Chapter 99
The High Council of the Royal Academy convened in the grand auditorium, an echoing chamber carved from stone and polished dragon glass. A place reserved only for the most severe matters of discipline or honor. Ornate glyphs floated midair, ancient magical seals humming softly as the attending students held their breath.
The tribunal of six sat behind a semicircular platform, excluding Duchess Elleena Rothchester, being the mother of the student in question, the headmaster, three senior magi, the legal overseer, and a representative of the Crown. Each bore ceremonial robes embedded with mana-sensitive sigils, their presence alone enough to silence a room of a thousand.
In the center, standing beneath the shifting light of the arcane spotlight, was Daniel Rothchester—calm, composed, hands folded behind his back. No fear. No arrogance. Just readiness.
After long deliberation and whispered consultations, Headmaster Virandel stood.
"After thorough investigation and review, the council concludes that the Harmonizing Crystal was not destroyed through malicious intent, sabotage, or recklessness. Rather… it responded."
A ripple passed through the crowd.
"It reacted to Daniel Rothchester's mana in a way that defied our known magical theory. And because of this, the incident is not deemed a violation but a revelation."
A pause. Then the headmaster added:
"Furthermore, let it be known that the young lord's status as heir of House Rothchester shall no longer be hidden under request of his family. It is time the academy sees him for who he is."
That final sentence hit like thunder.
Gasps. Murmurs. The nobility shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Suddenly, the "quiet boy" in their class wasn't just a talented weirdo.
He was a Rochester.
Son of the Duchess, a war hero.
And the one who shattered an artifact even a few unregistered mages feared to touch, knowing it will fully assets ones mana capacity and ability and everybody can see their weakness and use it against them after.
Daniel's Return to Class
Later that day, Daniel returned to class as if nothing had happened. The halls buzzed louder than ever. Whispers crawled up the marble walls.
"He's nobility?"
"It's been announced."
"Eighteen years!" Cassien barked, his voice wobbling between outrage and bafflement. "Eighteen years he's been gone! Everyone knew the Rothchester heir vanished near the Western Gorge! Everyone! There were search parties! Memorials! The Queen's own astrologers declared him dead!"
He turned in a half-circle, glaring at the crowd as if willing them to admit their ignorance.
"And now you all just gasp and flutter like pigeons because it turns out the wild boy with the unmatched mana signature who survived—who lived in the forest since before any of us could cast a light spell—happens to be that missing heir?!"
He threw his arms up in the air.
"Were you living under a rock? Or did you all just choose to ignore the signs?"
The silence that followed was deafening.
Cassien, panting slightly now, continued in a lower, seething tone. "A crystal shatters at his touch. He speaks to beasts like old druid kings. And he's trained in raw, unfiltered mana manipulation that hasn't been taught in centuries. But none of you asked questions. You just gawked at his face and whispered about 'luck' and 'talent.'"
He jabbed a finger toward the stained glass window depicting the House of Rothchester crest.
"He is Rothchester. Born of a war hero. Raised by the forest itself. The kind of origin story bards fight each other to sing—and you lot were too busy sipping spiced wine and spreading rumors about who he might be bedding!"
A few nobles looked away, suddenly finding their shoes interesting.
Cassien scoffed again, loud and theatrical. "I swear, the next time a magical prodigy appears out of nowhere with glowing eyes and the combat instincts of a storm-touched predator, maybe—just maybe—ask where they came from."
Then, with a huff, he adjusted his robes, turned on his heel, and stormed back toward the library, muttering,
"God save me from gossip-bloated minds."
As the student just ignored Cassien's rambling and continued with their gossip. Cassien Eladar unofficially the smartest student at the Royal Academy, officially the most insufferably rigid sat hunched over a mountain of books in the east wing of the Arcanum Library. The late afternoon sun filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting prismatic colors across his notes, but he paid them no mind. His thick spectacles sat low on his nose as his stubby fingers turned pages with the urgency of a man unraveling a crime.
