Chapter 29
[Bellarith 4th (9th month), Year 1356 of the Arcane Calendar]
| 2:30 PM |
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[Celestara, Training grounds ]
The training grounds span out behind the dueling ground—a scarred stretch of packed earth, its low stone walls etched with years of blows and scorch marks. The air bit crisp against my skin, tinged with dust.
At the center stood Professor Kael. Dark leather armor clung to his broad frame, the wolf ears jutting sharply from his midnight-blue hair, giving him an edge that was more predator than man.
His eyes—piercing azure, hard as cut glass—swept the grounds with a quiet authority that made even the boldest students sit straighter.
We filed into the tiered stands without a word, the restless noise of the grounds fading into an uneasy hush. Class was about to begin.
He took out a pack of cigarettes and murmured a few words, followed by a snap. A small flame flared at his fingertips, glowing soft orange.
He touched it to the paper, and it caught right away. Fire curled into ash as smoke rose in thin spirals. With his first drag, the tip glowed red before settling into a steady burn.
The acrid scent of scorched tobacco spiraled upward, riding the heat of conjured flame. Kael exhaled slowly, smoke drifting like a ghost into the sunlit sky.
"Sir, you're not allowed to smoke here," a boy called, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Kael's gaze flicked to him, cold and measured. "Your name?"
"Tris Derms. Noble of Aserath."
Kael's lips curved in a faint, almost cruel smile. "Five laps."
Tris froze. "Wha—?"
"Ten. Every word you waste arguing adds five more."
"I will not—"
"Fifteen."
"You're not even a noble. My word carries more than yours."
"Twenty."
Rage twisted Tris's face as he stormed forward, fists clenched. "You're not even a magician! You're trash!"
A murmur rippled through the gathered students. "We should… probably stop him," someone whispered.
If only he saw a spar between Liam and Kael. Honestly, how dumb are these third-rate villains? Does their IQ even exist??.
A jagged fire spell tore from Tris's palm, streaking forward. The flames cracked and hissed, dancing like living embers, twisting through the air with lethal intent.
Tris's lips curled into a smug grin, certain the fire would strike its mark.
Scorching fire spread across the ground, flaring in chaotic bursts—but when it cleared, there was no one. Kael had already blurred aside, a phantom slipping through space. Tris's grin faltered. He scanned the scorched ground—there was no one.
Rage and disbelief flared across his face. Teeth bared, he summoned a second spell. Flames licked the air, burning with lethal intent. Kael moved—but this time, he didn't dodge. In a heartbeat, he closed the distance, seizing Tris's wrists. With effortless strength, he forced the boy's arms upward. The fireball shot into the sky, exploding harmlessly like a dying comet.
Tris froze, eyes wide, but the words tumbled out anyway, a torrent of curses. "Let go of me! You… you demi-human dog!"
Kael's grip didn't waver. Calm, unyielding, he held Tris like a predator restraining prey. Each curse fell flat, powerless against the quiet, absolute authority in Kael's eyes.
"You… think your words matter?" Kael's voice was low, deliberate, carrying the weight of someone who bent the world around him without effort. "You… think your name matters?"
"Show me, then. What's the power of your name going to do if I tear off your arm?" Tris spat, his defiance trembling beneath the surface.
Fear crept into Tris's eyes as if he could feel every breath he took might be his last. His chest heaved; the bravado faltered under Kael's unrelenting presence.
"Kael! Enough!" Prof. Leonard's voice cut through the tension like a whip.
Kael's grip loosened, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I was just joking," he said, letting the boy's mind collect itself.
"Thirty laps. I'm being generous," Kael added casually. Tris, not daring to look up, nodded and shuffled toward the edges of the training ground.
Beside me, I saw Liam shaking, probably recalling all the horrifying things Kael had done to him before.
Just as Kael reached for his box of cigarettes, Prof. Leonard shot a quick water blast across his hand, soaking the pack and making it useless.
"Stop it, and help me out, you commoner! How did the principal even allow you to become a professor at this academy?" Leonard barked.
"Come on, don't be like that—we're friends, aren't we? Don't be shy," Kael replied, drying his hands on his leather armor with a grin.
Leonard shot him a disgusted look before turning to us.
"Your professor, Natla, must have informed you of the tests. I will call your names one by one to check your aptitude—and whether it's safe for you to travel to the Spirit Realm. "
"Pay attention. I will explain this one time only. The apparatus I'm about to fit over your head replicates the psychological stress produced by a few spirit beasts. A student must possess a minimum mental strength of Tier-3 to endure it. If you cannot pass, you will not be joining this Saturday's expedition. You are… simply too weak. Accept it."
He turned his eyes back to the list in his hands, tapping the pen against the paper as if punctuating a sentence.
"If anything abnormal happens, Professor Kael will be on hand to knock you unconscious." His voice was flat, clinical—no hint of reassurance.
Dain muttered, dry as dust, "Professor Leonard really has a way of making people feel safe."
"Elias Thorne—step forward and take a seat." Leonard nodded to Kael without waiting for a reply. "Strap him in."
