51- The Rise of Raven’s Nest

Aldric Returns to Raven's Nest

As Aldric stepped out of his father's study, the cool evening air of Ravensbourne greeted him. He let out a deep breath, his sharp eyes scanning the familiar sights of his homeland. Much had changed in his absence.

His destination was clear—the Raven's Nest, his personal endeavor and the beating heart of his vision for the future.

By the time he arrived, the transformation was undeniable. The once modest guild headquarters had expanded into a sprawling complex, still under construction, but already towering over the surrounding buildings. Master Rowan's expertise was on full display—thick stone walls reinforced with wooden beams, intricate framework to support taller structures, and spacious walkways to accommodate heavy traffic.

The number of workers and staff had doubled since he last visited. Merchants bustled in and out, commoners and nobles alike sought employment or contracts, and several academy students were deep in discussions. The reputation of Raven's Nest had exploded, and Aldric could see why.

With measured steps, he entered the main building, his presence drawing immediate attention. People paused, heads turned, and whispers spread through the halls. Some bowed in respect, others merely gawked at him in admiration.

"Lord Aldric has returned."

Aldric smiled faintly, acknowledging the murmurs with a nod before heading toward his office.

⸻

Economic Growth and Rising Prosperity

Aldric sat in his office, the warm glow of candlelight flickering over the reports spread before him. Across the table, Vincent Lorring, the sharp-witted merchant overseeing economic policies, adjusted his spectacles and tapped a thick ledger with his fingers.

"The numbers speak for themselves, my lord," Vincent began. "At first, the implementation was… difficult. The restrictions on price gouging and exploitative practices were met with resistance. Many merchants grumbled about the new regulations, and the guilds struggled under the initial financial strain. Duke Alaric himself had to step in and provide funding to keep things stable."

Aldric listened carefully, nodding for Vincent to continue.

"But then," Vincent said, a gleam in his eye, "things started to shift—rapidly. Like a landslide." He pushed the ledger forward, pages filled with meticulous records of trade, taxation, and revenue growth.

Aldric flipped through the pages, scanning the figures. The numbers painted a clear picture: rising incomes, increased trade, a surge in marketplace activity.

"Commoners, once struggling to put food on the table, can now afford to live comfortably," Vincent continued. "With fair wages and reasonable taxation, they are eating better, dressing in warmer clothes, and even setting aside savings. Some have begun investing in small businesses—tailoring shops, bakeries, pottery workshops. The economy isn't just recovering; it's booming."

Aldric leaned back slightly, processing the scope of the transformation.

Vincent smirked, as if enjoying the moment. "The academy enrollments alone are bringing in a steady income. Nobles from various factions are sending their best workers to be trained here—blacksmiths, architects, engineers, craftsmen. And since we only accept those willing to abide by our regulations, we maintain full control over pricing and trade policies."

"And the nobles?" Aldric asked, knowing that their reactions were just as crucial.

Vincent chuckled. "Oh, they hated it at first. The tax reforms cut into their ability to extort peasants. They lost their monopolies over certain goods. Many were outraged. But then, they saw the wealth being generated here. Now, they're practically begging to be part of it."

Aldric's expression darkened slightly. "We will accept only those who align with our values. Make sure our regulations are strictly enforced. If they refuse to abide, they are not welcome in our market."

Vincent inclined his head. "Understood. The merchants and nobles who have adapted are thriving. The rest? They'll either change or be left behind."

Aldric stood and moved to the window, looking out over the bustling streets of Raven's Nest. The city had changed. It wasn't just the economy—it was the people.

Outside, he saw a group of children running through the streets, their laughter filling the air. Nearby, a baker handed a fresh loaf to a woman who paid without hesitation, no longer counting every copper. Blacksmiths hammered away, producing weapons and tools with efficiency. The once-empty marketplace was now a thriving hub, filled with merchants trading goods at fair prices.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. A guard stepped in, bowing quickly. "My lord, there is… a line of farmers outside. They request an audience."

Aldric frowned slightly but nodded. "Send them in."

Moments later, a small group of farmers entered, removing their hats and bowing deeply. The eldest among them, a grizzled man with calloused hands, stepped forward hesitantly.

"My lord," he began, voice thick with emotion. "We—" He cleared his throat, gathering himself. "We just wanted to say… thank you."

Aldric blinked. "For what?"

The farmer exchanged glances with his companions before speaking again. "For everything. The new farming techniques Wulfric taught us, the fair taxes, the tools—everything you've given us has changed our lives. We don't go hungry anymore. Our children don't wake up crying from empty bellies." His voice cracked. "For the first time in our lives, we have enough. We can sell our crops and keep enough to feed our families. That's never happened before."

