The tension in the air thickened like a brewing storm. Mana pulsed from Karl's fingertips, raw and unchecked. His core glowed brighter with every step he took toward Arin, casting flickering shadows across the dirt path. The students, previously full of mirth, now watched in morbid anticipation.
Arin didn't move. He kept his eyes lowered, shoulders slouched, appearing weak and helpless.
But inside, his mind raced. His body was still aching, but not broken. His years of surviving the wilds had taught him to endure worse. He had faced beasts, starvation, storms—but this was different. This was a different kind of beast: entitlement wrapped in noble blood.
Karl raised his arm higher.
"You should have stayed in your filth," he sneered. "This world isn't for people like you."
Mana condensed into his palm, forming a shimmering dagger of energy.
Just as he prepared to strike—
"Enough."
The word was quiet but carried weight. Lyselle stepped forward again, her expression no longer soft. Her voice resonated with authority.
"Karl, he's not worth it."
"He humiliated me!" Karl growled.
"He humbled himself. You humiliated yourself," she replied, her eyes steady.
Karl hesitated, rage flickering in his eyes. But with all the attention now drawn to him, he felt the stares of the others—some confused, some disgusted. He grit his teeth and threw the mana blade to the ground where it sizzled and vanished.
But then his expression twisted cruelly.
"You all want to know the real reason I hate this rat?" Karl said, turning to the others. "He sold his academy seat. To me. My father paid him off so I could take his spot at the Awakening Trials. This beggar had potential, they said. Talent. But he threw it away for a few coins. A pathetic, cowardly waste of life."
Gasps echoed around the students.
"You mean…?"
"He could've been one of us?"
Arin's fists trembled. His lips remained shut.
Karl stepped closer. "And now he dares to crawl back into the light, as if he belongs there?"
He raised his hand and slapped Arin across the face. "You're filth. Stay in the mud."
Arin stumbled back but stayed on his feet. He didn't retaliate. Not yet.
"Come on," Karl sneered. "Beg again. Crawl. Maybe I'll forgive you."
Arin dropped to his knees without hesitation. "Please," he said, voice dry. "Forgive me."
Laughter erupted. Some students threw scraps of food at him, others mocked his posture.
Karl turned triumphantly. "This is where trash belongs."
Lyselle, however, didn't laugh. Her eyes shimmered with something between pity and fury.
She walked up beside Arin and placed her hand on his shoulder. Her mana flared, and a small barrier shimmered around them, shielding him from further humiliation.
"Enough, all of you," she said.
Karl scowled. "You dare side with him?"
"I dare to stand for what's right," she said. "You may wear your father's name, but you will never carry his honor."
Karl flinched but turned away, storming off with the others.
Lyselle leaned down to Arin, her voice soft. "I'm sorry for what they did. And… for what my family did."
Arin raised his head slowly, pain etched into every corner of his face.
"I didn't sell my seat to survive," he whispered. "I sold it to keep my parents alive."
Lyselle looked at him for a long moment before standing. "Then you've already done more than most nobles ever will."
She left him with that, walking into the horizon.
And for the first time in a long while, Arin didn't feel like the dirt beneath their boots.
He felt like the ember that might one day set their thrones ablaze.
As he picked up the remaining scraps of the boar and slung them into a ragged satchel, Arin walked in silence. Then a bitter smile curled on his lips.
Karl O. Chres. The son of the man who bought his academy seat. Fate really did have a cruel sense of humor.
Arin chuckled under his breath and tightened his grip on the satchel.
"Let's go sell this meat," he murmured. "This beggar's still got work to do."