"Next: Cedric Vayn—ready yourself."
"Is it just me, or does that chair look like a torture device?" I muttered under my breath.
"Looks worse," Reis replied from behind, his voice low, almost a growl.
If I remember correctly, if the way they measure mental strength matches your scale, I should pass, right? I asked, trying to steady my nerves.
"Don't worry. Your mental strength has improved a lot—you'll easily pass," Cornelius reassured me, voice calm, inside my head.
Show me the character profile thing—the floating screen.
"After the test. Don't want to ruin the fun."
I frowned, realizing he wasn't going to show it.
I could probably force him to, but I didn't mind. The tight knot of tension in my chest reminded me of waiting for my grades after an exam—a strange, nostalgic thrill that made my heart beat a little faster.
Thirty minutes passed, each second stretching, tension building with every heartbeat.
fuck this—just show me the screen! I don't like this tension!
"Fail. Final score: 2.6. Next: Saira Colt."
"Please, Cornelius… I don't like stress," I begged, feeling the pressure squeeze tighter.
He let out a soft chuckle, "No."
By now, 5 people have failed, from what I understand. Each tier is split into 10 divisions.
From what the experienced students had reviewed, they said it was like a controlled curse—something that twists your thoughts and rattles your spirit soul.
Their advice was the same across the board: remember what's happening, that this is just a test, and maintain control over your mind.
"Pass. Final score: 3.5. Next: Kyzen Lunthaler."
"Don't worry—feel sad if you fail," Reis said, shrugging casually.
Dain and Liam nodded in agreement, as if that were sage advice.
I rolled my eyes and stood up."Don't worry. I'll pass."
Because, honestly… I was going to cheat it anyway.
I sat down without confusion from watching the previous students already do it.
"I'm telling you, take caution if you can't handle it, tell me, it can cause severe damage to both your brain and spirit soul."
"Yes, sir."
I thought you didn't repeat twice.
Leonard placed the device over my head and soon was completely strapped.
I closed my eyes and sank deep into my mindscape.
Opening my eyes, I realised it wasn't completely dark anymore; the darkness was now filled with fragments of memories of the times I spent here.
"It's been almost a month, huh..."
After a while, a strange, unsettling sensation crept through me, crawling beneath my skin and rattling my nerves. I knew instantly—it was the apparatus on my head, probing, testing, bending my mind.
Then a fracture appeared in my vision, like a crack in reality itself. A memory, not mine, flickered into existence—Kyzen's memory, stitched into the air around me, blending seamlessly with the shadows and memories of the minscape.
I saw him as a child, no more than eleven, tumbling off a horse. His small body hit the ground with a thud, and he wailed, the sound raw and piercing.
Hah…seems like Kyzen had always been such a baby.
"Mommy! It hurts! Uhhhh… mommy!" he cried, clutching at the pain.
He scrambled to his mother for comfort, and Lena leapt from the horse without hesitation. She enveloped him in her arms, patting his head again and again, murmuring apologies until his sobs softened and his small body relaxed against her.
The scene shifted like wind through a shattered window. In the distance, Diana sat on a chair, holding the baby twins in her arms, her presence quiet and grounding. Watching it all, a warm ache blossomed in my chest—a tender, bittersweet feeling. But it was tangled with a sharp pang of absence. Kyzen wasn't here. Not now.
A new crack in the air opened, and I was pulled into a memory—Kyzen, pale and tense, standing aside in a quiet corner of the training grounds. Selene's eyes glinted with that cold, unreadable malice he already knew too well.
"I'm bored," she said, her voice soft, almost casual, but carrying a weight that made Kyzen flinch. "Come here… close your eyes."
Kyzen hesitated, fear pooling in his chest. By now, he knew her true nature—knew the darkness lurking behind that smile—but his mind was already a tangle of trauma, each memory fraying his nerves.
He obeyed, shutting his eyes tightly.
Then a loud, sharp scream tore through the air. Kyzen's eyes shot open, panic surging. His left index finger jutted at a grotesque angle, twisted and clearly broken. Pain radiated from it, but before he could even process it, Selene stepped close.
She enveloped him in a hug, her tone disarmingly gentle. "Don't cry, it's okay," she whispered, patting his head as if nothing had happened. "It will heal. I do want to break it again—I need it to heal. Don't worry. Let's go ask the school nurse to fix it."
I couldn't look away fast enough. My fists clenched, and my blood boiled. Crazy bitch, I muttered under my breath, disgust curling around my words.
My surroundings came back to their normal state.
"I did ask Cornelius to enter my mindscape once I pass."
I wonder how long this will take?
I walked through the mindscape, eyes catching the different memory cracks.
This time, unexpectedly, it was the darkness that took shape.
I didn't have time to understand what was happening. Voices cut through—voices I knew all too well.
A candle flickered in the dark room, its tiny flame casting long, wavering shadows—and there I was, myself in a child's body, small and fragile, watching everything unfold.
"Did you start recording?" a woman asked.
"Yes, it's recording...., You all look like ghosts in that candlelight," a man replied, chuckling warmly.
"Cut the cake already—it's past twelve," a mischievous girl added.
This time, I had let the memory merge completely with the mindscape under my will.
"Happy birthday to you."
"Happy birthday to you."
My throat tightened. My mouth felt dry, as if I were trapped in a desert with no water, struggling to form a single word—the first word I ever learned.
Mother—my mouth moved, but no sound escaped. My throat felt like sand, each word swallowed before it could form.
"Happy birthday to you, dear Oliver."
I struggled again. Fa… father?—barely above a whisper.
"Happy birthday to you."
My lips trembled as he forced out the last word, my only sister—E… Evie.
I wasn't just watching the memory—I was living it.
"Oliver, blow out the candle," Mother called.
"Oliver?"
I shook my head.
This isn't real. I can't get lost in this. I need to get out.
"Darling, turn on the lights. Something's wrong—I think there's a leak from the ceiling."
The light flicked on. My vision blurred.
"Huh? What's wrong, brother?" Evie asked, her voice tinged with concern-something in her tone that made my chest tighten.
My vision blurred.
It wasn't just the flash that overwhelmed me.
Mother gasped, sinking to her knees until her face hovered just inches from mine. "What's wrong, Oliver? What happened? Why… why are you crying?"
Dad's face hardened in alarm. Even Evie came closer, her expression tight with worry.
I didn't know if I could say this again, even if it was just a memory.
Even if it wasn't real.
"Mother… Father… little sis… I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry for going on that stupid trip.
I'm sorry for being a troublesome kid, always making you worry.
I'm sorry, Evie, for pranking you too many times to count.
Mother, Father…I don't know if I'll ever come back, but I'm truly, truly glad to have been born as your son."
The next words from my mother were not what I expected.
Her next words weren't what I expected.
"Really?"
A sudden chill ran down my spine, crawling along my neck, as her voice—soft, calm, yet sharp—cut through the warmth of the memory.
Without hesitation, I answered, voice trembling. "I… yes. I miss you all."
Before I could process it, I was shoved back. I tumbled to the floor, heart hammering.
"I don't believe you," she hissed, eyes narrowing. "From what I see… you seem to be enjoying your new life there."
I froze, confusion tangling with fear. Did I even hear her right?
This time it was Father. His voice was low, cutting. "You have a father who's a count now. Better than me, right? One who makes a living selling antiques. Must be… proud of yourself."
"No… you're wrong. I never felt that," I whispered, chest tightening as a knot of guilt and panic coiled inside me.
"Really?" His voice dropped, low, almost a growl. "Not even when you were a child? Weren't you ashamed? Embarrassed that I was your father… while your friends' fathers had real jobs?"
A cold fury coiled inside me, hot and jagged. I lunged forward, grabbing the hem of his pants.
"I was an immature brat! I didn't know any better!"
His eyes were icy, detached—like he was looking through me, past me, down at something grotesque beneath.
This isn't real. I need to get out.
Then her voice cut through—quiet, calm, almost serene—but the weight behind it pressed against my chest, suffocating me.
"Don't you… Love your new siblings more than me?" Evie's voice was soft, almost playful—but the words were jagged, sharp, slicing straight into my chest. She tilted her head, eyes unblinking, predatory, like she could see every dark thought I'd ever tried to hide.
"You've even thought… about punching me to death… so many times when I irritated you, haven't you?"
The air thickened around me. My throat closed. My hands shook.
"That's—" I tried to speak, but the sound of my own voice felt hollow, swallowed by the darkness pressing in from all sides.
"Tell me, Oliver," she whispered, and suddenly it wasn't just words—it was a living thing, crawling inside my skull.
Then everything shattered.
Voices—her voice, my father's, my mother's—layered, overlapping, screaming, whispering, pressing into my mind from every corner.
"Oliver?"
"Oliverrrrr?"
"Oliver! OLIVER!!!!!"
Each cry struck me like a hammer, rattling my bones, filling my ears, suffocating my thoughts. Shadows writhed across the walls, candlelight flickering wildly, and I felt tiny, trapped, exposed.
And then another voice, deeper, colder—Cornelius.
"Break through this illusion now," Cornelius spoke.
"Break through this illusion now," he said, cold and commanding.
I clenched my teeth, grounding myself. Slowly, deliberately, I pulled my mindscape back into focus.
"Exit the mindscape."
I didn't question it. I didn't resist. I just did as he told.
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— ◈Character Profile ◈ —
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Name: Kyzen Lunthaler Varae
Contractor: Cornelius Veydris
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->Bloodline magic: Three Pillars of Dreams
▶ Conscious skills [0]:
▶Unconscious skills [1]:
▶ Subconscious skills [0]:
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->Stats progression :
▶ [Level 2- Mage] :(54%)
▶ [Level 2- physique] :(40%)
▶ [Level ◼ -Mental strength] :(◼◼%)
▶ [Level 2 -spirituality] :(80%)
▶ [Level 1 -spirit sync] :(00%)
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— ◈Character Profile ◈ —