Chapter 39: Areon and Selena / Razeal

"Now you may all leave. Say your goodbyes to your families and friends. Tomorrow morning... report at the academy gates."

The vice headmaster’s final words hung in the air.

"That’s it. Good luck."

And with that, her form shimmered then vanished, leaving only silence and the echo of finality behind.

The students below didn’t wait. Like a dam breaking, murmurs and voices burst into the air. Excitement, confusion, fear, disbelief all bleeding together into a chaos of overlapping emotions.

Some began to move immediately, reuniting with families at the edge of the field, while others simply stood frozen, still trying to make sense of what they had just heard.

"Seven hundred thousand...?" "That’s not even possible, even if you went twenty years into the future..." "She must’ve cheated. Or she’s some divine race there’s no other way."

They whispered in disbelief, not even bothering to lower their voices. Because how could anyone process that number?

A hundred was considered a success. A thousand? An elite.

But seven hundred thousand?

It didn’t just feel unfair. It felt wrong. Like the laws of reality had been bent for one girl.

And then there were the rules.

Everyone had heard rumors. Whispers about how brutal Arkanveil’s academy grounds were. How they encouraged violence.

But to hear it, delivered so coldly and clearly from the vice head herself?

That was something else entirely.

You could feel it. The pressure settling like a storm cloud over the field. A weight that didn’t lift even after she left.

They knew now survival wasn’t guaranteed.

The only thing that gave them some comfort...

Was the Healing Division.

In the distance, green light began blooming like fireflies across the broken marble. Teams of robe-clad healers moved quickly between the wounded, their chants soft, hands glowing, soothing both flesh and mind. Voices calm. Reassuring.

"It’s alright. You’re safe now." "You did well. Just breathe..."

The staff from the academy’s elite healing unit were trained for this. Not just to mend bones, but to stitch hope back into the students who would need it most. And they’d be seeing these healers again. Often.

Because in Arkanveil, pain was part of progress.

Every time a fight broke out, those injured would be treated immediately. Without that, the brutality of their progress would be slow, too slow to match the expectations set upon them.

A system where every student would get beaten, bloodied, bruised and the only way to reclaim their pride was to beat back the one who bested them.

But once they did? Someone even stronger would come along.

And then again.

And again.

That was the cycle.

And the academy didn’t care how many times they broke.

So long as they got stronger.

In fact... it applauded it.

"Anything that doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger."

That phrase wasn’t a motto here. It was a doctrine.

And yet... amid all this motion and recovery...

One student still sat alone.

Razeal.

Still seated quietly in the far corner of the coliseum, shadows curling around his posture like second skin. Watching.

Not one healer approached him.

Not even one glance. Not to say help.

They passed him by like he didn’t exist. Because they must’ve been ordered to ignore him.

"Guess I won’t be getting any healing help in Academy..."

How predictable. Racism

Razeal chuckled softly under his breath, shaking his head as he watched green robes flutter by him never even glancing his way.

And also

From afar, he caught movement.

In the distance, his eyes locked with a lone figure

The Warden.

Still there watching. Eyes locked onto him like a predator awaiting weakness.

That same smug expression still painted on his face casual, but beneath it, a sharp gleam of hunger.

A killing intent so suffocating it distorted the air around him.

It wasn’t even hidden.

"How petty do you have to be to try killing a sixteen year old while smiling like that?"

[Host it was you who provoked him in first place] System added but Razeal chose to ignored It.

He only sighed shaking his head.

Then a voice came.

[System... Everyone is leaving now. I can sense killing intent... it’s starting to radiate from the entire coliseum. All directions. All aimed at you. What’s your plan? Will you run or are we dying?]

Razeal’s gaze didn’t shift. He remained seated, left arm resting on his knee, eyes half-lidded as if he were merely bored not surrounded by people who wanted him dead.

Then, he smiled.

"Don’t worry, System," he said, voice low. "They’ll be here soon."

As if summoned by those words, the soft echo of footsteps began to sound across the marble floor measured, deliberate, too synchronized to be casual.

The murmur of the crowd grew louder, then instantly shifted into silence as a large group made its way toward him. People stepped aside, parting instinctively to give them a clear path. No one dared to interfere.

Students looked on in disbelief. Their eyes widened. Whispers scattered like dry leaves caught in wind.

"...Saintess..." someone murmured, barely audible, reverently staring at the woman walking in front her golden hair flowing like divine silk in the wind, catching rays of the setting sun and turning them into halos of grace. Her expression was unreadable, cold as steel, serene as a blade mid-flight.

