[Two days ago]

[The capital of Velmora]

In the heart of the palace, inside a grand conference room, several of the kingdom’s top figures had gathered. The head advisor, the finance minister, the Prime Minister, the Duke and the First Prince were all present.

At the head of the table sat King Godric Velmoran, the ruler of the land. They were here to discuss troubling news from beyond their borders.

The Prime Minister—a man with short green hair and a long, drooping mustache—spoke first. His voice was calm, but there was a hint of unease beneath it.

“Lady Bella pushed the entire group of cultists gathering near our border into the wasteland… and then wiped them all out.”

Prince Edward Velmoran—tall, sharp-featured, with golden hair and clear blue eyes—leaned forward slightly.

“Any casualties?” he asked, even though he, like most in the room, already knew the answer.

“None,” the Prime Minister replied, frowning. “She handled everything alone.”

There was a moment of silence. The weight of that fact settled over them like a heavy fog.

The Prince broke it. His voice was steady, but there was tension in his words.

“A force that strong… without loyalty to anyone. That kind of freedom is dangerous.”

The savior mentioned earlier—Venessa van Quindill—didn’t belong to any nation. She had never accepted citizenship, nor pledged loyalty to any flag.

Of course, there was once a place she called home—a nation by the southern sea. But two years ago, after saving that very nation from destruction, she made a quiet yet bold request: freedom. She didn’t want ties. Not to any government. Not to any crown. Just freedom.

In the end, they had no choice but to let her go.

Since then, Venessa has been like a bird untethered—wandering the world, chasing danger wherever it stirred. She hunted monsters, cults, and anything that drew her interest. Sometimes, she helped people. But only those who truly needed it. Never for politics. Never for favors.

She had no family to speak of. Only one person came close—a close friend, ranked fourth in the world, tied to the mightiest nation. Yet even with that bond, no one had ever seen them lean on one another. Their connection was quiet. Distant. Maybe even sacred.

After a thoughtful silence, the Supreme Authority finally spoke, his voice calm but firm, “As long as she doesn’t meddle in our affairs or step into our territory, there’s no cause for concern.”

With that, the topic of the strongest hunter was closed. No one dared add a word.

The meeting continued.

“Three mages from the Tower recently visited the Central Academy for inspection,” someone reported.

King Godric’s brows drew together in a faint scowl. He recalled hearing about a recent dispute—a clash between one of the professors and his own daughter.

Today, a decision was to be made. One that had been weighing on his mind.

“Adrian,” the King said, his tone sharpened by memory. “Did they take him to the Tower, or was he sent to the Capital?”

The King’s voice didn’t just label Adrian a fraud—it also showed how deeply he trusted his daughter’s judgment.

But then came the unexpected reply.

“Adrian passed the test, sir.”

Edward blinked, clearly confused.

“What? Didn’t he fail his AET?” He was the one who’d informed Sylvia of the failure himself. There had been no room for doubt.

The official continued, flipping through the report.

“The judges found his runesmithing not only precise but remarkably efficient. And apparently… he identified a student with dual affinity—flame and…” He paused, his brows lifting as he read the final word.

“Light.”

“Wait—Light?!” Duke Lonehog leaned forward, eyes widening slightly.

The Prime Minister gave a firm nod.

“Yes. Light. The boy’s name is Allen. He’s in his second year.”

A wave of quiet surprise swept through the room. Everyone began murmuring, exchanging glances. A Light affinity wasn’t something you heard about every day.

In fact, it meant something profound.

A warrior with Light in his veins was one in a thousand—born to stand above the rest. Born to lead or protect… or perhaps, both.

But Edward wasn’t focused on Allen.

His eyes stayed fixed on the report in his hands, flipping back to the lines about Adrian.

‘Adrian… interesting.’

——–**——-

[Present Time]

And that brought them to this meeting.

Adrian sat across from him, a trace of doubt flickering in his eyes. He looked a bit different than the last time Edward had seen him—sharper somehow, less composed, as if something was stirring beneath the calm surface.

