"Seth, call back your direwolf," Director Ryehill said, glancing at Nightmare. "Contracted beasts aren’t allowed out without a teacher's permission."

  Seth moved the direwolf back into his necklace and bowed. "Sorry, sir."

  The director turned to Quill, who was scrambling to his feet. "Mister Seralp, you're expelled. Go grab your belongings and leave the academy immediately."

  The noble opened his mouth, yet his protest died in his throat and his head dropped. After shooting a venomous glare at Seth, he left the cafeteria, fists clenched at his sides.

  Around them, many students were gaping, disbelief etched into their faces. Was it the direwolf's appearance that still shocked them—or the fact that yet noble had just been expelled because of the same commoner? Seth couldn't quite tell.

  "Seth, come with me," the director said, turning away.

  Seth glanced back at Elena, Devus, and Jenna. Both the young women's eyes were filled with concern and worry, while the Guardian bore a broad grin—probably because of Nightmare.

  "I'll see you all later," Seth muttered with a wave before following the director.

  '' Nightmare asked through Link.

  '' Seth answered. ''

  ''

  Seth looked at the director's back in front of him. ''

  As he trailed the man through the corridors, he felt surprisingly calm.

  he thought, going through the academy’s benefits like the shop, the Trial Tower, and the knowledge. Though with Nightmare now Iron, it didn’t matter as much as before.

  Besides, he had already decided he wouldn’t stay for the full three years. He was only waiting for Spell Crafting, which was given during the first session of the second year—then he’d be gone.

  From what he’d heard, the class didn’t go nearly as deep as the nobles’ version, but it still offered useful insights to build and fuse grooves. Once he got what he needed from it, there would be no reason to stay and deal with all the nobles' bullshit.

  They stopped before a large, heavy wooden door adorned with carvings of two giant eagles, and the director gestured for Seth to enter. The office inside was sophisticated: rich mahogany furniture, bookshelves lined with ancient tomes, and portraits of both Gods and what seemed like powerful Wielders graced the walls.

  Light filtered through large, arched windows and cast a soft glow on the large desk in the middle of the room. Director Ryehill settled into a high-backed chair, his fingers steepling as his eyes bore into Seth. "Sit down."

  As Seth took a seat, the man began, not wasting even a second: "You and your direwolf killed a noble yesterday."

  The director's intense gaze made Seth's throat tighten. "He—he tried to kill me first, sir. I was just defending myself. When I saw how badly he was injured, I tried to save him with a Healing Potion, but it didn't work."

  "You left him in the Savage Grassland with part of his throat melted," the director said, leaning forward, elbows on his desk and hands joined together. "Do you really think the Seralp House believes you tried to save him?"

  "No… sir," Seth replied, his teeth clenching as he forced himself to stay quiet. he thought bitterly.

  "I know Roland ambushed you with William Sert, so in a sense his death is on him," Director Ryehill continued. "But that’s not how it works. Some Houses out there expect you to just bare your neck and take it if one of their kin wants you dead. They believe that everyone's Path is decided at birth, and that a noble's Path is... superior. That it deserves to stand above a commoner's above their very life. It’s not a view that my House and I share, but there isn't much I can do about it."

  Director Ryehill let out a weary sigh, rubbing his short beard. "My life would be a lot easier right now if Professor Reat hadn't stepped in. I’ll be honest, Seth, I initially thought he was messing with me when he asked me to convince the board not to expel you. That man’s always had his share of unconventional ideas, but this… this was something else. Risking the academy’s relationship with a House for a first-year student? That’s reckless."

  "I'm sorry for the inconveniences, sir."

  The director’s eyes closed briefly, and his expression softened. "Do you know, Seth, how many Primalists have graduated from this academy?"

  "Um, I don't know, sir," Seth answered, unsure why that was relevant. "Ten?"

  The director shook his head. "Zero. They all either died hunting arcane beasts, got expelled for falling too far behind, or dropped out on their own. Not a single one made it to third year. That's the price that comes with this high-risk high-reward class. The ones who do well tend to push too hard, and eventually, they get killed. Of course, things aren’t the same everywhere. In other nations, where there are more Primalists, more specialized curriculums, fewer restrictions from their kings and leaders, they can afford to do things differently. But here? We simply can’t."

