Once all of that had occurred, the class ended without any further incident. Skye had dismissed them with a faux-sweet smile, and the ever-condescending reminder to ‘reflect on today’s lessons.’

Though, no-one was buying her bullshit, everyone had clearly seen what had actually transpired, an orchestrated aristocratic power display masquerading as instruction.

It was a mockery, but no-one could do anything to her. Skye was just too influential, and the same was with the Noble students, and since Skye had instructed them, it could easily be argued they did nothing wrong.

The students quickly filtered out of the arena, all talking about what happened, while some of the other students, namely Grant’s friends, carried him off to the infirmary after Miranda gave him a check up.

The nobles strutted out with smug satisfaction, pretending it had all been routine.

Albedo stood alone near one of the crystal pillars bordering the arena, his arms crossed and expression unreadable as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching him.

Lucian and Miranda came toward him.

“Hey,” Lucian said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into that.”

Miranda’s gaze sharpened, “They targeted you because you’re prominent. You didn’t ask for it, and yet here we are.”

Albedo turned slightly, looking at them both with a neutral glance.

“No need to apologize,” he replied, his voice calm, “It was going to happen either way.”

Lucian raised a brow, “What do you mean?”

Albedo smiled, faint and sharp, speaking in his mind.

‘Because you’re a magnet for chaos,’ he thought.

Just like every Novel protagonist, Lucian had been the sun around which the plot orbited, most of the major events were directly linked to him in some way.

And now that Albedo was at the top of Myth Class, higher than Lucian, the gravitational pull had doubled. Albedo knew that he’d be intrinsically tied with Lucian’s fate ever since he became rank #1, always being drawn into his messes, and he was ready for that.

“Don’t overthink it,” Albedo said aloud, brushing a speck of dust from his shoulder. “Just how this world works.”

Lucian looked like he wanted to ask more, but let it go. Instead, he asked, “Do you have a teammate for tomorrow’s match?”

“I have one in mind,” Albedo replied, thinking about Elara.

Miranda’s head tilted, “You sure they’ll be able to keep up? Your reputation’s on the line.”

Albedo’s eyes gleamed faintly, a flicker of mischief and certainty dancing beneath their surface.

“I don’t plan on losing,” he said simply.

He left before either of them could press further.

***

Albedo quickly walking through the Academy roads with purposeful strides, ignoring the lingering glances from other students as he passed.

Everywhere he walked, he saw students taking small looks at him, whispering while pointing at him, chatting constantly. The rumors of what happened had already spread like wildfire.

“Did you hear?”

“He’s fighting Second Years tomorrow!”

“They say he challenged them both!”

“Arrogant.”

“Bold.”

“Reckless.”

At this point, everyone knew that Albedo would be facing two seconds years tomorrow alongside a teammate of his choosing.

Those in the UpperClasses called him arrogant, and reserved seats to await his beatdown, especially the Nobles, but Albedo ignored all of that pointless chatter.

His destination was the Alchemy Wing, a series of curved towers and domes built from pale jade and bronze, the air saturated with the scents of crushed herbs, brewing potions, and acrid mana.

As he turned a corner, he spotted her.

Elara was standing just outside the Alchemy Hall, her auburn hair tied up into a quick bun with a few stubborn strands escaping. Her gloves were stained with powder, and she was mid-conversation with another student before spotting him and waving.

“Elara,” he called.

She looked surprised, “Albedo? You’ve already caused a ruckus.”

Albedo allowed a dry smile, “News travels fast.”

“You’re the talk of the Academy,” she said, placing her hands on her hip as she stared at him, “Even the cafeteria staff are whispering about how you challenge two Second years.”

He glanced over her appearance, noting the faint mana residue in her gloves, “You’ve been training hard.”

“Trying to keep up with you,” she teased, though there was something serious under her words.

“I need a partner,” he said, not wanting to waste too much time, “For tomorrow’s match.”

Elara blinked as she realized what he meant, “Wait, me?”

“Yeah, I don’t need anything special. You can read the battlefield, support and interfere, I just need a support, I can handle the offensive burden all by myself.”

She hesitated, visibly unsure, “But they’re Second Years, Albedo, they’re all Gold Rank and Nobles, with advanced techniques and experience.”

“I’ve seen you train,” he said calmly, “You’re better than you think. And I’ll be there. You won’t be alone.”