His chubby cheeks flushed with frustration. "This doesn't make any sense," he muttered under his breath, voice tight with annoyance.
"It's impossible. An absolutely arcane impossibility."
Cassien had spent the last four hours buried in ancient tomes and classified Academy records, searching obsessively for anything—anything at all—that could explain why the Harmonizing Crystal had shattered into so many shards when that... that Daniel touched it.
No spell, no burst of mana, not even a flicker of intent. Just contact us. And poof—an artifact older than most kingdoms reduced to glowing dust.
He slammed the latest book shut—The Aetheric Resonance and Soul-Linked Relics: Volume IV—and rubbed his temples with stubby hands. "It's older than most guilds! It has survived three Grand Wars, two magical famines, and a lightning strike from High Magister Brom's duel with a sky wyrm!" He wheezed through his teeth, glaring toward the library doors as if Daniel might burst through them at any second with another artifact-destroying finger poke.
Cassien was five foot four, round-bellied, and fiercely proud of his place in the school's hierarchy of magical knowledge. A walking encyclopedia with absolutely no tolerance for mysteries that he could not explain. His classmates often joked that if you whispered the word runes, he'd appear behind you within seconds holding three books and a lecture plan.
And now? Now the unthinkable had happened. A boy, a new student no less, whose mana wasn't even properly measured yet had single-handedly triggered the impossible.
No spell circle. No curse mark. No resonance feedback. Nothing.
Cassien flipped open another record, brow furrowed like a storm cloud.
"There has to be something. The crystal only reacts to harmonized mana structures. That's first-year knowledge! He's... he's violating the laws of structured casting just by existing!"
Nearby, the librarian shot him a warning look. Cassien adjusted his glasses with an indignant sniff, then lowered his voice—but only slightly. He was, after all, on an urgent mission.
He didn't hate Daniel. He just couldn't understand him—and that infuriated him more than anything. To Cassien, reality was a puzzle, and every piece had its place. But Daniel was like someone flipping the board mid-game and declaring himself the winner.
Narrow-minded? Maybe. Thick-headed? Only when people refused to follow the rules. But Cassien Eladar had made it his life's goal to understand magic—and he'd be damned if some barefoot anomaly from nowhere upended centuries of arcane knowledge without consequence.
He jotted down a furious note in his journal:
"Rochester? Are you serious?"
"But he dresses like a stable hand, what the hell…"
"I heard his mana is unknown."
"So the crystal couldn't even handle it."
"Tch. Probably just a freak accident."
Inside the classroom, his seat remained untouched. Everyone gave him space, either in respect or just because they really don't care. Except for one.
A young muscular man leaned over his desk with a smirk. Velric Draan, son of a high merchant lord. Not noble-blooded, but rich enough to feel important.
"So," Velric said, eyes twinkling with sarcasm, "our humble commoner turns out to be royalty. I should've bowed sooner."
Daniel didn't look up from his book. He just flipped a page.
"You still can," he said quietly. "But it won't help."
That got a few snorts from the back. Even Velric froze for a second before grinning and backing off, pretending it was a joke. But the balance had shifted.
Daniel wasn't trying to make enemies. He just didn't care about the game others played.
"Subject: Daniel Rothchester—suspected latent harmonic disruption aura? Investigate bloodline anomaly, forbidden sigil exposure, or possible divine interference. Must warn Council."
As he scribbled, the pen cracked in his grip. Ink splattered over the page like a bloodstain.
Cassien didn't flinch. He simply took out another pen, adjusted his collar, and kept writing.
In contrast, Melgil now walked the halls like a storm made of elegance. She didn't need to raise her voice, didn't need to flaunt her power. Her silence commanded.
Her beauty—already legendary among the students—was now wrapped in an aura of untouchable mystique. The air shifted wherever she went, like a predator moving through a flock of fragile things pretending to be wolves.
After the tribunal's verdict, all eyes turned toward her.
The whispers started softly at first—hushed tones echoing behind velvet curtains and enchanted mirrors. Then they grew louder, more venomous. Dozens of noble-born girls, bred to believe their bloodlines alone gave them power, watched with clawed envy as Melgil—a girl with no royal seal, no land to her name—walked beside Daniel Rothchester, son of the Duchess, breaker of the Harmonizing Crystal, and now the most talked-about student in the entire kingdom.
They gathered in corners like birds plucking flesh from truth.
"She's only close to him because of his status," one sneered.
"She's a crow dressed in silk."
"She probably used some forbidden spell—some peasant charm laced with lust."
"A gutter-witch seducing nobility. Pathetic."
Behind lace fans and parasols lined with hex-thread embroidery, their eyes narrowed into daggers.
It wasn't just jealousy—it was fear.
The girl who should've been ignored, overlooked, discarded... had power. The kind of power that came not from wealth, but from presence. Worse still—the Duchess herself had acknowledged her.
They couldn't touch Daniel.
But Melgil?
They could try.
So when she walked through the garden corridor that day, five girls dressed in flowing silks—each heir to ancient titles—deliberately blocked her path. Petty power made manifest.
"Lady Melgil," cooed the tallest, her voice sugar-coated poison. "Surely even you must know how improper it is to cling to a man of standing without a title or House. It... tarnishes his reputation."
The other girls tittered with theatrical amusement.
Behind their smiles, old envy sharpened into something deeper. Cruelty.
Melgil stopped. Turned. Her gaze—silver and merciless—cut straight through them.
She said nothing. But her silence was thunder.
Then, she reached slowly into her collar, revealing the rune pendant etched with the ancient crest of House Rothchester, its edges still newly forged and radiant with binding magic.
"I speak for the Rothchester line," she said, voice as cold and clean as winter steel. "You may step aside."
The laughter died instantly. The leader faltered, her lips twitching as her composure cracked. The others looked away, suddenly studying their shoes as if the stones of the corridor were fascinating.
They moved.
Not out of politeness—but out of survival.
Melgil passed them like smoke through flames.
That night, whispers said the same group of girls was forcibly reassigned to a dorm far from the academy's central halls. No reason given. No warning.
It was later confirmed—the Duchess herself had ordered it. The message was clear:
Touch what is mine... and vanish.
That evening, the sky over the academy darkened early. Thunderheads rolled in, clouds thick with unnatural weight.
Daniel stood at the highest balcony, his hands resting on the cold stone rail. His expression was unreadable as he stared across the horizon where the old mountains loomed.
Melgil joined him without a word, her steps as quiet as memory.
"They're scared of you," she said softly, her voice almost lost in the rising wind.
Daniel didn't turn.
"They should be," he replied. "Not of me, of what's coming."
The next morning, the mood across the Academy shifted again—not with scorn, but something gentler. Curiosity.
Not everyone whispered with jealousy behind lace fans or cast judgment with narrowed eyes. Not every student in the academy saw Daniel and Melgil as threats.
Some saw them as something far rarer in the world of mana-bound bloodlines and social contracts: opportunities for genuine connection.
As Daniel entered the classroom, silence once again swept the space—but this time, it wasn't tension that followed.
It's more about the inquiry, about the two of them.
He passed rows of students who now studied him not with disdain, but with interest. Books rustled. Quills paused. Even the normally snooty Professor Hextan tilted his spectacles to glance over the rim as if reevaluating his opinion.
Then came a voice. Gentle. Friendly.
"Hey, Daniel."
He turned.
It was Tessa Marrowind, a half-elf girl with copper hair and ivy-green eyes. Daughter of a low-ranking border noble. She smiled, a little nervous, but sincere.
"I never said it earlier, but… welcome back. I mean, to the world, I guess," she said, laughing softly. "Eighteen years in a forest. That's… kinda legendary."
Daniel blinked, surprised. Her voice wasn't laced with sarcasm. Just honest fascination.
