Chapter 49
Shirayuki walked through the Academy’s halls, her footsteps echoing softly against the polished stone. The corridors were largely empty; the faculty had already gathered for the opening ceremony. The few who remained instinctively stepped aside as she approached, bowing their heads.
She simply nodded in acknowledgment and said nothing else.
Without slowing, she reached the tall pair of doors at the end of the hall and entered.
Thalor sat at the center of the room behind his desk, his eyes locking onto her the moment she stepped inside.
“Finally, you’re here. We were just waiting for you.”
Next to him stood an elderly man with gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard, clad in a dark coat trimmed with silver embroidery. Despite his age, he possessed a build sturdy enough to put most men to shame.
Armis Ashford.
To the Empire and its citizens, he was known as the Sword Saint—a title bestowed by the Imperial Family only five times in its entire history. To Shirayuki, he was just a meddlesome old man.
“It seems those rumors were true after all. I never expected you to really return,” the Sword Saint finally said, his gaze lingering as he studied her.
A faint glint appeared in his eyes, “Hah, And here I thought you’d grow dull over the years.”
Shirayuki didn’t even bother looking at him. “If that’s all you’ve come here to say, then you’re wasting my time.”
“Still crude as ever, I see.”
A cold silence settled between them. Like always, Armis found her unyielding demeanor as insufferable as ever—an attitude that flowed seamlessly into the way she fought.
The first time he had witnessed her blade, he could hardly believe such a style could exist. To Armis, the sword was a pursuit of honor and discipline. But her way shattered all of that.
Her sword was completely unorthodox—an entire philosophy built around herself, driven by instinct and intent rather than tradition or honor. He knew Shirayuki had developed most of her technique on her own, and it was a shame. As frustrating as it was to admit, he couldn’t deny that her understanding of the sword existed on a separate level altogether.
If only she had been born in the Ascalon Empire, perhaps the Imperial Family might have truly understood what a force she was.
At that moment, Thalor stepped in, a smile spreading across his face that never reached his eyes.
“If either of you intend to fight, do it somewhere that isn’t my office.”
His voice remained light, but the edge beneath it was anything but.
“My desk is far too expensive to be caught in your little scuffle.”
Armis was the first to withdraw his intent, clicking his tongue softly as he looked away.
“It seems you’ve gone senile,” Shirayuki scoffed. “The old you would’ve drawn your sword already.”
“Don’t misunderstand,” Armis replied. “I’m here for my grandson. I don’t have time to indulge you. But I heard some interesting news from Thalor…”
He glanced at her. “Did you really take someone under your wing?”
Shirayuki’s gaze snapped to Thalor, who quickly averted his eyes like a child caught in the act.
Him… and that blasted mouth of his. I swear I’m going to rip it off one day.
She knew it was only a matter of time before the rumors reached the high-ranking noble houses, especially after their arrival at the academy. But having the Sword Saint himself poking around was different. She would very much prefer to keep the specifics of their relationship under wraps a little longer.
“What does that have to do with you?”
Armis’ lips curled faintly.
“Relax. You’re acting like I’m about to steal him away.”
He glanced at her sidelong. “I’m just surprised you chose to take someone in at all.”
“The White Phantom—known for attacking anyone who dared approach like a rabid dog—actually playing the mentor. What a joke.”
The surprise wasn’t unwarranted. Shirayuki had never once passed on her sword to another, nor bothered trying to teach it. Most people simply couldn’t grasp it. Even Kaelthas, for all his skill, found it nearly impossible to replicate.
“So who is he?” Armis asked, his tone edged with curiosity. “The fact that you actually decided to take someone in at all says he must be a prodigy.”
Shirayuki remained silent, unwilling to reveal more. Armis merely sighed at her stubbornness.
“Give it up,” Thalor muttered, leaning back in his chair. “She’s not going to say a word. At this point, she’s basically treating him like her own son, with how fiercely she’s protecting him.”
“If you’re finished prying into my affairs,” Shirayuki said, ignoring Thalor’s jab, “I’d suggest you worry less about my choices and more about your own. Age has made you chatty.”
Thalor pushed himself up from the chair, stretching his shoulders.
“All right. I assume you two are done catching up. Let’s go—I still have to give a speech for the opening ceremony.”
…
After Kaelon and I entered the building, we were handed our Academy uniforms and told to change. Stepping out, I glanced down at my new attire—white shirt and tie, blazer with the Academy insignia, and matching trousers.
Honestly, now that I looked at it, I kind of liked the aesthetic.
Looking around, I saw others dressed the same way, the girls’ uniforms following the same design on top, only swapping the trousers for skirts.
