Silence and somberness filled the air of the ancient room, pressing down on Chase like an unseen weight.
He said nothing, his tired eyes fixed on the floor. He tried to remember the voices of his father and two long-lost friends.
However, no matter how hard he tried, he could never recall what they had sounded like.
"I see. Thank you..."
The words slipped from his lips, so quiet they barely escaped his throat. Yet, they carried the crushing weight of defeat—of acceptance.
Everything he'd fought for, every shred of hope he'd clung to, was gone. Any chance of reclaiming his home had been reduced to ash, its smoldering remains trampled and spit on by forces far beyond his control.
Chase cleared his throat, forcing down the bitterness that rose with it. He nodded at the headmaster, though he didn't meet his gaze.
During his time inside the Dark Forest, Chase had found himself preparing for the worst—so that if the day came and he was told the news of his father's death, it wouldn't break his spirit.
Sure enough, he wasn't broken.
His heart was heavy, but he knew what he had to do next.
Before the headmaster could continue, Chase lifted his gaze, interrupting whatever formality was to follow. His voice was quiet, yet his tone carried the sharp edge of curiosity—and something more.
"Was it murder?"
He didn't even realize he'd spoken the words aloud until the headmaster's gaze sharpened, pinning him like a bug beneath glass.
Chase quickly cursed himself within his own thoughts.
'Damnit, no, it wasn't murder. He just happened to lie down and die from old age one day.'
He was being sarcastic.
Regretting the poorly chosen question, he pictured the woman with the stone armor. No, I can't do this right now.
He coughed, drawing a strange look from the headmaster.
"Sir, I apologize for my disrespectful behavior. May I ask who killed them though...?"
The headmaster raised one eyebrow at the boy—widening one of his ancient, starry eyes.
Looking into it was like gazing at a constellation that had existed for thousands of years.
"And what are you going to do with that information, boy...?"
Chase felt rage begin to boil within his chest as the headmaster continued to speak.
"You are small, and your body has passed its breaking point. Sure, you are the first human child in history to come out of the Dark Forest alive, but the person that killed your father would tear you apart and put your head on a spike—displayed before the gates of the capital."
Chase squeezed his fist tighter in response to the man's true but harsh words.
"Wait, why would my head be displayed in front of the capital?"
The man sighed as he rubbed his eyes.
"You mean to tell me that you don't know who you are?"
Chase shook his head, feeling the chance to finally learn about his family.
"Too bad, I'm not going to tell you anyway," the man said in a humorous tone.
"Why not?"
Chase asked the headmaster, feeling his fists begin to tremble.
"Students would hate you if they attended the same school as a nameless; however, royal families would hunt you like a wild pig if they knew of your father's name."
The headmaster began to let his power influence the mighty room once more—causing it to shake violently, rattling the boy for a second or two.
Chase's breath caught as the air grew heavy, pressing down on his shoulders like an unseen hand. He'd felt power before, but this was different—ancient, unyielding, and suffocating.
After the terrible quaking, Leander's face began to show a hint of amusement.
"Headmaster Leander, you said 'if they attended the same school as a nameless.' What are you implying?"
The man rolled his eyes with a lazy expression on his face.
"Boy, you killed the Naga, as well as survived a year in one of the most dangerous places on the continent. Hell, even paladins will avoid that damned forest."
He paused for a moment.
"If you think you are going to be given a choice—whether to attend this academy or not—you are dead wrong. I don't care if you want to or not; you are going to attend this academy."
Chase was in shock, unable to form words. He thought about how it was too easy or that he was just dreaming, and his body was resting on the branch of a goliath tree.
"Your dorm room is number seven hundred and eight, in the eastern block. You can stay there starting now, since the first-year students start in two weeks when the Pyrothar dims for the winter."
"In fact, some students have already moved in."
He continued on about some housekeeping rules that went through one of Chase's ears and out of the other.
His gratefulness couldn't be described; however, he had known deep down that he had earned his spot in the academy.
The headmaster's voice echoed in his mind, a chilling reminder of the path ahead: They'll hunt you like a wild pig if they know who you are.
'Who am I?'
Chase thought to himself as he looked up at the old man.
Every word from the headmaster felt like a shard of ice, cutting deeper into the questions Chase didn't even know he had. Who was he? And why did his name—whatever it was—carry such a deadly weight?
"However, there are a couple of unique rules for you."
The boy raised an eyebrow.
"First, no matter what information you find about your family history, you will remain publicly nameless during your time at the academy. Not that it matters—once a house dies out, and the child is not marked with the house's crest, then that house becomes just another part of history and holds no more power."
He took a deep, raspy breath before continuing.
"Second, you will cover that damn scar on your leg."
Chase rolled his eyes at the old man.
The room seemed to breathe with its own age, each creak of the wood and flicker of candlelight echoing like the whispers of forgotten ghosts as the headmaster cleared his throat and gave a stern look to the boy.
"And finally... third, you are going to finish your time here as one of the top three graduates of your class..."