[Veliana’s POV]

The door clicked shut behind her. Above, a lone orb hovered near the ceiling, exhaled a cold, bluish light that swept across polished wood and fine lacquer.

The illumination carved soft shadows into the creases of bookshelves that stood disciplined against the walls. Every grimoire sat aligned with obsessive care.

Veliana stepped in, her pace as fluid as the confidence that radiated from her. She peeled off her gloves, then tossed them onto the desk.

On the wall, framed behind enchanted glass, were her personal records. Certificates of achievement and letters penned in formal ink by heads of division. And above it all, portraits. Dozens of it. In each one, she was draped in ceremonial white, her gaze always angled forward.

Veliana’s hand moved absently, brushing away a thin layer of dust that had dared to settle on her desk. With a soft sigh, she sank into the high-backed chair.

‘How many little fires do I have to put out today?’

She didn’t close her eyes. She couldn’t afford that kind of luxury. Even resting, her thoughts moved in sharp lines, already circling back to the joint session. A dozen things she had to manage. A hundred she couldn’t allow to go wrong.

Then came the knock.

“Come in,” she said, her voice smooth.

The door opened, and Delila stepped through, her entrance as stiff as her posture. The woman’s jaw expression wavered—tension barely stitched together by the last threads of protocol.

Delila gave a rushed, shallow bow, her head dipping just far enough to satisfy her peers before snapping up again too quickly. Her gaze lingered just below Veliana’s chin, she hadn’t yet looked her in the eyes.

Veliana watched her carefully. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ ⓝovelFire.net

“I assume you’ve come to explain,” she said, her tone almost curious.

Delila flinched, almost imperceptibly, and her eyes flicked downward to the desk. And then, they rose and met the crimson gaze that had been waiting for her. Her blonde hair was tied into a bun.

“Instructor Delila,” Veliana said, and this time her voice thinned.

“At what minute did you lose control of your class?”

The silence that followed was instant.

Delila’s lips parted, but her reply hesitated.

“There was a bit resistance,” she said finally, the words dry, compacted by tension. “The scholars—It escalated before I—”

“Resistance?” Veliana echoed.

She leaned back, the shift in posture subtle but unmistakably final, folding her hands across her lap as if making time for something unpleasant.

Her eyes did not leave Delila’s.

“You couldn’t manage the resistance of Class E scholars and yet you campaign to oversee Class A?”

The air collapsed between them.

‘This is the standard. If she can’t hold the reins on a stage like this, she has no business near the spotlight.’

Delila’s throat moved as she swallowed. Her hands curled at her side, then unclenched.

“Leave, I don’t want to hear any excuses. Send me the report. Everything that happened in your hall.”

Delila hesitated, just for a breath. Then came the bow, sharper this time that reeked of retreat rather than respect.

“I… I understand. I’ll prepare the report for Hall B,” she said, her voice scraping together the last remnants of formality before she turned and exited through the door.

Veliana allowed herself a breath, then her fingers drifted toward the manacrystal embedded at the edge of her desk. The crystal responded with low thrum, and the wall to her left came alive with a shimmer of static.

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Then, clarity—an unfolding projection, a composite of visual recordings from the joint session. Angled feeds hovered midair, each marked with timestamps, segments, and layers of analysis.

Her gaze moved past the chaos.

She found Rosalin’s match in seconds. Watched the initial stance, the first clash of blade and spell, and the ripples it caused in the room. But her eyes weren’t on Rosalin. They slid to the side of the screen. There, seated quietly, almost forgettably, was a boy.

Dark hair, pale skin that caught the glow of the overhead orb. His training attire was the same standard black, but something about him felt out of step with the rest.

‘Is this the scholar that Delila mentioned who had challenged my sessions? Hmm….’

In the second match, he walked over to two others—teammates, presumably—and said something low, quiet, unrecorded.

Veliana’s eyes narrowed further.

“How come Delila can't handle even a single scholar from Class E? I have take a look at the video of their argument later.” Veliana murmured.

Her hand moved again, she slid open the bottom drawer of her desk, revealing a neat stack of cream-colored dossiers she had organized earlier in the week.

Files she had no intention of showing to anyone else. Fingers drifted across their edges until they landed on the one she had prepared with meticulous care.

She pulled the document free.

Violet—a scholar from Class E.

The name was printed in clean, serif type, formal and anonymous. The contents, though… those were another matter entirely.