  The words echoed in Seth’s mind, though he didn’t dare to ask about those.

  A tense silence followed for a few seconds, then the director continued, "I understand why Professor Reat is interested in you. Contracting a Tenebrous Direwolf at your Tier is unheard of. That beast alone would make you stand out"—Director Ryehill’s face hardened as he momentarily paused—"but I still don't think it's worth going against the Seralp House."

  Seth swallowed, unsure how to respond. The director stared at him for an instant, then stood up and walked to a nearby window to look outside at the garden. "He sees your beast as your potential, but I don't. At the end of the contract with it, you’ll just be a normal Primalist."

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  "I believe he also sees potential in me, sir," Seth answered, politely correcting the director. Professor Reat's actions weren't just about Nightmare but also the Draerian blood that flowed in Seth’s veins. "He wouldn't have stood up for me or brought me into the Champions of Chaos, if he didn't."

  "Maybe," the director replied with a shrug, facing Seth while leaning on the window frame. "He also told me about your two-week-off plan. Frankly, I doubt it’ll change much… other than tarnishing the academy’s reputation even more. Primalists like you would need a whole month off to hunt every semester, just to keep up with the other students."

  Seth pressed his lips together, reading between the lines. The director wasn’t keen on letting him stay at the academy if his presence would bring troubles. Then, like a bolt of lightning, an idea hit Seth, and his eyes widened. Nightmare, reading his thoughts, jumped onto his paws eagerly within the necklace.

  "Then… would it be possible, sir, for me to actually try that?"

  "A month off?" the director asked, frowning. "Why would I allow that?"

  "It could ease the tension with House Seralp without expelling me, sir," Seth suggested. "First, they'd believe I've been suspended, which maintains the academy's image. But more importantly,they'll come after me outside the academy walls instead of risking upsetting you by doing it here. If they don’t succeed, they could just try again when I leave again. Either way, they won’t complain as much, since they’ll have plenty of chances to kill me. Professor Reat will also get what he wants."

  "That's… not a bad idea," the director admitted before thinking for a moment. "But you realize no professors will make any concessions for you, right?"

  Seth nodded. "Yes, sir. I’ll work twice as hard as any other student to keep up with my classes."

  "I hope so," the director answered. "Even if Professor Reat likes you, you'll still be expelled if you fail any of your classes."

  "Understood, sir."

  Seth’s fingers clenched tightly around his knees as he realized the situation he’d put himself in. Even if he didn’t get killed by the Seralp House, odds are he could still be expelled from the academy before he could reach the second year and the spell-crafting class. Even with Jenna and Elena’s help—particularly the noble’s—he had barely passed last week’s final exams.

  The director pushed himself up with a sigh. "It’s a deal, then."

  "Thank you, sir," Seth answered. "I won't disappoint you."

  After a brief nod, Director Ryehill glanced toward his office’s door. "You may leave."

  "Have a good day, sir."

  Seth bowed to the man before hurrying out, heading back to the dorm tower. Since he’d be gone for a month, the least he could do was say a proper goodbye to Devus, Elena, and Jenna.

  His footsteps echoed in the hallways, small light-lamps hanging from the ceiling casting a continuous, soft glow. As he turned a corner, he nearly collided with Lucius, who was casually leaning against the wall next to a door.

  The noble's blond ponytail swished while he turned his head, a smug grin exuding sheer arrogance on his face. "If it isn't my favorite Primalist. I must say, I'm surprised you came back to the city in one piece. But I guess that stupid Guardian and Roland were both weak."

  Seth met the Elementalist’s gaze, keeping his expression flat. "I guess they were"

  The noble's blue eyes glinted with malice as he pushed himself off the wall. "I thought you would be running like a frightened rat. That's good news for the people of your little town. I won't have to ask my House's tax collectors to make their lives... difficult, just to smoke you out of your hole."

  A knot of dread tightened in Seth’s stomach. He knew Lucius had likely not done anything yet to avoid further reprimands from his father after the incident at Arthuri, but that restraint wouldn't last forever.

