The awaited night arrived—and it was anything but ordinary.
As Nyx stepped into the grand ballroom, it felt as though he'd crossed into another world entirely. Chandeliers carved from crystal spun soft light across the vast hall, illuminating polished marble floors that could reflect entire lives if one looked closely. Velvet drapes the color of royal wine hung from gilded pillars, and faint music played in the background—delicate and haunting, like the hum of a sleeping beast.
Nobles strolled in gleaming uniforms and embroidered gowns, their laughter polished and hollow, filling the air like perfume. Top students mingled among them, each flaunting tailored suits or ceremonial robes, their badges glinting like medals of pride. Servants carried trays with glasses of honeyed wine and platters of spiced meat. Every detail screamed opulence, power, and expectations.
Nyx stepped in, as unbothered as ever. Clad in his usual black coat with only the faintest adjustment to seem 'presentable,' he scanned the venue. His indifferent gaze was a stark contrast to the masked civility swirling around him.
The moment he entered, heads turned. Whispers followed. Gazes filled with mockery and veiled hostility clung to him like thorns—most from the nobles, of course. But Nyx didn't flinch. Didn't frown. He simply walked past the staring eyes like they were furniture.
He found his group seated toward the edge of the ballroom—where those who didn't quite 'belong' to noble society were quietly tucked away.
"Looks inconvenient for you," Valon muttered, scooting to the side to make room.
Nyx shrugged and took his seat. They had just begun scanning the room's layout when a group of professors approached. Their uniforms were pristine, their steps calculated, and their expressions—haughty.
"Quite the surprise," one of them said, voice laced with that refined disdain only lifelong bureaucrats could master. "Young geniuses from all walks of life, sitting together in harmony."
His eyes skimmed the group—until they landed on Samantha. His lips curled into a mock smile.
"Oh! If it isn't the exiled princess," he said with theatrical shock. "Samantha Ironhart—the witch who cursed her own bloodline. Didn't you already cause enough damage?"
Samantha stiffened. Her nails dug into her palm. But she didn't speak. Couldn't. The weight of that title—exiled—hung heavy. Her eyes dropped, glossed with unshed tears.
Nyx exhaled.
"Professor," he said suddenly, tone light, almost playful. "It seems there's dust on my shoe."
He stood slowly, turning his full gaze to the man.
"Can you lick it?"
The ballroom froze. Conversations died. Glasses stopped mid-air. Gasps echoed. Even the music faltered.
"You—!" the professor snarled, his face going red. "You dare speak to a professor like that?"
Another professor chimed in, his voice even more venomous. "You should've died with your traitor parents, boy. A stain like you doesn't deserve the Vaelthorn name."
Nyx's eyes narrowed.
"And just because you wear a badge, you think you can walk around shoving your ass into everyone's business?"
The tension in the air snapped like a wire. Students watched in stunned silence, caught between fear and awe.
The professor raised his hand—and with a snarl, summoned a spell. Thunder boomed, and lightning cracked in the air, hurtling straight toward Nyx.
He didn't move.
Just as the lightning was about to strike, Nyx lunged forward, grabbing the bolt mid-air like it obeyed him. He surged toward the professor, now holding the thunder itself like a glowing javelin.
He pointed it at the man's throat.
"Try that again," Nyx growled, voice low, dangerous. "And I'll paint the academy walls with your blood."
With a flick, the lightning dissipated.
The professor stumbled back, face pale. The room didn't know whether to applaud or flee. That's when two powerful presences crashed onto the scene.
Ava Lunacraft and the Headmaster descended from the upper levels like falling stars, their cloaks whipping with their landing.
"Cease your actions immediately, Professor Lewis. You too, Nyx Vaelthorn," the Headmaster said, stepping between them.
"You're aware that such actions warrant immediate expulsion, correct?" Ava said coldly. Her aura erupted—ice forming beneath her feet, spreading across the floor like a living glacier.