"Thanks," he replied, his tone calmer than usual.
She gestured to the seat next to hers. "You don't have to sit alone all the time, you know, unless you like brooding in shadows and scaring nobles. In which case, carry on."
A few nearby students chuckled. Even Daniel allowed himself a half-smile.
Across the hall, Melgil experienced something similar.
At the greenhouse steps where she often walked alone, two students approached her cautiously. Galen Althus, a quiet boy from the alchemy division, and Lora Sithe, a sharp-eyed scholar known for enchanting embroidery. She is Ormin Vos's female cousin.
"Lady Melgil," Galen said, bowing slightly, "I know it's... probably tiring, being surrounded by rumors and expectations. I just wanted to say your defense at the tribunal was... inspiring. You didn't flinch. Not even once. This is relatingng to Daniel."
"I assumed you two are close and acquainted," stated the bulky man named Ormin Vos. Melgil's eyes softened at the genuine compliment from Galen. Lora, standing beside him, nodded in agreement before adding, "We're here to offer our support in any way you need."
Melgil's eyes narrowed for a moment, but not in hostility, more in measured suspicion. But when she saw the faint shake in Galen's hand and the blush creeping up Lora's cheeks, her expression softened.
"I didn't flinch," Melgil said, "because people like you didn't give me a reason to."
Lora stepped forward, holding out a small silk sachet filled with dried moonpetals.
"We have so many questions we wanted to ask both of you, but I think it's best to take things one step at a time," Melgil said with a reassuring smile.
"For you. They calm the nerves," she said. "Don't worry, it's not enchanted. Just... a gift."
Melgil took the pouch with a quiet nod. "Thank you."
Word spread faster than gossip ever could: They're approachable. Human. Not monsters.
Later that afternoon, during a break between classes, a group of students from various disciplines approached Daniel in the training courtyard. Among them were:
Galen Althus is a beastmaster with two cat spirits trailing behind her.
Lora Sithe, a sharp-eyed scholar known for enchanting embroidery. She is Ormin Vos's female cousin.
Orin Vos, a bulky rune inscriber covered in ink smudges who had the social skills of a rock but the loyalty of a hound. They all had one thing in common: a newfound inclination toward the two, as they came in separately but showed they were somewhat already connected.
"Hey, Rothchester," Lora said with a grin. "Rumor says you tamed a manticore once. Any truth to that?"
Daniel shrugged. "It wasn't tamed. More like… it never happened."
Ormin scratched his head. "That's either a lie or it's just a rumor. Or both."
"Do you both want to train with us later?" Jinnae offered, balancing her rapier on one finger. "If you're half as good with a blade as you are with mana, we're in for a show."
Daniel nodded. "I'll come."
"I'll also join," Melgil added with a smile on her lips.
The offer was simple. Honest. No titles. No agendas.
That evening, Melgil and Daniel returned once more to the academy balcony. This time, they weren't alone.
Below them, voices and laughter echoed from the training fields. Tessa and Lora were chatting near the pond. Korin's foxes darted through the grass while Ormin cursed loudly over a misfired rune. For the first time, it felt like the academy wasn't just a cage of politics and envy—it was a place where things might grow.
"They're not all bad," Melgil said quietly, leaning against the cold stone.
Daniel nodded. "No. They're not."
She glanced at him, then added with a smirk, "Still wouldn't trust them with my tea."
He smirked back. "I wouldn't trust anybody with your tea."
For a moment, they both laughed. As Melgil wrapped her arms around Daniel and leaned her head on his shoulder, she felt a sense of peace and belonging that she hadn't experienced before.
But even as laughter filled the air and kindness crept in through the cracks, a shadow remained. Far off in the east wing, Cassien Eladar turned another page under flickering candlelight.
And in the darkest corners of the Academy… someone else was watching.
Not with curiosity.
But with hatred, as he felt the woman of his dreams should be holding him instead of another man,