Chapter 211: The Third Gift

Vane stared at the two boxes sitting on his desk. The crimson one from Valerica and the silver one from Isole remained perfectly still, but the air around them was vibrating with suppressed mana. Professor Vyla was at the front of the hall, her chalk scratching out complex equations for etheric conductivity, yet Vane could not focus on a single variable.

The silence between his two friends was a physical weight. Valerica did not look at him, her gaze fixed on the chalkboard with an intensity that suggested she was trying to burn the wood with her eyes. Isole was similarly rigid, her hands folded so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were the color of the snow outside.

Vane was about to reach for the boxes to put them away when the light above his desk distorted.

A ripple of violet mana shimmered in the air, silent and localized. A third box materialized, dropping softly onto the stone surface right between the crimson and silver gifts. It was wrapped in midnight blue silk and tied with a ribbon that seemed to absorb the light of the room.

’Three is a much more interesting number for a rat, is it not?’

The voice of Nyx drifted into his mind, syrupy and slow. She was not in the room, but the residual mana of the Dreamscape was unmistakable. The small box radiated a faint scent of sweet ozone and shadows.

Vane felt the atmospheric pressure at his desk spike to a lethal degree. Valerica’s chair creaked under a sudden surge of gravity, and the shadows near Isole’s feet sharpened into points. Before the desk could shatter under the weight of their combined jealousy, Vane swept all three boxes into his bag with his right hand.

“Focus on the lecture,” Vane whispered, his voice low and steady.

The two girls did not respond, but the mana stabilized slightly as they forced themselves back into a state of frozen, aristocratic poise. Vane sat back, his heart rhythm returning to its usual measured pace. He was a survivor of the slums, and he had just successfully navigated a three way declaration of affection from some of the most dangerous women on the continent. He felt more exhausted than he did after the fight in the crypt.

When the lecture finally ended, Vane managed to slip away before Valerica or Isole could corner him. He needed space to think, and more importantly, he needed to investigate the new variable that had been dropped into the academy’s ecosystem.

He found Lancelot in the north courtyard.

The transfer student was standing near a frozen fountain, his back to the white gold spires of the central campus. He was not moving. He was not wearing a cloak, despite the freezing wind that whipped across the floating island. He stood with his hands at his sides, his messy platinum hair barely shifting in the breeze.

He looked like a robot that had been powered down.

In his right hand, Lancelot held a large box wrapped in gold foil and embossed with the royal crest of House Aurelia. It seemed like the gift Anastasia had given him for the Day of Concord. He held it with no warmth or care, gripping the expensive packaging as if it were a standard piece of military equipment.

Vane approached slowly, his boots crunching on the thin layer of frost. He stopped five paces away and activated Target Analysis.

[Target: Lancelot]

[Rank: 4 (Mid Sentinel)]

[Authority: None]

[Danger: Extreme]

The reading was the same as it had been in the dining hall. Vane felt a genuine spark of intrigue.

“The Empire usually likes to parade its champions,” Vane said, keeping his voice neutral. “A commoner reaching your rank without an Authority is something the imperial family would normally put on a pedestal. Why have I never heard of you?”

Lancelot did not turn his head. His red eyes remained fixed on the frozen water of the fountain.

“I was not meant to be heard,” Lancelot said. His voice was flat and devoid of any inflection. It sounded mechanical, like a pre-recorded message played through a stone.

“You are in Zenith Academy now,” Vane noted. “You are going to be heard whether the Empire wants it or not. Especially if Anastasia is the one holding your leash.”

Lancelot finally turned his head. His red gaze was blank, lacking the fire of ambition or the weight of pride. He looked at Vane as if he were scanning a target for structural weaknesses.

“She does not hold a leash,” Lancelot replied. “She provides the objective. I fulfill the objective.”

“And what is the objective for today?” Vane asked. “Standing in the cold with a box of chocolates?”

Lancelot looked down at the gold wrapped box in his hand. He stared at it for a moment as if he had forgotten it was there. “The Princess provided this. She stated it was a tradition for the day. I am maintaining the item until she requires its return.”

It was like talking to a wall. There was no personality to poke, no ego to bruise, and no fear to exploit. Vane had met many killers in Oakhaven, but they all had a motive. Some wanted money, some wanted power, and some just liked the sound of breaking bones. Lancelot had none of that. He was a tool made of flesh and Sentinel grade mana.

“Get away from him, Vane.”

The voice was sharp and carried the unmistakable weight of royal authority.

Anastasia Aurelia walked across the courtyard. She was alone, but she moved with the confidence of an army. Her golden hair was braided back, and her rapier hung at her hip. She was a Sentinel, just like the rest of them, but her presence was different. She did not hide her power. Her SSS-rank Authority hummed around her like a physical aura, shimmering with a golden, regal light that made the air feel heavy.

She stopped beside Lancelot, her amber eyes flashing with irritation as she looked at Vane.

“I told you in the dining hall to keep your distance,” Anastasia said. She reached out and placed a hand on Lancelot’s shoulder, as if asserting her ownership. “Lancelot is not here to socialize with the likes of you. He is a ward of the crown.”

“I was just curious how a commoner becomes a Sentinel without an Authority,” Vane said, his silver eyes meeting her blue ones. “It is a rare feat. Even for the Empire.”

Anastasia sneered. “It is none of your business. You think because you have gathered a few talented outcasts around you that you are a player on this board? You are a rat playing in a palace, Vane. Lancelot is the result of Imperial perfection. He does not need a fancy Authority to shatter people like you.”

“He seems like a very obedient tool,” Vane noted, glancing back at Lancelot, who had returned to staring at the fountain the moment Anastasia arrived.

“He is exactly what he needs to be,” Anastasia snapped. She stepped closer to Vane, her golden mana flaring slightly. The pressure was immense, far more refined than the raw outbursts he usually saw from other students. “Stay in your lane, Vane. If I see you sniffing around him again, I will personally remind you why the Aurelia family has ruled this continent for a thousand years. Lancelot, we are leaving.”

“Understood,” Lancelot said.

He turned and followed her, his stride perfectly synchronized with hers. He still held the gold box of chocolates with the same robotic grip.

Vane watched them go. He realized that the transfer of Lancelot was not just a political move. It was a direct challenge. The Empire had seen the anomalies popping up in the first year class and had sent their own answer.

Vane stood in the cold courtyard for a long time. He felt the weight of the three boxes in his bag.

He reached into his bag and pulled out the midnight blue box from Nyx. He opened it carefully. Inside was a single, dark chocolate shaped like a small, intricate rat.

Vane took a bite. It was bitter, cold, and tasted faintly of a promise he was not sure he was ready to keep. He looked up at the white gold spires of the academy, his silver eyes narrowing. The board was definitely shifting, and for the first time, he was not the only one holding a hidden blade.

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