Chapter 23: Counter-Assault.

"In the crucible of combat, where darkness meets light, swords sing a melody only the brave can hear, and the air fills with secrets that only blood can reveal." —Excerpt from Volume 1 of The Reborn Hero

Aurora Vortex's Perspective.

Days earlier.

Her violet eyes stared with cold apathy at a dark wooden desk, carved with unique engravings. In silence, her thoughts toyed with the idea of setting it on fire. Her hands clutched her staff so tightly that her knuckles betrayed her tension. In front of her, only a note and a student file rested on the desk. The desk's owner? Disappeared to who-knew-where.

Aurora sighed in exasperation. She hadn't slept well the night before; hours spent poring over books and grimoires had left her drained as she searched for and annotated information to aid her apprentice. Their last conversation made it clear he lacked a general understanding of magic—a fact that was, admittedly, understandable. The boy himself had confessed to being of commoner origins. While not inherently limiting, such a background was rare among the Academy's students. That he had managed to gain entry despite this was already a testament to his intellect.

Anyone would assume the file was about him: Brián Morningstar. Somehow, her mentor already knew about her decision to take the young man under her tutelage. The clues were there, lying plainly before her, impossible to ignore. With a mix of annoyance and resignation, Aurora shook her head. Her mentor had a way of uncovering such things—a knack for being a thorough meddler.

If the file was there, it was meant for her to see. Carmele had clearly known she would come asking for something, but she had inconveniently vanished before Aurora arrived. Left with no alternative, Aurora picked up the file, allowing herself to be consumed by every detail, memorizing each tidbit without even trying—she was always good at that.

The first thing to catch her eye was an impeccable photograph. The childlike face in the image radiated vitality: short, well-groomed hair, healthy skin, and eyes brimming with joy. It was a stark contrast to the boy she now knew. Today, Brián's hair was long and unkempt, dark circles underscored his weary eyes, and his pale complexion teetered on the edge of sickliness. Aurora pursed her lips in disapproval. She wasn't one to focus on appearances, but she considered a transformation in her apprentice's image a priority. If he'd once looked that presentable, he could do so again.

The file continued with outstanding academic notes: among the top ten of his first year—a remarkable achievement in an environment dominated by noble offspring. However, his physical performance was sorely lacking: dead last in every test. Aurora frowned. She had witnessed the boy's agility and reflexes—enough to place him at least in the average range. This discrepancy could only be explained by one detail: his Innate Ability. It was plausible he had awakened it recently, which would account for the inconsistencies.

In their last discussion, they had touched on his Innate Ability but not on the exact timing of its manifestation. An ability that, in summary, could ignite the greed of even Eldoria's King. The power to assign a percentage of probability to himself or inanimate objects was, in simple terms, insanity.

The only solace was that its usage was limited: once per day, and bound by the limitations of his current body. Yet, if Brián managed to overcome those barriers, his potential would be unimaginably terrifying. The clearest example was that, for now, he couldn't assign a percentage of instant death with a mere touch. According to his exact words, "My body wouldn't hold up—it'd snap like a dry twig." The topics of soul damage, mental strain, and imbuing such death-inflicting power into an inanimate object were unexplored for now, but in time, they would delve into them.

Brián had many suggestions for employing his ability: targeting souls directly, dimensional slashes, unfailing strikes, and something as terrifying and enigmatic as the rumored anti-magic—a tale from bygone eras dismissed as a children's myth. Aurora couldn't help but smile faintly at her apprentice's ambition. Yet the dream of realizing those concepts hinged on one factor: strength. Brián needed to grow far stronger to achieve his goals—or at least, that was her belief, and that was what she had told him.

She turned the page and felt her demeanor darken.

"Parents: deceased. Currently orphaned, residing in the Seraphin dormitories free of charge."

Reading further deepened the shadows in her gaze. Aurora tightened her grip on her staff, the wood creaking faintly under the pressure of her fingers, but it held firm. The more details she read, the clearer her understanding of her apprentice became.

The boy shared a pain she knew all too well: the complete loss of a home. Brián was one of only two survivors of a demon invasion that had obliterated his village. Aurora, too, had lost everything as a child. She had been only five years old when demons invaded her home. By a stroke of luck—or perhaps fate—she had managed to summon Meru, an ancient spirit who became her steadfast companion.

The memory made her tighten her grip further, her hardened expression reflecting her utter rejection of the absurd reasoning behind such massacres. "The reason," she thought bitterly, "is irrelevant. I am human, and that's all that matters."

She placed the file back on the desk, having read it in its entirety. Now, she could sympathize more deeply with her apprentice—or rather, she could better understand why she already liked him so much despite barely knowing him. They shared similar pasts, and unknowingly, that had helped forge a bond between master and apprentice. A faint smile appeared on her lips; that boy already possessed admirable mental fortitude to keep moving forward after enduring such horrors.

She hadn't become unkind, as Carmele often accused her of being; it was simply that her social energy hadn't grown at the same pace as she had. The smile faded as she picked up the note lying on the desk. The paper bore handwriting that could easily be mistaken for a child's, accompanied by a terrible drawing of Carmele winking.