She flipped the file open and ran her thumb across the top page, eyes briefly skimming the lines of recorded aptitude, falsified transfer histories, and a note she herself had added in fine, slanted penmanship: Background unverifiable. Investigate further under restricted clearance.

“I set this entire session to watch her. To know more about her. She is also an unshaken one. I was surprised to see she stood up to Julian Rozenberg. I wondered if it was because of ‘that’?”

Veliana leaned back, letting the edges of the file fan open across her desk.

‘Anyway, if she is who the whispers say she is… then, this truth could have shocked the whole empire.’

And yet…

Her eyes drifted back to the hovering display, to the soft glow of the projection flickering on the wall. The boy was still there. Moving now. Crossing the arena floor with the same quiet certainty as before.

The focus zoomed in slightly, drawing him into clarity.

Veliana tapped her fingers lightly against the manacrystal. The feed shimmered briefly, a quiet pulse confirming that the footage had been saved.

Then, softly, she whispered to herself.

“I created this session to test Violet, and yet who would have thought that I was distracted by something else entirely. I wonder what the boy had said to make Delila back away.”

Her lips curved, just slightly.

***

[Bonus: Participate In The Joint-Session Completed.]

[You have successfully made your name known.]

[Bonus Rewards: +400 Plot Points | +10 Maximum Mana Essence]

[Updated Status: Mana Essence 100 / 190]

‘Oh, the bonus was even better than I expected. It's worth the chaos.’

Class E Scholars walked down the corridor, on their way back to their class. Not all of them were here as some were still in the infirmary. And they were surprisingly loud like a pack of stunned fools trying to laugh their way through disbelief.

Ruvian walked a few paces behind them.

“Jareth! That stone spike… where the hell did that come from?!”

One of the boys called, half-laughing, half-scolding.

“I thought he’d cut you in two, but you didn’t flinch at all. Are you insane?” another voice added, full of breathless admiration.

Jareth, unsurprisingly, basked in it. He puffed up like a rooster who’d just discovered he had wings.

“Oh, please. That was a tactical genius, thank you very much. I just happened to be standing where the wind wanted me to be.” he said, tossing his hair back with a flick of his hand.

Ruvian resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

‘Wow, look at him go...’

Noelle walked with more restraint. Her steps were light and composed. Two girls from their class gravitated toward her, speaking in excited bursts.

“That Shadow-spell you did—it was beautiful. You literally vanished. I also didn't know that you can also apply it to your teammate.”

Noelle replied:

“I can but that spell is only limited to a single person for now.”

“But that was freaking smart! That guy from Class A didn't expect Ruvian to vanish with your shadow-spell!”

Noelle’s gaze flicked toward the back. She didn’t turn her head, but her voice carried just enough for the next words to be heard clearly.

“I see, thanks but it wasn’t my plan. It was Ruvian’s. We shared each other's specialty and he was the one who planted it all. If I’m being honest, I was quite surprised with how it all turned out well.”

(+20PP)

As if on cue, the girls turned slightly, half-curious, half-hesitant. Their gazes drifted backward toward the boy who had walked alone this entire time.

“Ahh… Ruvian..”

Their voices lower into a whisper now so Ruvian couldn't hear much of what they're talking about… but judging from the mood and their expressions—Ruvian could tell it was probably about him and what he did to instructor Delila.

Challenging an instructor’s authority is no small feat in Velthia Academy after all.

Ruvian wanted to sigh.

‘She doesn't have to give me the credit though. Also, why do I feel like they are afraid to look at me?’

But then, the moment passed quickly. Their attention snapped back and the corridor stretched on, the laughter continued in fits and bursts. Finally, they reached the bend where the stone darkened slightly and the light grew more sparse.

Their classroom was just ahead.

And as they were about to enter, the noise died.

Not all at once and not abruptly, like the sound had touched a wall it wasn’t allowed to pass through. A hush fell as the group saw the others—the half of their class who had been sent to Hall A instead of B.

They were already inside.

Some sat in silence, others standing by the wall with arms folded, eyes downcast. They didn’t move when the door opened. Some of them had bruises on their faces, barely covered by half-dried salves.

The energy that had carried them this far seemed to drain out of the room. The Class E from Hall B hesitated, caught mid-step between pride and guilt.

However, Ruvian ignored them all and stepped in first.

PP = 1360

ME = 190