But Nyx didn't step back. Didn't flinch. Instead, his own power surged to the surface. The [Origin] stat flickered into his aura—twisting with his mana into something deeper, older, and far more terrifying.
Dark tendrils of energy laced with eerie blue light rose from the floor, disrupting Ava's spell in midair. For a brief second—just a second—even Ava's pressure faltered.
"If this is how your academy treats its students," Nyx said, his voice calm but echoing with power, "then you can keep your rules. I don't give a damn."
Gasps echoed. Whispers spread like wildfire.
Ava stared at him, stunned—not just by the audacity, but by the sheer force of that energy.
Nyx didn't say another word. His gaze swept over the professors, then shifted toward his group—calm, unreadable. Without a backward glance, he turned on his heel and walked out of the ballroom like it reeked of filth. The others followed.
One by one, they exited through the grand doors, their footsteps echoing through the silent, stunned hall. But though they left the room behind, the tension clung to them like smoke.
---
Outside, the night was quiet… too quiet. The distant murmur of celebration still echoed from within the academy, but it felt miles away from the group's mood.
Reina kept a careful distance, her gloved fingers clutching the hem of her dress, eyes flicking cautiously between Samantha and Nyx. Theo trailed beside her, lips parted like he wanted to say something, but the words never came.
Valon and Ruby walked just behind, their expressions still tight from the ballroom's fallout. Neither said anything. They knew—this wasn't the time.
Up front, Nyx and Samantha led the silent procession, neither speaking, neither even looking at the other.
Eventually, the group began to splinter—Reina quietly excusing herself, Theo following with a glance backward. Valon and Ruby drifted toward a different path.
And just like that… only the two remained. Nyx and Samantha.
Samantha opened her mouth, eyes glistening, ready to speak—when Nyx beat her to it.
His voice, surprisingly light. The sharp edge he wore in the ballroom was gone, replaced with a crooked grin and something damn near playful.
"I didn't know you were a princess, your highness," he teased, walking backward in front of her, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes watching her like a kid who just discovered a secret.
Samantha blinked, caught off guard. Her eyes lifted slowly to meet his…
And for the first time, she saw it.
A real smile.
Warm. Gentle. Not smug. Not guarded. Just... him.
And despite herself, she smiled back.
It was small. Fragile. But real.
Then, just as quickly, her smile wavered. Tears welled up again, and she looked down, voice trembling.
"Thanks… I-I didn't know what to do back there."
Nyx didn't answer right away. Instead, he walked up beside her and gave her a light bump on the shoulder with his fist. Casual. Familiar. Like they'd always been friends.
When she looked up at him again, he was staring at the sky.
"We all got things we'd rather no one else ever finds out," he said. "But I think the real question is… do we wanna face it ourselves?"
He paused. The wind tugged gently at his coat as he stared upward, then back down at her.
"You've already done that. You accepted it. That's a bigger deal than most people ever manage. Hell, I haven't even done it yet."
His voice dropped slightly, more honest now.
"So let that past be what it is—a chapter. Not your whole damn story. What matters now… is what you do with the pages ahead."
Then, Nyx wrinkled his nose like he'd just heard something offensive.
"Ugh. That was so cringe," he muttered, groaning as he rolled his eyes dramatically, like a teenager caught reading his own diary.
But Samantha didn't laugh.
She stopped walking.
Her shoulders trembled.
And before she could stop herself—before she could force it back like she always did—the tears spilled over.
Slow at first. Then all at once.
She stepped forward, burying her face into Nyx's chest, sobbing like a dam had finally burst.
No words. No excuses. Just everything she'd been holding in… finally allowed to exist.
Nyx froze for a second, surprised. But then—without thinking—his arms came up and wrapped around her. Not tight. Not awkward. Just there. Steady.
His expression softened. He didn't speak. He didn't move. He just held her as the night stretched around them in quiet silence.
'Just what kind of reality did you live in, Sam…?' he thought, eyes dark with emotion.