Edward had come to the academy as Sylvie’s guardian, just to collect the annual academic reports. He hadn’t intended to meet Adrian. After all, Adrian wasn’t even Sylvie’s homeroom instructor. But when his sister had insisted—practically demanded—that he talk to the man, Edward had agreed, albeit reluctantly.

It still didn’t make sense to him. His sister adored this teacher, always praised him, spoke of him with something close to admiration. That’s why Edward had been taken aback when Sylvie asked him to look into Adrian—to investigate the man she once trusted so completely.

Breaking the silence, Edward spoke plainly, “The one who gave Sylvie the information about you failing AET… was me.”

His tone was level, almost detached. There was no remorse, no pride. Just honesty.

Adrian gave a small nod, unsurprised. “To obtain information from the testing board, I assumed student Sylvie would have needed her guardian’s help.”

Edward studied him for a moment before asking, “And you’re not… bothered by it?”

Adrian tilted his head slightly, the calm never leaving his face. “I believe it’s my responsibility to resolve the doubts my students carry,” he said, his voice low but resolute.

Then his gaze hardened, just a little.

“Even if those doubts are about their teacher.”

A few moments of silence passed. The air between them grew heavy, weighed down by the unspoken truths and buried emotions.

Then finally, Edward relented.

His shoulders eased, and a faint smile formed on his lips as he looked at the man across from him. “You went through humiliation,” he said quietly. “And for that, I want to apologize… on behalf of my sister.”

Adrian blinked, clearly not expecting that—especially not from a royal. But even more surprising was what followed: Edward lowered his head.

A prince bowing in apology.

Adrian’s expression froze for a beat before softening slightly. “It’s… okay,” he replied, his voice measured, as though weighing every word. “What’s done is done. And it’s true—I failed the AET. I can’t blame student Sylvie for pointing that out.”

Edward lifted his head again, his face unreadable.

He didn’t comment further on their teacher-student relationship. That was a line he wouldn’t cross. If there came a time when Adrian lashed out at Sylvie for uncovering the truth—if he used his authority to hurt her, even subtly—then Edward wouldn’t stay silent.

But from what he had seen, from the way Adrian had spoken so far, he didn’t believe the man was capable of that kind of pettiness.

No, Adrian seemed like someone who carried his scars quietly, someone who wouldn’t pass his pain on to others.

A brief moment of silence passed before Edward spoke again, his tone measured but curious.

“I heard about your unique style of runesmithing. I did some digging through my sources and came across the report on how precisely you tuned the wooden sword for student Allen.”

Adrian tensed ever so slightly. Though wary of Edward’s motives, his expression remained composed. He offered a soft, respectful bow.

“I’m honored to be praised, Your Highness.”

Edward gave a light nod. “Then how about this—” he said, voice firm but almost casual, “—you provide a few second-grade armaments to the military now and then, in exchange for a price of your choosing.”

Adrian blinked, caught off guard. “Armaments for military use? Me?” he asked, clearly surprised. “Aren’t there already countless Runesmiths under the capital’s employ?”

“There are,” Edward admitted, clasping his hands behind his back. “But I seek talent, Sir Adrian. And in my eyes, you’re a talent this nation would do well not to overlook.”

Adrian’s eyes betrayed his confusion. And rightly so—this entire conversation felt like a puzzle with missing pieces. Why would the Prince suddenly take an interest in his work? Why extend such an offer, and now of all times?

Edward’s lips curved into a thin smile. His gaze narrowed ever so slightly before he rose from his seat.

“Take your time,” he said, turning toward the door. “You can give me your answer after the Arcane Anvil Cup. I expect your team’s victory there.”

With that, he walked away—

—leaving behind a quietly stunned Adrian, still trying to make sense of everything.

°°°°°°°°°°°

A/N:- If you don’t remember Venessa then read chapter Chapter 11- The strongest. Drop a comment.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep