The forest was unnaturally still. The only sound was the faint crackle of dissipating spiritual energy where the Peak Core Formation Wraith had fallen. Its blackened husk lay crumpled, dissolving into motes of shadow that hissed into the air like dying embers.
Edran's chest rose and fell in heavy, deliberate breaths. His robes clung to him, soaked through with sweat and streaked with ash. The faint, almost imperceptible golden aura of the Dragon Vein still flickered in his veins, retreating deep inside him as though wary of the world's gaze.
Freya, standing a few paces away, leaned on her sword. Her left arm was streaked with blood, though the wound was shallow. Her hair was loose and tangled from the battle, the delicate silver hairpin she wore now cracked at the tip. She studied him quietly, her sharp eyes lingering for a heartbeat too long before she looked away.
"You hid that well," she murmured.
Edran's gaze shifted toward her. "And I'd like it to stay that way." His voice carried no pleading tone—just a statement, heavy with unspoken trust.
Freya sheathed her sword with a slow, deliberate motion. "I'm not in the habit of selling secrets. But…" Her eyes narrowed faintly. "That power—you'll draw more than just attention if it's revealed."
"I know," he said simply.
A faint rustle in the shadows drew both their eyes, but nothing emerged. Neither of them knew that far beyond their sightline, cloaked in concealing arts, a tall figure in dark robes stood unmoving—Prince Darius. His eyes glinted coldly as he came after receiving the report from the cloaked figure but he could still feel the golden surge within Edran. The faint curl of a smirk tugged at his lips before he turned and disappeared into the treeline.
---
The Journey Back
The road toward the Academy felt longer than it should have. The air was damp with the scent of wet earth, and the moon was just cresting the horizon, bathing the path in pale silver.
Neither spoke for the first stretch. Edran walked ahead, his mind turning over the fight in ruthless detail. The Wraith's speed, the overwhelming pressure of its Core Formation aura, the moment he'd been forced to draw on the Dragon Vein… all of it burned in his memory.
Freya finally broke the silence. "You fight like someone who's been holding back his whole life."
He glanced over his shoulder. "You talk like someone who's fishing for answers."
Her lips quirked faintly. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not." She walked alongside him now, matching his stride. "But I'll say this—most Foundation Establishment cultivators would've died in that fight. Even with me there, it could've gone either way."
Edran said nothing, but in his chest, there was the faintest flicker of something like respect.
---
When they reached the Academy gates, the guards on duty straightened immediately. Even at night, the grand walls of the Crown's Academy stood imposing, lit by soft arrays embedded in the stone that glimmered faintly like starlight. Word of their mission had clearly preceded them—there was a certain sharpness in the guards' eyes, a curiosity they didn't bother to hide.
Inside, the Academy was quieter than usual. A few late-night students walked the torch-lit paths between buildings, their conversations halting when they noticed Edran and Freya. Whispers rose almost immediately.
"That's him—"
"—the tournament champion—"
"—and that's Lady Freya, the Dean's daughter…"
Edran ignored them entirely. Freya seemed used to it, her expression smooth and untouched by the murmurs.
---
The Dean
The summons came quicker than expected. They had barely reached the dormitory wing before an instructor intercepted them—a tall man with greying hair and a strict posture, Instructor Maelis.
"The Dean will see you now," Maelis said, his eyes flicking from Edran to Freya. "Both of you."
The Dean's study was a spacious chamber lined with tall shelves, each crammed with books and ancient scrolls. Incense burned faintly in the corner, mingling with the scent of old parchment.
Dean Harrow, a man whose presence could fill the room without effort, sat behind an elegantly carved desk. His gaze was sharp, but not unkind.
"You returned earlier than I expected," he began. "That means either your task was easier than it should have been… or you pushed yourselves further than you should have."
Freya inclined her head. "The latter, Father. The target was… stronger than intelligence suggested."
Harrow's brows drew together slightly, but he said nothing at first. His gaze slid to Edran, studying him in a way that made it clear he saw more than most.
"I see," the Dean murmured finally. "Well done, both of you. But be careful—victories can be as dangerous as defeats, depending on who's watching."
Edran caught the weight in his words but gave only a small nod.
---
Darius in the Shadows
Elsewhere, deep within one of the secluded chambers of the Imperial Palace, Prince Darius knelt before a figure in Grey masked swathed entirely in black. The faint gleam of silver eyes was all that marked the stranger's face.
"So… it is true," the shadowy figure said. "The boy carries the Dragon Vein."
Darius's mouth curled into a thin smile. "I saw it with my own eyes. And I know my dear brother—he'll try to hide it. But secrets are fragile things."
The figure's voice was like silk drawn over a blade. "Then we must take steps. Our master will want him alive… for now."
Darius bowed his head slightly. "Of course. And when the time comes…" He let the words trail, his smirk speaking the rest.
If only he knew.....
------
TO BE CONTINUED....