Falling face-first was a terrible way to start the day, even by Arian Von Vallen's standards. The cold wooden floor was a shock against his cheek. Groaning, he pushed himself into a sitting position, his already messy blond hair now even more disheveled with dust.
"Brilliant," he muttered sarcastically. "Real talent."
His dormitory room, befitting the son of a Duke, was supposed to be luxurious. And it was; the furniture was made of varnished oak, the windows were large and overlooked a well-manicured garden, and the ceiling was high. However, Arian had managed to turn it into a monument to organized chaos. Books on the history of expired dynasties lay open on the floor, piles of clean and dirty clothes mingled in a confusing harmony, and on his desk, a simple alchemy set looked as if it had just survived a small explosion—the result of his "perfectly failed" attempt at brewing a sleeping potion the night before.
It was all part of the performance. Every misplaced item, every ink stain on his finger, was a carefully chosen stage prop. Being Arian Von Vallen was a lifelong role, and he was the lead actor.
The deep, piercing ache in his muscles, however, was real. It was an echo, the remnants of the previous night's activities. The memory of the immense pressure from Gravitas's Singularity and the sensation of tearing a magical concept from a person's soul was still fresh. He had absorbed the power of four Name 4s—an achievement that would have sent the world into an uproar. But his physical body, Arian's body, now had to pay the price in the form of extreme muscle fatigue. Ironically, the reason he would give to anyone who asked was that he had "fallen out of bed."
With some difficulty, he put on his Avero Academy uniform. A white shirt, a dark blue vest emblazoned with the academy's crest—a floating island supported by a key and a sword—and grey trousers. He intentionally set his tie slightly askew and left one tail of his shirt untucked. A sloppy appearance was part of his image.
"Zaken's probably waiting for me," he thought, glancing out the window. He could see other students already walking briskly on the paths below, heading for the main building. "Damn."
He grabbed his bag, stuffed a few random books inside, and hurried out of his room, not forgetting to lock his door with a simple locking spell that took three tries to work—the first two failures were intentional, of course.
The Duke's dormitory corridor was already bustling. The air was filled with the scent of toast from the dining hall below and the buzz of conversation. The students, sons and daughters of the most prominent noble families, walked with an elegance and confidence that had been ingrained in them since birth. Arian, in contrast, walked with a fabricated haste, his shoulders slightly hunched.
"Arian! You're finally awake!"
A cheerful voice called out to him. Arian turned and smiled—his signature clumsy, friendly smile. Zaken De Efasa, with his orange hair that blazed like a sunrise, jogged to catch up with him. He was already impeccably dressed, his elegant bow slung over his back.
"Morning, Zaken," Arian said, managing his breathing to sound slightly winded. "Sorry, I overslept again."
"Again?" Zaken laughed, clapping Arian heartily on the back, an act that nearly made Arian stumble. "You're going to earn the title 'Sleeping Prince' if you keep this up. Are you alright? You look paler than usual."
"Just... a little sore," Arian replied, rubbing his shoulder. "I think the mattress is too soft."
Zaken shook his head in pity. "You're the only person I know who can get injured from sleeping. Come on, hurry up, we're going to be late for Professor Kaelen's class. You know how he hates tardiness."
The two of them quickened their pace, walking through magnificent corridors whose walls were adorned with portraits of legendary 'Named Mages'. The paintings seemed alive; their eyes appeared to follow every student who passed, a constant reminder of the pinnacle of power they were meant to achieve. Arian deliberately avoided their gaze. He didn't need a reminder.
As they neared the Magic Theory Hall, the crowd grew denser. This was where students from various noble tiers mixed. Arian saw Ceron De Hanuel standing alone in a corner, as usual, seemingly invisible to everyone. He also saw Reyna Ven Venotetra, the imperial princess, walking shyly with a few of her ladies-in-waiting, her face downcast.
And then, he saw her.
Verina Von Hevora.
She stood near the classroom door, surrounded by a few admirers, though none of them dared to stand too close. Her long, violet hair shimmered even in the dim light of the corridor. She held a thick tome on ancient runes, her amethyst eyes focused on the page, completely ignoring the world around her. She was the embodiment of perfection and tranquility. As Arian and Zaken passed her, her eyes never left the book. She didn't glance up, offered no sign of acknowledgment. To the world, Arian Von Vallen didn't exist on her radar.
However, Arian, or rather, Kayze, noticed a detail that everyone else would have missed. Verina's left index finger, hidden behind the book, tapped its cover three times in a quick, silent rhythm. It was a code. 'All clear. Operation successful. No traces.'
Arian suppressed a smile. His partner was truly the best.
"Oh, look who it is," a cold, haughty voice cut through his thoughts. "The Sleeping Prince and his orange-haired bodyguard."
Lianne val Kyros stood before them, her arms crossed. Her silver bob-cut hair and ice-blue eyes stared at Arian with undisguised contempt.
Zaken frowned. "Lianne. Always a pleasure."
"I wasn't talking to you, Efasa," Lianne snapped, her eyes still fixed on Arian. "I'm just surprised to see you, Vallen. I thought you might have decided to sleep through the semester. It would probably raise the nobility's grade point average."
"Morning to you too, Lianne," Arian said with his usual smile, as if he hadn't caught the insulting tone. "You look... radiant today."
