him and Elowen. A knowing smirk curled on his lips. "Well, well… what do we have here? Merlin's son, standing beside the daughter of the man who killed him." His voice carried a mocking edge. "Now that is an interesting twist."
Mel remained still, forcing himself to hold Dracula's gaze. He could feel the weight of that ancient rivalry looming between them, but he kept his composure. Elowen, however, stiffened at the mention of her father and Merlin's history.
Dorian broke the silence, stepping forward. "Father, we're here for the feast. Perhaps save the history lesson for another time?"
Dracula's smirk deepened. "Always so serious, Dorian." He waved dismissively. "Fine, fine. Let's enjoy the evening, then. But this conversation isn't over."
As Dracula floated away to mingle with the other guests, the tension slowly dissipated. Elowen exhaled, visibly relieved. "He sure knows how to make an entrance," she whispered.
Mel chuckled, though his mind still lingered on Dracula's words. The shadow of Merlin and Arthur's past had always loomed over him. Now, it seemed that even at a celebratory feast, that history was impossible to escape.
Mel suddenly felt two strong arms wrap around him from behind, squeezing him so hard he coughed. "Bear hug of Camelot!" a short, muscular woman with fiery orange hair shouted gleefully.
Before he could react, Dorian was yanked off his feet by two sets of arms and slammed into the ground with a thud.
"Throw of Camelot!" a boy and girl yelled in unison. Both Mel and Dorian lay on the floor, coughing and gasping for air.
"Howdy!" the woman called out, casually straddling Mel's lap, making him groan. She blinked, as if suddenly remembering something. "Say, have you seen—" She stopped mid-sentence, her gaze drifting upward. The moment she recognized Elowen, her face lit up with surprise and delight.
"Well, saw me off and call me short, it's my favorite niece!" She jumped to her feet, stepping on Dorian's chest in the process, earning yet another groan from him.
Elowen, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, looked down at the woman. "Hello, Aunt Abigail." She nodded toward the boy and girl beside her. "Twins: Raven and Bertram."
The twins waved back with mischievous grins, clearly proud of their handiwork. Abigail grinned up at Elowen, her fiery energy palpable. "It's been too long, kiddo. You've been keeping these boys on their toes?"
Elowen sighed. "I see you haven't changed."
Abigail flashed a mischievous grin. "Wouldn't dream of it! Now, who's up for round two?" Without warning, she playfully put Elowen in a headlock. Despite her best efforts, Elowen struggled to escape her aunt's iron grip, but Abigail's strength was undeniable.
"You know the rules, kiddo—introduce your auntie properly!" Abigail teased, tightening her hold just a bit.
Elowen sighed, clearly resigned to her fate. "Alright, alright! Everyone, this is my Aunt Abigail, the one who raised me." She motioned toward her aunt, while still somewhat trapped in the headlock.
Mel and Dorian finally managed to get to their feet, both still wincing from the earlier takedowns. Mel bowed politely, his voice a little shaky. "H-hello," he stammered nervously. Dorian gave a half-hearted wave, clearly still recovering.
Bertram suddenly appeared in front of Mel, staring up at him with a cheeky smirk. "What's the matter? You look as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs," he said with a chuckle. Then, in a flash, Bertram feinted toward Mel, making him flinch instinctively.
Abigail laughed loudly, finally releasing Elowen from the headlock. "Looks like these boys might need some Camelot training!"
Elowen adjusted her dress, casting a frustrated glance at her aunt. "Shouldn't you be off hogtying something by now?" she groaned.
Abigail grinned mischievously and pointed across the room. "Already ahead of you."
Mel followed her gaze and his eyes widened in shock. "Lance!" he exclaimed, rushing over to the boy, who was securely hogtied on the floor.
Frantically, Mel knelt down and started fumbling with the knots. "Are these military knots?!" he muttered, struggling to loosen them. "How did she even—" He glanced back at Abigail, who gave a proud wink while Mel continued wrestling with the impossibly tight ropes.
