Fourth House?
The words hung in the air like a forbidden spell.
Students across the great hall gaped, frozen mid breath. A few dropped their quills or clutched the arms of their neighbors. Even some professors exchanged looks of disbelief, clearly just as clueless as the students. Murmurs swelled like a rising tide.
"Was that real?"
"There's only supposed to be three!"
"Is this part of the ceremony?"
Max could hear the stunned whispers rippling around him like a wave crashing through the room.
Three Houses.
That's what everyone knew what they were taught to know. It was practically etched into the walls of Soladors itself:
Orderhall for discipline.
Silvertongue for diplomacy.
Stormforge for strength.
Never once had anyone mentioned a fourth.
Yet here it was a towering pillar of radiant sky-blue rising from the stone floor, chains still clinging to it like shackles broken too soon. And in its center, gleaming like it had been waiting for centuries, was a silver sword emblem elegant, cross-shaped, glowing faintly with magic.
Max should've been overwhelmed by the gasps, the stares, the sheer disbelief buzzing through the hall like static.
But his attention was locked on something else.
That sword.
Something about it tugged at him, clawed at a memory just out of reach.
His hand moved instinctively to his chest, fingers brushing beneath his collar where his pendant sat cold against his skin.
No way… he thought, breath catching.
That emblem… it's the same. The exact same.
The shape, the curve of the crossguard, the slight tilt at the hilt. It's my pendant.
He nearly pulled it out to check but then stopped himself. Hundreds of eyes were still on him. Not the time.
Still, the thought lodged in his chest like a seed cracking open.
What does it mean? Why is my pendant the symbol of a House that doesn't exist?
A sudden cough snapped the room's attention.
"Alright. Students, please compose yourselves."
Headmaster Fledrock's voice echoed across the hall, calm but tired, like a man already writing a hundred explanations in his head.
His eyes scanned the hall with the weariness of someone who'd expected chaos, but never hoped for it. His jaw was tight, his brow creased. He wasn't shocked just… resigned.
"Silence, please. Too much noise will disrupt the Book further."
Even that brief announcement sent another ripple of confusion through the room. The Book? Was it still reacting?
Max glanced down. The ancient tome still hummed softly under his hand, the glow matching the pillar blue and electric.
Professor Dalnorn, the one who had screamed in awe earlier, was now clutching the balcony railing like a lifeline. Tears streaked down his cheeks, but he was grinning like a man witnessing the return of a god.
"The House of Swordhart..." he whispered again, reverent. "After over three thousand years.."
The rest of the faculty, however, were not smiling.
Professor Lysira looked deep in thought, her eyes flicking between Max and the new pillar as if trying to solve a puzzle she wasn't supposed to know existed.
Professor Bianca stood stiffly, her fingers twitching near her wand, her expression unreadable.
Others muttered quietly, casting subtle shielding spells around the perimeter, just in case.
It was clear now: this wasn't planned.
This was impossible.
And somehow, Max was at the center of it.
He swallowed hard, still staring at the silver sword.
What the hell is going on?
"Please. Calm yourselves."
Headmaster Fledrock's voice cut through the noise like a blade. But this time, it wasn't just loud it carried. Mana threaded through each word, pushing it outward like a wave. Every conversation halted. Heads turned. Silence swept the hall like a cold wind.
He stood tall at the top of the staircase, his hands behind his back, eyes scanning the sea of stunned students and murmuring professors.
Then, with a slow breath, he spoke again.
"I understand your confusion. We are... just as surprised." Lying ofcourse actually he had expected it quite a bit..but no need to tell others right.
A beat of silence passed as he looked out at the sky blue pillar still pulsing gently behind Max. Chains clinked faintly where they hung broken on its sides.
"The awakening of a Fourth House was not a part of today's ceremony."
He paused, rubbing his temple for a second before continuing, his tone flat, like a man who had rehearsed this moment in nightmares.
"But what's done is done."
He straightened.
"As the thirty first Headmaster of Soladors, I hereby declare: from this day forward, Soladors recognizes four Houses, not three."
A ripple of gasps rolled through the students.
Mouths fell open. Some students exchanged wide-eyed glances, others instinctively looked to their professors for answers but even many of them looked just as stunned.
Professor Bianca raised her eyes toward Fledrock, her expression sharp with confusion. She didn't speak, but the question in her gaze was loud: Are you serious?
Fledrock glanced at her, then addressed the crowd again.
"I know you have questions. Is this House real? Has it returned by mistake?"
He looked toward Professor Dalnorn, who was still gripping the balcony railing, his chest heaving with emotion.
"As you heard, yes... Soladors once had four Houses. That is true. Long ago three thousand one hundred and seventy years, to be precise something... went very wrong. The House known as Swordhart was shut down, erased from records, and eventually forgotten."
Gasps again. Some students turned toward Max, who was still standing at the center of the ceremony circle, backlit by the blue pillar, the glow of the sword emblem reflecting faintly across his cheek.
Fledrock's voice lowered slightly.
"I did not expect this. I doubt any of us did. But history true history doesn't disappear just because it's buried. And the boy standing before you has awakened a piece of it."
He paused, gaze steady.
"Swordhart never deserved to be forgotten."
The hall held its breath. It felt like he was about to say more but the words never came. He stopped himself, jaw tightening. Something unspoken weighed on him.