I spotted Kaelon in the crowd and made my way toward him, absently tucking a few stray bangs back into place as I fixed my hair. He gave me a long, appraising look from head to toe, his scowl deepening as he muttered something under his breath.
“What?” I asked, tilting my head. “Something on my face?”
A few nearby students glanced over, whispering among themselves for reasons I couldn’t explain.
“I don’t know if you’re doing this on purpose,” Kaelon muttered, his scowl softening into weary exasperation, “or if you’re just genuinely dense.”
“No, seriously. What are you talking about?”
“Forget it. Let’s go,” he said, shaking his head.
Following the rest of the crowd, we entered the assembly hall. Sunlight poured through tall stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the polished floor. Seating rose in tiers along both sides, the upper levels overlooking the main floor, all drawing the eye toward the raised dais at the far end.
At the front, the professors were gathering, and I caught sight of Auntie Shira among them. Nearby, ten students sat apart from the rest, occupying the seats closest to the stage.
At first, I was confused as to why they weren’t sitting with the rest of us, but as more whispers floated through the crowd, I realized—they probably weren’t ordinary students.
I assume they were upperclassmen, judging by the confidence in their posture and the way they carried themselves.
One of them, in particular, stood out. His ash-gray hair caught the sunlight in faint silver glints, framing a sharp face. Even among the ten, something about him didn’t quite fit with the rest.
I stared at him, my mind was wandering, when he suddenly snapped his head in my direction. I wasn’t sure how he had noticed me—he held his gaze for a few seconds before turning back.
‘I should really stop doing that… At this rate, I’m going to be accused of being a creep.’
Once the last students settled in, Headmaster Thalor walked up the stage. The murmurs and chatter slowly faded as everyone focused their attention forward.
Headmaster Thalor cleared his throat, his voice echoing through the assembly hall.
“Welcome, students, faculty, and honored guests, to the beginning of a new academic year at Ascalon Academy.”
“As you may already know, my name is Thalor Pendragon, the current Headmaster of this esteemed institution, and I would like to begin by congratulating all the first-year students who successfully passed the entrance examination and earned a place at this prestigious academy.”
He paused for a moment as loud cheering and applause erupted throughout the hall, the sound echoing off the polished floors and high ceilings. I followed along with the crowd, clapping my hands, before the clamor gradually subsided.
“As we begin to welcome both new and returning students into our…honor…next…exceed…”
Headmaster Thalor continued with his speech, but as time passed, the words began to blend together—the content wasn’t interesting enough to hold my attention. Most of it was just the same information I’d already heard from the professors while preparing for the entrance exam.
I rested my chin on my hand, leaning my elbow against the arm of the chair, letting my eyes wander. By the time Headmaster Thalor finally finished, I was on the verge of dozing off, only to be jolted awake by the loud applause that swept through the audience.
Just as I thought it was finally over, he added, “Before we officially conclude, one of The Ten Stars would like to address you all.”
‘Ten Stars…?’
My drowsiness evaporated, replaced with subtle curiosity. Headmaster Thalor stepped aside, and the ash-gray-haired upperclassman from earlier stood, walking toward the front of the stage with an ease that drew every eye in the hall.
He scanned the crowd, silence hanging in the air as everyone waited in anticipation, before finally speaking to introduce himself.
“I am Zephyr Ashford,” he said, his voice carrying throughout the hall. “One of the Ten Stars of Ascalon Academy.”
“Specifically, I am the First Star.” he continued, his tone steady, “But I hope that will not make you treat me differently. I am here as a student, just like all of you.”
A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd as everyone absorbed the revelation, students exchanging glances and quiet comments.
“Hold on… isn’t that the Sword Saint’s grandson? Actually, wait—now that I look closer, they do resemble each other.”
“He said he’s the First Star… doesn’t that mean he’s ridiculously strong?”
“Kyaaaa! He’s so handsome!”
“Do you think he’s going to be like his grandfather?”
“I wish I could move with that kind of confidence…”
Whispers bounced through the hall, a mix of awe, excitement, and curiosity, every eye subtly drawn to Zeyphr as he stood calmly at the front.
“Ascalon Academy is a place for students to pursue their goals, whether it be magecraft, swordsmanship, or any other discipline. Each of you will face challenges, some that test your skill, others that test your character.”
He paused with a gentle smile.
“How you respond to those challenges will define not just your time here, but the kind of person you become. And as one of your seniors, there is one thing I want to share with you—something I hope you take to heart.”
Suddenly, his expression darkened, any warmth extinguished, and his voice dropped,
“Do remember this—status and privileges are nothing. One’s entire worth depends on their own abilities. Failure to grasp that means getting consumed by those stronger than you.”
‘???’