Mel peeled the tape off Lance's mouth, and the boy gasped for air. "Thank god! She's a maniac! She should be locked up! Master, hurry and untie me so I can—"
Before Lance could finish his frantic outburst, Mel calmly pressed the tape back over his mouth. "Yeah, let's save that energy for later," he sighed.
Mel spotted Elowen and Dorian at a table and made his way over, plopping down beside them. He grabbed a tablet and began tapping it, but nothing happened. "Ah, my old nemesis… food tablets," he muttered, tapping harder in frustration.
Suddenly, his finger pierced through the glass, drawing blood. "Great," he mumbled, glancing up at Amara with a sheepish grin as he tried to hide the mess.
Amara sighed, the tablet repairing itself instantly as she took it from his hands. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice low and tinged with sadness.
Mel's playful demeanor shifted as he noticed her tone. "What's wrong?" he asked gently.
"Nothing," she replied, eyes avoiding his.
"Amara, I can tell something's bothering you." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. Her eyes glistened as she tried to hold back tears.
"Fine, you don't have to tell me," he said softly.
"My parents didn't show up," she whispered, her voice cracking as she absentmindedly scratched the cast on her arm—still a painful reminder of her run-in with the Jester.
Mel's heart sank. He was already feeling the absence of his own parents, but seeing Amara struggle with the same hurt hit him even harder. "Why didn't they come?" he asked, his voice filled with empathy.
"I don't know… My people from Frostland never miss these events," Amara sniffed, wiping her eyes. "Not even my siblings showed up." Her voice wavered, and Mel, feeling awkward, fidgeted with his hands, unsure of what to say.
"Well… I guess we can hang out then," he finally offered with a warm smile. "I don't have any parents here either."
She glanced at him, her eyes softening as a small chuckle escaped her. "Alright, freshman. Just tell me what you want to eat," she teased, her mood lifting slightly.
Mel grinned, glad to see her spirits rising. "Anything that doesn't involve me stabbing a tablet, honestly," he laughed.
At another table, Draven's father, Kraven, a towering dragon hybrid who looked like an older, more rugged version of his son, watched the exchange. He leaned over to Draven, his deep voice rumbling, "The kid's got heart. Maybe we should bring him into our Gate."
Draven, mid-bite into a steak, nodded slightly. "Yeah, that's the boy I fought to recruit," he said between chews. "But we're… not exactly on speaking terms right now."
Elowen, always curious, overheard and chimed in. "What's a Gate?" Dorian leaned forward, just as intrigued.
Kraven gave a hearty chuckle, leaning in closer to explain. "A Gate is the kingdom's army of knights. Each one represents a region's elite warriors, and ours—the Drachenward's Gate—protects the realm's northern borders."
Elowen's eyes widened with interest, while Dorian nodded thoughtfully, clearly impressed. "So, it's like the strongest of the strong?" Dorian asked, intrigued by the idea.
"Exactly," Kraven said with a proud smile.
""So, what's the Auroria Dominion's Gate?" Elowen asked, her curiosity piqued.
Kraven wiped his mouth, leaning back in his chair. "King Aldara? That spineless wimp? He doesn't train his knights properly, so they don't even have a Gate worth mentioning." He paused, a proud growl escaping his throat. "Now, not to boast, but Drachenwald? We're the strongest Gate there is—well, after Transylvania and Camelot, of course," he added with a grin. His gaze shifted to Dorian and Elowen, his eyes lighting up with sudden enthusiasm. "Speaking of, aren't you Dracula's son and the daughter of Camelot? How about joining my Gate?" He stood up, his excitement palpable.
Draven sighed, shaking his head. "They're still kids, Dad…"
Kraven, visibly deflated, plopped back down with a pout, crossing his arms. "Aww… fine," he muttered, sulking like a disappointed child.
King Aldara stood and tapped his spoon against a glass, the sound commanding the room's attention. "Settle down, everyone. I have an important announcement," he began, his voice somber yet steady. "The death of my brother, Thaddeus Aldara, was a great tragedy, and the destruction of our school a horrible blow. Yet, through these dark times, I am proud of how each of you stepped up."
He paused, scanning the room with a gentle smile. "To Melanthius Shadowbane, who has faced more than most this semester—defeating the fearsome Wild Storm Spider and standing against the Jester. To Elowen and Dorian, for their bravery in trying to protect everyone. To the sophomore, junior, and senior Black Cards, who rose to the challenge without hesitation. To the atlanteans. And to Lance Landthug, who inspired us all with his courageous heart, despite only being in the 8th grade. Lastly, to Draven StormClaw, for delivering the final blow that ended the Jester's reign of terror."
His gaze softened as he raised his glass. "Tonight, we toast. Not just for your bravery and sacrifices, but for my brother, Thaddeus. May his spirit live on in all of us."
As he finished, the room erupted into applause, the cheers ringing out for the students who had been called. Glasses clinked together in tribute, the sense of unity and pride palpable throughout the hall.
Amara glanced over at Mel, who was quietly watching the crowd cheer. "You're not joining in?" she asked.
Mel's gaze shifted to her, his voice calm but distant. "Well, as you saw, Thaddeus never really liked me. He might've been a decent headmaster, but as a person—"
Before he could finish, a plate smashed against his face, followed by his hair being yanked as his body was slammed into the table, shattering it in half. The room fell silent, gasps echoing through the grand hall as a group of men in tuxedos stormed in. Two of them had assaulted Mel.
"What was that about Headmaster Thaddeus? Say it again, I dare you," the first man had long black hair and he sneered, disgust twisting his features. The other had short blonde hair and knelt beside Mel's crumpled form. "There wasn't a man better than Headmaster Thaddeus, you criminal bastard."
King Aldara, frozen in his seat, thought to himself, "These are Thaddeus' loyalists… almost a hundred of them. If Thaddeus had become king instead of me, they'd be part of his gate and they'd be strong as hell. Their raw strength is terrifying—20% of them even use mana. Their former leader… Draven." Aldara trembled, powerless as the scene unfolded.
Elowen, fury brewing, heard one word too many. "Better man than Mel? Criminal bastard?" she muttered under her breath, her entire body tensing. {Keyword activated.}
She stepped forward, standing between the man and Mel, her voice low and dangerous. "You think you can just lay hands on anyone like that?"
The man straightened up, glaring down at her. "Who the hell are you? Back off, little girl," he waved dismissively.
"Little girl?" Elowen's eyes narrowed as she flexed her arm, revealing her defined muscles. "You calling this little?"
The long haired man faltered for a second, eyes widening in surprise as he muttered to himself, "Did she start hitting the gym or something?
The blond man placed a hand on Elowen's shoulder, roughly shoving her aside. "Heh, little girl, you're so small I barely noticed you," he laughed.
Before he could continue, a sudden thud hit his stomach. He looked down, confused, only to see Dorian's head resting against him.
"Apologies," Dorian said, his smirk widening, "You're so insignificant, I didn't even notice you either."
The man glared, struggling to form words. "T-this red-eyed—" But before he could finish, he froze, seeing Dracula looming behind Dorian, his piercing crimson eyes burning into him.
"Got a problem with red eyes?" Dracula asked, voice dripping with menace.
Abigail appeared beside him, flexing her bulging muscles. "And who're you calling a little girl?" she chuckled darkly.
Just then, the Atlanteans gathered behind Melanthius, their voices rising in protest. "Hey! I think those guys just attacked our king!" Goda shouted, sparking an outcry from the group.
The long haired man, visibly rattled, grabbed his companion's hand. "Shit, your hand's freezing," he muttered, fear creeping into his voice as he eyed the growing crowd.
The yellow haired man yanked his hand away, annoyed. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Is it so wrong to hold my spouse's hand?" the long-haired man muttered defensively, glancing nervously around.
"Spouse, my ass!" the blond-haired man retorted. "You're just scared of Dracula and King Arthur's sister!"
"Spouse? What are they even talking about?" Kraven asked, confused.
Draven, rubbing his temples in frustration, stepped forward. "Enough," he commanded, stepping between the two. "I won't allow you to ruin Headmaster Thaddeus's celebration."
The blond man sneered. "Draven, you think just because you quit being our leader you can still boss us around? You're just some 19-year-old trying to act like you're in the grown man's business."
"Ban Hákon," Draven said, pointing at the blond man. "Julius Hákon," he added, motioning to the long-haired one. "I ask you both to stop causing chaos."
Ban sighed, crossing his arms. "Fine, you're right. No more trouble. We'll just enjoy the rest of the evening." He grabbed Julius and led their group outside to join the other festivities.
Elowen, watching them go, frowned. "Who were those guys?"
Draven exhaled deeply, rubbing his forehead. "Loyalists of Thaddeus. I was one of them back when I was a freshman. I stopped leading them as a junior, though. They're grown men who followed our headmaster like zealots. Ban and Julius are childhood enemies, forced into a marriage for some political nonsense. They'd follow Thaddeus to the ends of the earth." He sighed, the weight of it all evident.
All eyes shifted to Mel as he sat up, wincing. "Ow," he muttered under his breath.
A tense silence settled over the room, and a single thought ran through everyone's mind, except for the guardians: If Mel retaliates… this could start a war.
Mel stood up slowly, his fists clenched tight, muscles tensing under the strain. He wiped the blood from his split lip and rubbed the back of his head, eyes clouded with frustration. Without a word, he turned and made his way toward the exit.
"M-Mel, what are you doing?" Amara called out, worry in her voice as she and the others quickly followed, not daring to let him out of their sight. Everyone moved in sync, bracing for the worst, knowing that a single reckless action could ignite the spark for war.
Outside in Spritz Point, the air was filled with the sounds of laughter and music as the festival in honor of Thaddeus was in full swing. Colorful lanterns swayed in the breeze, casting a soft glow on the cobblestone streets. Stalls lined the walkways, offering everything from roasted meats to delicate pastries. Performers twirled in vibrant costumes, while children ran through the crowds, their faces painted in festive patterns. The scent of spiced cider and candied fruits mingled in the air, but the joyful energy of the celebration felt distant and out of reach compared to the tension that followed Mel.
At a nearby table, five of Thaddeus's loyalists sat together. Ban yawned lazily, watching as Julius approached, grumbling under his breath and holding a stick of cotton candy. "500 knightcoins for a cloud on a stick… I hate Spritz Point!" he muttered, letting Ban tear off a piece to eat.
"You think that's bad? I can't find my damn ring," Ban sighed, looking down at his hands.
Julius nearly choked on the cotton candy, eyes wide in panic as he coughed. "What do you mean you can't find it?" he stammered, immediately dropping to the ground and frantically searching the pavement.
Matthew, a bearded man with a ponytail, raised an eyebrow. "Why does it matter if you can't find it? It's not like you two even care about the whole marriage thing."
Julius shot him a glare. "What does it matter? It matters a lot!" He continued crawling around the ground, scanning every inch for the lost ring.
Before the conversation could go any further, Julius froze as he noticed Melanthius walking toward them. Not just Mel, but the black cards were following closely behind. He stood up, cracking his knuckles, and the other four loyalists rose behind him, the tension thick in the air.
"Is this war?" Julius asked, his voice low and cautious. Mel approached silently, still rubbing the back of his head, his fist clenched at his side.
Dorian chuckled nervously from behind, "We can talk about this, Mel…"
"I'd stop him, but…" Cassius muttered, biting down on his lip until it bled, "He's already beaten us all before." The unease wasn't his alone—everyone else shared the same thought, a silent agreement hanging in the air.
Just as Mel reached them, his arm swung back, fist clenched, and everyone tensed, ready for the blow. But instead of striking, Mel extended his hand and opened it, revealing a small ring in his palm. He offered it to Ban.
"This is yours, right?" Mel said calmly, holding out the missing ring.
The tension immediately broke, and Ban blinked in surprise, slowly taking the ring from Mel's hand.