"...Aeron... that’s Aeron dragonwevr! From House dragonwevr...!"

"Even the duke’s son came down from the VIP stands?! What are they doing here...?"

The crowd rippled with confusion and alarm. These weren’t just spectators. These were the empire’s future pillars its chosen elite. What business could they possibly have on the lower grounds?

And then, the realization struck like thunder.

They were walking toward him.

Toward Razeal.

"They’re going to that guy...? Do you think they’ll... attack him? Right here, inside the coliseum?"

"...that rapist?" someone whispered with a mix of disgust and fear. "Yeah, I think that’s it. There’s no way the Saintess would let him live."

"But didn’t the Vice Headmistress intervene earlier? Even stopped the holy knights? She warned them. Said the Imperial Princess was here. Would they still attack him...?"

"Idiot. Of course they would. The Academy might be neutral, but don’t forget Selena is not only heiress of duke house now she is also a Saintess now. And Aeron... he’s the future duke of House dragonwevr."

"Tthree of the strongest factions of the Empire, standing together... Even the Imperial Princess wouldn’t dare stop them. The Academy has to allow it."

"But still... why not wait until he leaves the grounds? Why cause unnecessary friction with the Academy over someone so insignificant...?"

"He’s called the Shame of the Virelans for a reason. He wouldn’t even be able to run if they attacked now. He’s pathetic."

"Shh! Don’t say that name!" another student hissed, eyes wide in panic. Sweat trickled down his neck as he looked around, only calming once he saw no one else had heard. "You wanna disappear? He’s not part of that family anymore if anyone heard they’ll think we are disrespecting the duke family."

"...Wait. If he’s still here, doesn’t that mean he passed the trial?"

"...Impossible."

"He couldn’t have... right? I mean, there’s no way someone like him..."

But doubt had already taken root.

Dozens, then hundreds of hushed voices tangled into a web of theories, each more absurd than the last. Speculations, fear, denial like maggots feeding on a bloated corpse of certainty.

Amid it all, Razeal remained unmoving.

Then he rose.

Calm. Slow. As if the weight of the world on his shoulders was nothing more than air. He stepped forward, one foot ahead, then stopped his gaze steady.

Two sides. A breath’s distance apart.

No more than two steps separated him from the approaching storm.

Aeron dragonwevr. Selena Luminus. Behind them, a disciplined procession of nearly eighty elite students each one who have passed the trial, each one deadly. They stood in perfect silence, their expressions unreadable, waiting for whatever judgment the two at the front had come to deliver.

Farther back, the Holy Knights remained frozen in place held at bay by the Saintess’s direct command. They didn’t like it. Their hands twitched against their weapons. Every instinct screamed at them to move, to protect their divine vessel from that abomination.

But they didn’t.

That piece of blasphemy is standing before there saintes and they.

They couldn’t.

Because she had ordered them not to.

Their jaws clenched. Their pride bled. But they obeyed.

Aeron stared at Razeal. His lips parted slightly, but no words came. His brows furrowed, and something flickered behind his eyes conflict, doubt, hesitation.

The image of the Dragon Spirit resurfaced in his mind.

The words spirit spoke echoed repeatedly inside his head talking about Razeal like...

A heroic figure...

A passionate generous person but too tsundere to admit.

Blah blah blah soo many things Areon almost had thought illusion that dragon spirit liked this purple potato but...All in all.

He didn’t know what to believe anymore.

Selena, standing beside Aeron, said nothing either. Her gaze lingered not on Razeal’s face, but his arm.

His right arm.

Completely ruined. Disfigured. Charred beyond recognition. A bite wound inhumanly large tore through flesh and sinew. Blood dripped freely despite the white handkerchief tied tightly over it, now dyed entirely red.

And yet, Razeal didn’t flinch. Didn’t show even a flicker of pain.

Like the arm wasn’t even his.

Like he couldn’t feel the pain.

Selena’s golden eyes narrowed, but her face betrayed nothing. No emotion. No pity. No disgust. She simply stared calm and unreadable, yet not absent. As if measuring something.

Razeal, finally, looked up.

Their eyes met.

And then... he smiled.

A smirk that bloomed like sin incarnate across his lips. It wasn’t forced wasn’t even intentional. It was instinctive. Natural.

Dangerous, Charming and Beautifully villainous. totally looking like of a villain.

It wasn’t that he wanted to smile like that; the expression was simply a result of his natural talent. He couldn’t help it, even if he tried.

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