  He needed a distraction. Something to keep Lucius's eyes fixed solely on him and away from Renwal, Mael, and the townsfolk.

  "I have no intention of hiding," Seth said calmly, stepping closer to the noble. "In fact, I have an offer."

  Lucius raised an eyebrow, letting out a short, dismissive laugh. "An offer?"

  "A wager," Seth said, his voice steady. "We settle this during the Spring Tournament. If we face each other and you win, I’ll stop fighting back. I’ll offer you my neck. Right there on the sand, or wherever you want."

  "And if you win?" Lucius scoffed.

  "You drop the capture order. You leave me and my town alone."

  "Hmm." Lucius crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly. "What makes you think, bumpkin, that we’ll ever face each other? What if you get knocked out in the qualifiers before you even reach me? "

  "Then we duel anyway," Seth retorted instantly. "We can do an exhibition match before the finals in front of all the spectators you want. Or we find a place where you can try to kill me yourself." He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Don't you want to be the one to do it, Lucius? Prove to your House—and everyone else—that you didn't need hired help to put a commoner in his place?"

  Lucius stared at him, the bait hanging in the air.

  Seth knew the truth, of course. Even if he won, Lucius wouldn't drop the order. A noble like him wouldn't honor a deal with a 'peasant.' But that didn't matter. The goal wasn't to make Lucius honorable; it was to buy time. If Lucius accepted, he would spend the next month obsessing over the tournament, training to humiliate Seth, rather than sending people to Sunatown.

  And hopefully, during that month, Seth could gather enough coin to boost the town's mutual fund and help the villagers move to another House's territory—removing them as easy leverage.

  Before Seth could press further, the familiar chill of Identify washed over him. He responded with his own spell.

  Seth noted inwardly, hiding his surprise. Gaining the last three Ranks of the Copper Tier in three months was fast, even for a noble.

  Lucius' eyes briefly widened, then he scoffed. "Seems like you've managed to get a sponsor."

  "I haven't," Seth retorted, his mouths’ corner twitching upwards. "But thanks for the… compliment, I guess."

  The noble's expression darkened, and his smile vanished. "Don't take me for a fool. How many years of your miserable life did you sell into service? Twenty? Forty?"

  "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Lucius," Seth answered with a shrug. "So? Do we have a deal? Or do you prefer hiding behind your servants?"

  Lucius's eyes narrowed for an instant. "Fine. But when you're kneeling in the dirt, begging for mercy, remember that you asked for this."

  "I won't forget."

  Just as Lucius opened his mouth,to add another threat, but the door beside them flew open. A man stepped out, tall and powerfully built, with sharp features and blond hair that mirrored Lucius’. He wore the dark crimson uniform of the academy’s instructors and a few military medals hung from his chest pocket—Sergeant Faertis, the Guardian instructor of their Combat Theory class… and Lucius’ brother.

  "Lucius, inside. Now," he barked.

  The Elementalist glared at Seth, and his lips twisted into a sinister smile. "If you ever feel like Rift Diving before our duel, let me know. I might know a group of adventurers that could someone like you—"

  Before the noble could finish, his brother cuffed him sharply on the shoulder, then turned to Seth, fixing him with a cold gaze. "And you, you’d best be on your way."

  With a final sneer, Lucius disappeared into the room with his brother. Seth stood there for a moment, letting out the breath he'd been holding.

  It was a dangerous gamble, but it bought Sunatown a reprieve.

  Whispers followed him like a shadow as Seth walked back to the dorm tower, punctuated by sidelong glances from other students. They murmured and pointed at him, their eyes tracking each of his steps. Keeping his head high, he ignored them. Even if he knew no one would dare act after Director Ryehill’s intervention, a single thought still burned in Seth’s mind: getting stronger. And fast.

  The moment he reached his room, he pushed the door open and stepped inside before rooting into place—Jenna and Elena sat on his bed while Devus lounged in his chair by the window. They all immediately turned toward him, and a large smile spread on Devus' tan face.

  "You got shit to explain, mate."

  January 15, 2026 (8h30PM ET)

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