Lianne snorted. "Don't try to be cute with me, you disgrace. Just get to class, at least you can pretend to learn something."
With that, she turned and swept into the classroom, her silver hair fluttering behind her.
Zaken sighed. "She's a real piece of work."
"She's just having a bad day," Arian said lightly. "Probably... every day."
They entered the large, amphitheater-shaped classroom. At the center, on the podium, stood Professor Kaelen. He was an old man with an aura as starched as his clothes. His sharp eyes behind his reading glasses landed on Arian and Zaken the moment they entered.
"Mister Vallen. Mister Efasa. Punctual as always," Professor Kaelen said, his voice as dry as old parchment. "Which is to say, just shy of being late. Please, be seated."
They quickly found seats in the middle rows. As Arian sat down, he could feel the professor's gaze still on him. Kaelen was the only person in this academy who genuinely made him a little nervous. Not because of the professor's power, but because of his sharp, relentless suspicion.
The lesson began. The magic blackboard behind Kaelen lit up, displaying a complex mana circuit diagram. Today's topic was "Anomalies in Aether Manifestation: Cases of Unique Talents and Bloodline Deviations".
A cruel irony.
"As you all know," Kaelen began, his voice echoing in the quiet room, "one's magical ability is largely determined by their bloodline. The Hevora family is known for their high-affinity lightning magic." He gave a brief nod towards Verina, who didn't react. "The Kyros family for their precision ice magic." He glanced at Lianne, who looked proud. "However, history has recorded anomalies."
Arian's mind drifted. He listened with half an ear, his real thoughts analyzing the invisible report from Verina. 'No traces' meant the 'Emperor's Hand' unit was likely reported as missing in action, not assassinated by an unknown entity. That was good. Secrecy was their strongest shield.
"...the most interesting cases are when an individual displays a talent completely unrelated to their lineage, or, in even rarer cases, displays a drastic lack of talent when they should, by all rights, be a genius."
As Kaelen said that last sentence, his sharp eyes stared directly at Arian. The entire class fell silent. A few students turned to look at Arian, some whispering. Zaken looked uncomfortable on his friend's behalf.
"Mister Vallen," Professor Kaelen said suddenly. "Stand up."
Arian blinked, feigning surprise. "M-me, Professor?"
"I see no other Vallen in this room," Kaelen replied curtly. "Come to the front. We shall have a simple, practical demonstration."
Reluctantly, Arian walked to the front. He could feel dozens of eyes on him. Lianne's scorn, Zaken's pity, the others' curiosity. And Verina's cold, unreadable gaze.
"The most basic spell every noble child learns before they can even read," Kaelen said. "A 'Lumen'. Create a ball of light. Show us how the son of a Duke Vallen manipulates Aether."
This was it. Showtime.
Arian took a deep breath, a deliberate act to show nervousness. He raised his hand. Inside his mind, a very different process was taking place.
Alright, how should I fail this time? Kayze thought within Arian's mind. Too little Aether and it'll flicker out. Too much and it'll pop. Popping is more dramatic and leaves an impression of 'poor control'. Yes, let's go with popping it.
He began to draw on the surrounding Aether. To him, it was as easy as breathing. He could feel the pure, potent streams of energy flowing to his fingertips. He could have easily created a miniature sun that would illuminate the entire academy. But that wasn't his role.
He shaped the flow of Aether, then intentionally created an instability in the spell's matrix. He added a slight 'wobble' to his magic frequency, a mistake that the clumsiest of novices would make.
"Focus, Mister Vallen!" Kaelen snapped.
Arian's hand trembled. A light began to form in his palm. It was unstable, flickering between white, yellow, and then an alarming red.
"Control your output!"
And... now.
POP!
The ball of light burst with a sound more akin to a bursting balloon than a magical explosion. Harmless sparks showered out, and a small puff of black smoke rose from Arian's palm, which was now covered in soot.
The room was silent for a moment, then a small laugh broke out from the corner where Lianne was sitting. Even some of the other students couldn't suppress their amused smiles. Zaken just covered his face with his hand.
Arian stared at his blackened hand with a perfectly practiced expression of shock and embarrassment. "S-sorry, Professor. I... I tried too hard."
Professor Kaelen didn't laugh. He stared at Arian with a cold intensity. He walked closer and inspected Arian's hand, not to see if he was hurt, but to analyze the residual Aether.
"Interesting," Kaelen muttered, low enough for only Arian to hear. "The energy you gathered was enough to power ten Lumens. Yet, the matrix collapsed in a way that was... almost perfect in its imperfection. As if you broke it on purpose."
Arian's heart beat a little faster, but his face remained a mask of idiotic confusion. "On... on purpose? Why would I do that?"
Kaelen stared at him intently for a few more seconds, as if trying to read the soul behind those naive-looking blue eyes. Finally, he stepped back.
"Return to your seat, Mister Vallen," he said in a flat voice. "We clearly have a lot of work to do with you."
As Arian walked back to his seat amidst the whispers and stifled laughter, he breathed an inward sigh of relief. Today's performance was a success. The mask was still securely in place.
However, as he sat down, he couldn't shake the feeling of Professor Kaelen's gaze still drilling into the back of his head. The professor might not know what he was looking for, but he knew for certain that he was looking at a puzzle.
And Arian knew, sooner or later, the most interesting puzzles are the ones everyone wants to solve.