Her lips parted, hesitation lingering in her eyes… until she smiled.

“You know,” she said softly, “I actually feel a lot stronger lately.”

“Oh?”

She reached into her pouch and pulled out a folded piece of parchment, holding it out to him, a parchment Albedo vaguely recognized from earlier that day.

“It’s from a club I joined, ‘Common Glory.’ It’s sponsored by alumni, meant to help commoners succeed. I got it a couple days ago and I’m already seeing some benefits.” Elara said.

Albedo vaguely recalled two Third Years stepping in front of him outside the Central Spire. They’d handed him a pamphlet, saying something about mana flow improvement.

He hadn’t even glanced at it, he’d thrown it into the inventory the moment he had the change. He took the parchment Elara offered and glanced at it.

“Circle of Renewal,” he read, “This… actually worked for you?”

She nodded “It’s a meditation technique, simple, but it really helped smooth out my mana circulation. I’ve been more stable lately. Even my Gift responds faster now.”

Albedo hummed in thought, “Noted.” he said, reminding himself to keep an eye on this Common Glory club that had appeared out of no-where.

Sliding the parchment back into her pouch, she crossed her arms and met his gaze, “I’m in. I’ll do it. Let’s beat the crap out of those smug nobles.”

A faint grin tugged at Albedo’s lips, “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

“You’ll be charging headfirst, I assume?”

“I’ll take care of offense,” he confirmed, “You’ll be my buffer. Bind their movement. Disrupt their synergy. Feed me openings.”

She nodded, already shifting into a focused mindset.,”Got it.”

“Good,” Albedo said, eyes narrowing slightly. “Because tomorrow… I’m making a statement.”

***

Meanwhile, as all of this was happening, another important discussion was going on, one that could decide the fate of the Academy’s future.

Deep beneath the heart of the continent, in a place untouched by sun or sky, a cavernous expanse pulsed with ambient mana that shimmered like black oil across veins of stone.

Gigantic obsidian roots coiled through the ceiling like the gnarled fingers of a dead god, and an eerie stillness reigned, until it was broken by the soft clink of boots against marble.

Figures emerged from the darkness. One by one, cloaked in pitch-black robes, faces hidden behind smooth white masks carved with intricate abyssal runes.

Each mask bore a different emotion: Joy, Sorrow, Rage, Serenity, Madness. None of it was real.

Twelve seats surrounded a round table fashioned from bleached bone and silver mana threads, flickering with life. As the last of them arrived, a pale mist fell over the room, muting the ambient glow. The meeting had begun.

The figure wearing the Joy mask was the first to speak.

“The attempts in Lucian Arclight, William Frost, Miranda Starwind and Albedo Neverwinter have failed. The Golden Generation has proven… resilient.”

A snarl echoed from the one in the Rage mask.

“Of course they failed, did you seriously think that garbage would succeed, it was always an info gathering attempt. Thankfully, we’ve gathered valuable information about them through the sacrifices of our men. Slaughtering head on would be foolish with their resources, but now we know how they fight, and how to dismantle them.”

“And yet, our tendrils have found purchase elsewhere,” said Serenity, their voice smooth and confident.

From beneath the table, a shimmering illusion bloomed. It showed the crystalline towers of Zephyr Academy, overlaid with glowing glyphs marking mana networks, sealed chambers, and arcane defense sigils.

Within the illusion, a small mark pulsed red, and then another, and then more marks appeared.

“Our seed… grows well.”

The group leaned forward, watching as the red marks continued to expand, beginning to spider through the layout, infecting nodes of energy and weaving itself into student records, club rosters, and even faculty correspondence.

“How many have taken it?” asked Joy.

“Nearly a hundred across First and Second Year classes. And it’s ever-growing.” Serenity replied.

“And the Neverwinter boy?”

A moment of pause followed. Then, Madness tittered again.

“We’re still working on him. Someone with his talents and without any noble affiliation, he’s a perfect target.”

They all spoke at once now, in perfect unison, twelve voices layering atop each other like an ancient hymn:

“We watch the roots. We turn the blood of hope into the womb of despair. Let the world cheer for its heroes. Let the sun shine bright. For when the Abyss rises again…”

The bone table pulsed once, like a heartbeat.

“…they will not see it coming from beneath their feet.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep