Chapter 78: 78. Orientation – 1

A/N:

Guys, if you have been following the novel until now, I would like to inform you that this is the start of ACT 2.

The last Chapter marked the end of ACT 1: The Birth of a Devil.

Now I know the name of the first act feels like a cliché edgelord type of name to some readers; in fact, many times I am pointed out for my naming sense.

But trust me, I am trying to improve.

I would have liked to explain the significance of the title of Act 1, but I know you are more interested in reading ahead, so enjoy.

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“Urghh!!” William groaned as his consciousness forced itself back into place; the first clear sensation he felt was that of something wet and cold pressing against his face.

His hand flew up on instinct, then his fingers brushed against soft fur; almost shocked, he withdrew his hands.

Using his left hand for support, William slowly pushed himself upright.

The surface beneath him was soft but firm, and it took him a moment to register that he was sitting on a bed.

His breathing came out shallow before he forced himself to take a deeper breath and steady it.

The blur clouding his vision receded bit by bit, and all the shapes in his vision gained definition, and eventually a completely white room came into focus.

White walls, a white ceiling, and a white floor, so clean and sterile that it felt almost unreal.

William inhaled deeply again and lowered his gaze. Only then did he notice that his clothes were not the ones he remembered wearing.

Instead of his torn and bloodied attire from before, he was dressed neatly in the Academy uniform.

His brows furrowed slightly as he examined himself; he had been cleaned and dressed up by someone.

Turning his head to the right, he finally noticed the source of the cold, wet sensation.

A black cat sat calmly beside him on the bed, its posture composed and almost dignified.

Its shiny eyes watched him with an intelligence that did not belong to an ordinary animal.

William stared at the cat for a moment before a crooked smile tugged at his lips. “When did you become a cat, Master?” he said, his voice still rough from waking up. “Come on, there is no one here; remove the facade.”

As if responding to his words, a small poof of displaced air rippled in front of him. The cat’s form distorted and vanished, replaced instantly by Tamasya standing where it had been.

She walked to the sofa nearby and sat with her arms folded across her chest, one leg resting lightly over the other with a pout on her face.

“I was checking if you would still recognize me if I turned into a cat,” she said.

William did not respond immediately.

He simply looked at her, then a quiet chuckle escaped his face.

Tamasya noticed the smile and narrowed her eyes slightly. “What?” she asked.

“You are too cute, master,” William replied with a wide grin.

Color rushed to Tamasya’s face almost instantly.

Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened as if to retort, but the words that came out were sharp without carrying real anger.

“You shameless brat,” she snapped.

The reaction sat awkwardly between irritation and embarrassment, too tame to be genuine fury and too poorly hidden to pass as being shy.

Her expression shifted as she took a breath, and then she launched into her complaint without waiting for him to say anything else.

“Do you have any idea what happened?” she said, her voice rising. “When you were brought to the Academy’s infirmary, the healers actually said that we were playing a prank on them. A prank. They thought you were just sleeping and not injured.”

She clenched her fists as she spoke, frustration pouring out unchecked. “On your medical report, it is written that you fainted due to high blood pressure. Seriously!” Her voice cracked with disbelief. “You had your fucking chest caved out and were almost getting butchered by Vorin. Those healers don’t know shit about their profession.”

Tamasya did not stop there. She continued cursing the healers, the infirmary staff, and nearly everyone involved, her words spilling out in a rapid stream as if she had been holding them back for far too long.

William watched her quietly for a few seconds before finally swinging his legs off the bed and standing up.

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a firm hug.

“I missed you too, Master,” he said softly, one hand moving up to rub her back in a slow, grounding motion.

There was no awkwardness in the gesture. It was not the first time they had hugged, and neither of them treated it as something extraordinary.

William had already sensed that she was worried about him during their mental transmission at the time of the cult’s attack.

The tension in her tone back then had not been something he could ignore.

They stayed like that for a few moments before William loosened his hold and stepped back.

Now that he was closer, he could clearly see the signs he had missed earlier. Her mascara was slightly spread, and her eyes were puffed.

She was crying.

The realization struck him. A dull pang settled in his chest, and he released a quiet sigh before deliberately changing the subject.

“What date is it?” he asked, his voice casual as he tried to change the topic.

Tamasya turned her face away for a brief moment, wiping at her eyes as she regained her composure.

When she looked back at him, her expression was steadier. “If I am right,” she said, “your orientation started ten minutes ago.”

“Hm…” William hummed thoughtfully. His lips folded inward as he glanced down at himself again, adjusting his uniform slightly. “Who changed my clothes?”

“Umm… I asked some nurses to do so,” Tamasya replied, lying plainly to his face without even blinking.

William raised an eyebrow but did not press the issue. Instead, he nodded once.

“Since I am already dressed, then what are we waiting for?”

“Let’s go attend the orientation.”

⁑⁑⁑⁑⁑⁑

Meanwhile, inside the Academy auditorium hall, 499 students sat on clearly lined seats arranged in precise rows.

The atmosphere was tense and expectant, filled with low murmurs and restrained movements.

In the front row, Ethan sat rigidly, his posture straight but his hands clenched into tight fists on his lap. The seat beside him was empty.

William’s name was written on that seat.

Ethan stared at it longer than necessary.

Earlier, he had believed that with enough effort, he could eventually bridge the gap between himself and William.

That belief had driven him forward, especially after he began his cultivation.

From the day he got defeated by William, Ethan trained relentlessly.

During the day, his sword never left his hand, each swing repeated until his muscles screamed in protest.

At night, he cultivated without rest, forcing his body and mind to endure exhaustion. However, a new problem had soon surfaced, awakening an Element.

Ethan had wanted to awaken the storm element. It aligned perfectly with his tempest sword technique and promised faster progress, greater destructive power, and a smoother path toward fully comprehending sword intent.

He felt that once he comprehended sword intent, he could finally challenge William again.

He chased that goal obsessively over months, pouring time and effort into it.

In the end, it had all been a waste.

No matter how hard he tried, the storm element refused to answer him.

When the time came, he had no choice but to settle for the light element instead.

The decision had felt like a compromise, a quiet admission of failure he never voiced aloud.

Then came the Academy trials, and there, Ethan grimly realized two truths.

The first realization struck him when he saw William fight an ascension-ranked warrior.

Even while the enemy was being suppressed by Ethan’s own talent, William was still facing someone three ranks above himself. The scene burned itself into Ethan’s memory.

The moment William dug his hand into the enemy’s chest and ripped out his heart, something inside Ethan shattered.

The gap between them was not something that could be closed with effort alone.

Ethan bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, determination rising painfully in his chest.

“So what,” he told himself. “I will train a hundred times harder.”

The second realization was even worse and filled Ethan with anxiety.

When William had initially called for Ethan’s aid, Ethan had felt genuine joy.

He had believed that William finally considered him strong enough to fight alongside him. That belief had fueled his confidence during the battle.

But by the end, the truth had become clear.

William did not need any physical help from him to kill Vorin.

The only assistance Ethan had provided came from the effects of his talents.

And the fact that William had still called for him meant only one thing.

William knew.

He knew Ethan’s deepest secret, something Ethan had never told even his master, something he had never shared with a single soul.

William knew about his legendary-ranked talent.

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