Early in the morning, Lucas stood with his sword, eyes wide open and intent, preparing himself in the pre-dawn silence.
For many young men aspiring to be knights, early training was a matter of routine.
But for Lucas, this training was different.
Even before the sun had crested the horizon, before its light washed over the world, he was already immersed in relentless practice, driven by a fierce dedication that set him apart.
Each swing of his blade was both precise and calculated, powered by an inner strength that spoke of hard work and ambition.
His movements flowed like a well-oiled machine, each one blending seamlessly into the next, yet radiating raw determination.
Every strike seemed to part the air itself, small gusts of wind blooming with each powerful swing.
Sweat began to bead on his brow and neck, a testament to the effort he poured into each movement, and his golden eyes gleamed with fierce resolve as he brought his blade down, shattering the metallic training dummy in front of him.
“Huff!”
His breath came harder than he’d anticipated as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
The events of that day crept back into his mind, memories that felt heavy and raw.
Frustrated, he slammed his wooden sword into the ground, the loud crack echoing in the quiet morning air.
‘Training like this… it’s getting me nowhere…’
He touched his neck, feeling the faint throb of an old bruise and recalling the moment Riley had looked at him with an expression that seared deep into his memory.
Those eyes, cold and unfeeling, had held a mixture of disappointment and dread.
Although Riley’s gaze was blank, even apathetic, the message had been unmistakable, he was undeniably ‘Pathetic’
“Did he choose not to guide you well this time?” Riley’s voice had been unreadable, his tone cold and distant.
“…R-Riley… what are you—” Lucas stammered, confused.
“Well, I guess it matters not. You were bound to get stronger even without interference…”
Riley’s words trailed off as his hand tightened, choking the air from Lucas in a sudden, brutal grip.
Even now, Lucas was haunted by the cryptic message, trying to grasp what Riley could have meant.
“Lucas!”
He turned, startled, as Janica’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.
Standing at the edge of the training grounds, Janica looked a little flustered, her hair slightly disheveled and her clothes askew as though she’d rushed here.
“Janica?” He blinked, surprised to see her here so early.
“I knew you were a training maniac, but this early?” She huffed, crossing her arms. “Do you have any idea what I had to go through just to avoid the dorm master so I could come out here and find you?”
She tossed a towel at him, its soft fabric infused with a subtle glow, a sign of mana woven carefully into the material.
“This is…?” Lucas asked, catching the towel and examining the faint magic.
“Just hurry up and wipe your sweat,” she said, rolling her eyes at his bewildered look.
“Huh?”
“Oh, come on.” She flicked his forehead playfully.
“O-ow what was that for?”
“You may be out of it right now, but you haven’t forgotten everything, have you? We need to get ready—we’re going to Chronos Hall. The princess said Riley is about to be trialed today, and we can’t just sit back and watch.”
Realization dawned on Lucas’s face, and he immediately began to tidy up, wiping the sweat from his neck and arms as quickly as he could.
…
“Dean Michael of the Alchemic Department suffered two broken arms and one leg severed. Professor Lovia from the Magic Department endured mana reversal, leading to excruciating pain and severe mana backlash. Assistant Principal and academy secretary Professor Amelia… both arms fractured. Student Lucas, extreme exhaustion and an attempted murder charge. Dean Gale… stabbed through his—”
Professor Amelia’s voice wavered slightly as she read off the list of injuries, each account striking a blow to my gut.
I listened, half-attentive, each word mingling with a relentless ringing in my ears.
The headache that had been simmering threatened to explode.
“Riley Hell, what do you say about these alleged crimes?” the principal’s stern voice echoed.
I kept silent, processing what was said, even though the evidence weighed heavily against me.
“Silence is a privilege you’re granted today, but as it stands, it only makes your position worse. So, if you could please—”
“Will my words change anything?” I interrupted, my voice flat, meeting their gaze directly.
“That’s…” she faltered, clearly unprepared for my indifference.
They could play at being fair, but it was clear from the beginning this trial wasn’t designed to give me any real chance.
My options were limited: remain silent and accept whatever judgment they deemed fit, or deny the accusations for events I had no memory of, knowing full well they had already made up their minds.
