It was another day of duels and lessons, the same routine that had become a cornerstone of life at the academy.
By noon, I was exhausted, my body aching and drenched in sweat from the countless bouts fought under the sun.
All I wanted was to collapse on my bed and let the day fade into a blur.
As I entered my quarters, the sight of an envelope resting on the table caught my eye. Its presence felt out of place—too deliberate, too ominous.
Curiosity overcame fatigue as I approached it, my hands hesitating for a moment before breaking the seal.
The words inside were sparse, yet they struck like a blade to my chest.
Everything stilled. The sounds of the academy faded into a distant hum, the world around me narrowing to just the parchment in my trembling hands.
In that moment, my reality crumbled.
The letter slipped from my grasp, drifting to the floor. My breath hitched, my chest tightening. Nothing would ever be the same.
When I finally scanned the words, the world seemed to tilt around me.
This wasn't from the Kaelith family.
Because there was no Kaelith family anymore.
The words etched on the parchment were simple yet devastating: my family was gone. Overnight, everything I had taken for granted—the home I grew up in, the people who raised me, the legacy we carried—was razed to the ground.
Accused of conducting demonic research, my father had been executed without trial. My mother—my gentle, ever-patient mother—had met the same fate, branded as a conspirator.
They were given no chance to plead their innocence. No opportunity to fight. They were simply erased.
And I? I was here, staring out the academy window, trying to piece together how my world had fallen apart while I stood idle.
Why didn't I rush home? Why did I stay here, wasting my time on duels and lectures, pretending everything would be fine?
The questions spiraled in my mind, each one a sharper blade than the last.
My father—stern yet kind, the man who always saw the best in me despite my countless flaws—was gone.
My mother, who had once patched up my scrapes with a gentle smile and soft words, was gone.
I closed my eyes and tried to summon tears, but none came.
Instead, memories flooded in.
As much as I hated to admit it, I had spent most of my childhood away from home, lost in the company of friends or buried in my own world. When I did visit, my parents were often busy with their work—nobles managing trade routes, overseeing lands, and balancing endless paperwork.
Back then, I hadn't thought much of it. I assumed they would always be there, always be the constant supports in my life. I never stopped to think that one day they wouldn't be.
Now, with the weight of their absence pressing down on me, there was a deep sadness in those memories—a regret that clawed at my chest.
And yet, no tears fell.
What replaced them was something far darker.
Rage.
It started as a slow burn in the pit of my stomach, a spark of anger that grew with every passing second.
Who had the audacity to accuse my father of such vile acts? Who orchestrated the destruction of my family, my home, without a shred of evidence or a moment of hesitation?
My fists clenched so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. The pain grounded me, but it didn't stop the storm brewing inside.
I thought of the people who carried out the accusations—cowards hiding behind laws and decrees, spinning lies to justify their actions. I thought of the soldiers who stormed my family's estate, dragging my parents to their deaths without giving them the dignity of a trial.
A memory surfaced unbidden, one from my past life. My parents, then ordinary people, had been wrongfully accused and stripped of their livelihoods.
The 'system' , cruel and unyielding, had forced them to live a life of hardship and disgrace.
I hadn't been able to do anything for them then. I had watched as they suffered, powerless to change their fate.
And now, here I was, reliving the same nightmare.
The system had turned against them again—against us. Only this time, the stakes were higher, and the consequences far more devastating.
My legs felt like lead as I stepped away from the window, the letter crumpled in my hand. Every fiber of my being screamed for action, for revenge.
But where would I even begin?
The academy suddenly felt suffocating, its grand halls and ornate architecture mocking me with their indifference.
My friends... they didn't know yet. They couldn't know. What could they possibly say to ease this pain, to quell the fury that threatened to consume me?
I thought of Serra and Lena, their unwavering support. Of Thad's quiet loyalty and Ryn's occasional bursts of wisdom. They were my anchors, but even they couldn't pull me back from this abyss.
And Aron...
He had been watching me closely these past weeks, his interest in me growing by the day. I couldn't shake the feeling that he had something to do with this.
His calculating gaze, his cryptic remarks—it all pointed to a man who knew more than he let on.
Could he have been the one to set this in motion?
The sword at my side stirred, its voice slithering into my thoughts.
"Now do you understand, human? The system isn't your ally. It never was. It only works if there's benefits. But I can help you. Let me guide you. Let me give you the power to right these wrongs."
I gritted my teeth, gripping the hilt until my knuckles turned white.
"No," I whispered, more to myself than to the sword. "Not yet."
But the truth was, I wasn't sure how much longer I could resist. The anger was a tidal wave, threatening to sweep me away. And if the sword could offer a way to channel that anger, to strike back at those who had taken everything from me...
I wasn't sure if I could say no.
That evening, I found myself standing in one of the academy's quiet courtyards. The moonlight bathed the cobblestone in silver, and the sword at my side pulsed faintly, as if sensing my growing resolve.
"Still sulking, Venzel?"