The students waited, but no further explanation came.
No reason for the disappearance.
No story of what went wrong.
No details only silence.
The weight of that absence only deepened the confusion.
Max looked around, feeling dozens hundreds of eyes burning into him. He could hear the buzz of whispers building again, some curious, some awed, some wary.
Why me? he thought. Why this house?
He stared back at the blue pillar behind him. It still shimmered faintly, and he could almost hear it humming, like it was alive.
The sword symbol just like his pendant seemed to glow stronger now, as if recognizing him.
Max didn't know what Swordhart was.
But somehow, it made him feel like he knew it.
The hall stayed silent.
So silent it felt like the room had forgotten how to breathe.
Whispers had died. Movement stilled. Even the air seemed cautious, afraid to shift too much.
Professor Bianca narrowed her eyes at Headmaster Fledrock. She had worked for weeks on the sorting ceremony planned every step, every spell, every moment. And now this? A fourth House, rising out of nowhere like some ancient ghost?
What is that old man thinking?
She clenched her jaw, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her gaze flicked toward Max the silver-haired boy standing awkwardly near the glowing blue pillar, wearing ridiculous sunglasses indoors like some rebel... no sense of protocol.
She searched for anything. A hint of hidden power. Some sign that he was more than a clumsy, nervous first year.
But… nothing.
He doesn't even radiate aura. If anything, he looks like a walking distraction.
Still… he awakened a House. That shouldn't be possible. She doesn't even know what she was talking about. isn't it normal for kids to look like this weak and all...sighh.
Her eyes darkened.
Swordhart. The House of Honor, was it? She'd never even heard of it. Not once never in lectures, restricted texts, not even in whisperig rumors.
Her mind spun with questions she couldn't yet answer. But strangely, it wasn't Max who had truly piqued her interest today.
No.
It was the other boy the one standing quietly in the crowd, black hair falling across his eyes, a dark headband tied casually around his forehead. Jack. There was something… untamed about him. A raw, brimming vitality she couldn't define. a very enormous amount of vitality she can scense from him reason tho she couldn't make scense of.
She'd sensed him the moment he stepped into the hall.
He's hiding something too. and it is very interesting too.
She flicked a glance back at Max and sighed quietly to herself. That one just ruined my whole ceremony. I really should throw him off the stage.
Instead, she simply exhaled again and bit her lip. She'd deal with her fury later preferably in the Headmaster's office. He had to be hiding something. She was sure of it now. And this... this sudden declaration of a forgotten House? It reeked of planning.
Her thoughts were cut short by Fledrock's voice once again, loud and composed too composed.
"Ah, yes… one more important announcement," Headmaster Fledrock said, raising his voice once again. "Which of you professors would like to take charge of the fourth House Swordhart, the House of Honor?"
He looked slowly across the line of professors seated beside him.
For a moment, no one said anything.
A few of them shifted wherever they were standing. Some blinked. Others just stared at the newly risen pillar glowing behind Max.
Swordhart?
The fourth House?
This was all happening too fast. Not a single professor had seen it coming.
They didn't know what this house really was. They had never even heard of it before today. It had been completely erased from history, and now suddenly it was back and they were being asked to lead it?
Normally, being a House Head at Soladors was a dream. People would give up anything for the role. Power, respect, status it came with everything.
But today, the offer felt different.
No one moved. No one even raised a voice.
Something about it didn't feel right.
There were too many unknowns. Why had Swordhart been buried? Why was it hidden for over 3,000 years? If it had been sealed away for so long, there had to be a reason. Nothing is forgotten for no reason.
Even more than confusion, the professors could sense something else something off in the Headmaster's voice. He wasn't shocked. He wasn't curious. He was too calm.
Like… he already knew this might happen.
That made them uneasy.
Some professors looked at each other, quietly trying to read the room. A few were tempted they could feel the importance of the moment but in the end, none of them stepped forward.
And then, as expected, all eyes turned to the one person who had reacted earlier. The one who shouted the name "Swordhart" before anyone else.
Professor Dalnorn.
He was still standing up on the balcony, pale, gripping the railing tightly with both hands. His face was serious now. Not excited like before.
When he saw the professors staring at him, he slowly shook his head. Not in doubt but as a warning.
Don't.
That was all they needed.
Just like that, the answer was clear.
One by one, the professors looked away. No one wanted to be the first to touch something with such a mysterious and possibly dangerous past.
The silence stretched.
Fledrock waited only a few seconds before speaking again.
"No one?" he said, his tone dry. "I see."
He turned his gaze toward Max, who was still standing near the glowing pillar, eyes wide, frozen in place.
"Since none of the professors are willing to step forward," Fledrock continued, "then I will appoint the one who awakened the House."
A pause. The room held its breath.
"I hereby name Maximus Stormhart as the Head of Swordhart the House of Honor. The first of its line, and the one who brought it back."
The hall filled with gasps and whispers.
Gasps rippled through the students like lightning through water.
Even Max jerked slightly, blinking in shock.
Wait what?
Jack looked up sharply, eyes wide.
The golden-haired girl in the back row standing besides jack coughed her heart out almost.
Professor Bianca's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "You can't be serious," she muttered under her breath.
But Fledrock said nothing more.
He simply turned toward the pillar, the symbol of the silver sword gleaming behind him like a promise and a warning.