*"I know you wanted to approach me to talk about your new and adorable apprentice, but something important came up, so please cover for me this time.

P.S. You make me proud. I knew you'd see what I see. Thanks for doing me this little favor. Sincerely, the most beautiful woman on the planet."*

Aurora crumpled the paper in her hand and incinerated it with a simple thought. "Master, you are truly hopeless," she muttered, resisting the urge to slam her face into the desk. "What kind of favor could you possibly want me to do so you can slack off wherever you are?" she asked aloud as her eyes lazily scanned the intricate and detailed illusion that covered the vice principal's office.

Perhaps she could let a small spell accidentally ruin the pretty illusion. Who could say? Accidents happened all the time. A pity her plan couldn't proceed, because...

The office's only door swung open wide, allowing a powerful gust of wind to rush in, shaking the room and causing fluctuations in the illusion.

"Carmele, we have a problem!"

The raspy voice of a man boomed like thunder, laden with power, making the room tremble. Instinctively, Aurora raised her guard slightly. She turned, revealing no visible panic, though her heart leapt to her throat in surprise. What she saw could only be described as a giant—over three meters tall, with shoulders as broad as her entire skull.

She immediately recognized the newcomer. How could she not, when it was the renowned academy director? A Folkmmurd of the Antler race, with blue-gray skin, a prominent white beard and hair, and antlers that could only be described as majestic. He was Ordyr Blackthorne, nicknamed the "God of Combat," and the most powerful warrior of the present age.

"I regret to inform you that the vice principal is currently unavailable," Aurora said, tilting her head back to look up at the imposing director. Damn it... she had to crane her neck far too much, feeling like an ant compared to him. Ordyr examined the small, purple-haired figure standing by the desk.

"Oh? And who might you be?" he asked, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he tried to recall. If this person was here, it meant she must be someone important—after all, not just anyone could enter this office with the barriers in place.

A pity that his question went unanswered before a piece of paper, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, lazily floated toward him.

Ordyr caught the note without even glancing at it, the paper looking almost comically small in his massive fingers. With a single glance, he read its contents as swiftly as a lightning bolt. Then, suddenly, he erupted into laughter, his majestic beard swaying with every booming chuckle.

"I see. So, you're that disciple Carmele mentioned once. And since she's not here, it falls on you to take her place," the director declared.

With a measured step, he approached, his towering three-meter height becoming even more imposing.

"Let me introduce myself properly. I am Ordyr Blackthorne. And you, young lady?" he said, extending his massive hand for a handshake.

"Aurora Vortex," she replied, shaking the director's hand. The scene was absurd—like a giant trying to grasp a baby's hand. The strength of his grip could have pulverized rocks, yet Aurora remained unfazed. Such things didn't bother her enough to make a fuss.

"Since you're currently also serving as a temporary instructor at this academy, you're more than qualified for the mission ahead," Ordyr declared with confidence.

Aurora barely resisted the urge to frown. This man, much like her master, was already assuming she'd assist in whatever plan they were concocting. And honestly, what kind of verification process was this?

Full of curiosity, the director stepped over to the desk and picked up the file resting there. In the blink of an eye, he finished reading its contents.

"You want to request an academic extension for a first-year student. That's quite intriguing. Care to explain why?"

Of course, she had no intention of revealing the truth. The nature of Illumination was a matter she'd trust only to Carmele.

"He has a great deal of potential. It would be a shame not to refine it in time," she replied, offering a half-truth convincing enough to satisfy Ordyr's curiosity.

The director nodded, seemingly satisfied.

"Is that why you've taken him as your apprentice?" he probed, digging a little deeper.

Aurora confirmed with a slight nod, careful not to reveal more than necessary. That scribbled note already contained more information than she was comfortable with.

Placing the file back on the desk, Ordyr stroked his prominent beard, a calculating smile playing on his lips.

"Very well. If you assist me, the extension is yours. You can take the boy for the remainder of the year. Just ensure he's back before the end-of-year festival."

Ordyr was far from simple-minded. Behind his powerful fists lay a sharp intellect. If Carmele and her protégé were this invested in a first-year student, there had to be something unusual about him. He wanted to see it for himself, which was why he tied the condition to the festival.

Ordyr didn't usually care if students left for extended periods. In fact, many did. The requirement to advance wasn't perfect attendance but passing the exams for each subject. Where the knowledge came from was irrelevant, as long as it was correct. However, Carmele mentioning a boy out of the blue? That wasn't common.

His curiosity had been piqued, a trait that had landed him in plenty of trouble in his younger days. Now, he wanted to see that boy at the festival. Since the situation intrigued him, there was no way Brián wouldn't participate. One way or another, he'd ensure it. After all, he had his own methods.

Nothing revitalized the soul like a good expulsion threat.

"Do my terms sound acceptable?" he asked with a touch of gravity.

Aurora didn't waste much time deliberating.

"They're acceptable," she replied without hesitation.

After all, she had already fallen into her master's trap, who was likely lazing about somewhere as usual. This wasn't the first time such schemes had caught her, and she doubted it would be the last.

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The author speaking here.

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