A form of punishment was undoubtedly in store for me, yet what exactly it would be remained unclear.
Were they dragging this out just to see if my responses would influence the severity of it?
A roundabout way to determine my fate, yet one I’d have to endure. If only they’d hurry up with the verdict. But at the same time, I knew I couldn’t treat this situation so lightly. There was too much at stake.
“Are you saying you’re not going to deny any of this?” Dean Gale pressed; his gaze unwavering.
“No… the evidence is clear. Denying it would only lead to a pointless argument between everyone here and myself, wouldn’t it?”
“…It’s not exactly in your best interest to admit to all that,” Professor Amelia interjected, shifting uncomfortably. “You do realize this trial is being recorded, correct?”
“Yes,” I replied evenly, glancing at the magical device just a few meters away. “And I believe I haven’t said a single lie.”
The device, an enchanted item designed to detect lies, stood ominously at the edge of the room.
It hadn’t so much as flickered since I’d spoken.
But despite the calm exterior I tried to project, my mind was restless, churning through the foggy fragments of that day.
[See through that you break the tutorial…]
A voice, hauntingly similar to my own, echoed from somewhere deep within, the words slipping in and out of focus.
[The fragment of your destiny can only be opened once you—]
The phrase cut off, leaving only a shadow of its meaning.
Each time I tried to reach for it, the memory faded further, as though my mind itself was wrapped in layers of foggy barriers, blocking me from the truth.
It was like wading into murky water, fingers brushing the edge of something solid, only to have it sink further away.
“Although I won’t deny my actions…,” I began, my gaze moving from the recordings still playing by Dean Gale’s area to the principal seated above. “I will say that I am innocent.”
The declaration hung heavy in the room.
Shocked eyes bored into me, each expression more incredulous than the last.
It was absurd.
Every person here carried visible evidence of what I had done.
For me to claim innocence in the face of that was, in their minds, probably the most ridiculous thing said today.
But despite their reactions, the magical device lay silent.
It hadn’t flickered once.
And as realization dawned, surprise mingled with curiosity in their gazes.
The principal leaned forward, eyes narrowed, the violet of her irises glowing with a barely contained energy.
Small arcs of lightning danced at the corners, her gaze charged and intense as it settled on me.
“Based on your words,” she spoke slowly, each word precise, “we can presume you’re prepared to take responsibility for it, yes?”
The question felt like a test, as if she wanted to see if I would maintain this stance.
“Yes…,” I answered, voice steady.
“Expulsion.”
A heavy silence filled the room as the word settled, weighty and final.
“…”
“Are you saying you’re prepared to accept that form of punishment?” the principal pressed, her voice probing for any sign of weakness.
“…”
“Judging by that troubled expression, I’d assume the answer is no, isn’t it?”
“…”
The principal’s gaze softened just slightly, though her voice remained firm. “You are a talented and well-regarded student, Riley Hell. Your connections and status here are significant; whether we like it or not, they’ve made you unique within the academy.” She exhaled slowly. “Bringing you to trial like this reflects poorly on us as well.”
Her tone took on a note of somber honesty as she continued, “We’ve questioned everyone involved, stripping our personal biases, despite the dangerous powers you’ve kept hidden. We understand there may have been reasons, and perhaps even a method to your seemingly reckless actions that day.”
She leaned forward, scrutinizing me closely.
“So, let me ask once more: you were known to act normally and responsibly within the dungeon initially, but after a particular event… you changed. Were your actions influenced by something specific that happened in there?”
I met her steady gaze, feeling the weight of each word. “And if there was?”
She leaned in, studying me closely, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Unofficially,” she began, her tone almost conspiratorial, “news of your trial has already spread around the academy. Everyone’s heard about your… sudden onslaught that day. Officially, announcing your expulsion might seem like the correct course, but… we can’t rush into this.”
Her words hung in the air, each sentence laden with the intricate mess of academy politics. “You may not know this, but just as many here are eager to see you punished for your actions, there’s an equally strong push to defend you. Your fellow students… they’re trying to protect you, Riley. They’re excusing your actions, denying the accusations, insisting there was more to it than the academy staff or even the administration saw.”