Another farmer, a younger man, stepped forward. "My lord, I was born into a family of serfs. Before you came, I never imagined I could own my own land. But with the new land distribution policies, I do now. It's mine. My family's. And we're not just surviving—we're living."

The eldest farmer bowed even deeper. "We just wanted to let you know. We won't forget this. And we won't waste what you've given us."

Aldric looked at the group before him. Hardworking men and women who had been shackled by a broken system. Now, they stood with dignity, with hope.

He nodded. "You earned this. I merely removed the chains that held you back."

The farmers exchanged glances before one of them hesitantly spoke again. "If there's ever anything we can do for you, my lord—just say the word. You have our loyalty."

Aldric's expression softened. "Just keep working hard. That's all I ask."

The farmers left, their steps lighter than when they had arrived.

Vincent, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, finally spoke. "You're not just running an economy, my lord. You're building a cult of some sort"

Aldric glanced at him. "I know."

Vincent grinned. "And it's only going to get bigger."

⸻

Innovations in Agriculture and Construction

Aldric quietly slipped into the lecture hall, leaning against a wooden support beam at the back of the room. He observed the students, their eyes fixed on Wulfric, who stood at the front, gesturing with a handful of dark soil.

"The key to maximizing crop yield," Wulfric explained, letting the soil trickle between his fingers, "is more than just planting seeds and hoping they grow. Proper fertilization, crop rotation, and irrigation are essential."

Aldric smirked slightly. Wulfric had come a long way. He had started as a simple farmer, but his knowledge had deepened considerably since working with Aldric.

Wulfric moved to a wooden model of a plow resting on the table. "This new plow, introduced by Lord Aldric, allows for deeper tilling of soil. The old methods barely scratched the surface, but this ensures the roots take hold better, and the soil remains healthy for longer."

A few students murmured in amazement, but one, a young man with ink-stained fingers, frowned. "But wouldn't deeper tilling disrupt the soil's natural composition?"

Aldric decided to interject, his voice calm yet firm. "That's a good question."

Heads snapped in his direction, students straightening in their seats as they noticed him. Wulfric started to acknowledge his presence formally, but Aldric gave a small wave, signaling him to continue.

Instead, Aldric stepped forward. "The natural composition of soil matters, but what happens if you plant the same crop season after season?"

The same student hesitated. "The soil… loses its ability to grow crops?"

Aldric nodded. "Exactly. That's why we use fertilizer—compost, manure, or even crushed minerals—to restore what plants take from the soil. Deeper tilling doesn't destroy composition; it ensures nutrients reach where they're needed most."

The students exchanged understanding glances. Wulfric took the opportunity to continue. "That's also why we rotate crops. Different plants consume different nutrients. If we plant wheat every season, the soil is drained of specific nutrients. But if we rotate—say, wheat one season and legumes the next—the soil naturally replenishes itself."

A young woman raised a hand. "What about water? We still rely on natural rainfall, don't we?"

Aldric grinned. "A very important point." He gestured to a wooden model of a water wheel at the side of the classroom. "That's where irrigation comes in. We've been working on an improved water wheel system that can redirect river water into artificial waterways, ensuring a steady supply even in dry seasons."

The students were awestruck, and Wulfric nodded eagerly. "No more waiting for rain. This system ensures the fields stay watered, no matter the weather."

One skeptical student muttered, "Isn't this… excessive? I mean, farming is just farming."

Aldric's expression hardened slightly. He stepped toward the student, his voice calm but firm. "And what happens when food runs out? What happens when winter comes and the harvest isn't enough?"

The student hesitated. "People starve?"

Aldric nodded. "Exactly. Farming is not just farming. It's survival. It's the backbone of every town, every city, every kingdom. Without food, everything collapses. Soldiers grow weak, craftsmen go hungry, scholars can't think straight. Farmers don't just grow crops—they sustain civilization itself."

Silence filled the room. The students absorbed his words, their expressions shifting from mild curiosity to deep contemplation.

Aldric let them sit with that thought for a moment before continuing. "But we're not just surviving. We're improving. We're building a future where no one has to starve. That's why these innovations matter."

A slow determination spread among the students. The weight of responsibility had settled on them, but so had the promise of something greater.

Then, Aldric glanced at Wulfric. "In the coming months, I'll be introducing a new material—one that will change the way we build."

Wulfric raised an eyebrow. "A new material, my lord?"

Aldric smirked. "Cement. We'll use it to build irrigation canals that last for generations. No more wooden ditches that rot or collapse. Permanent waterways, built to last."

Gasps of realization spread through the students. The implications were massive.

Wulfric grinned. "That… will change everything."

Aldric nodded. "It will. And this is just the beginning."

The students leaned forward, eager to learn more. The future of agriculture—and the kingdom itself—was about to change.

⸻

Explosive Alchemy Breakthroughs

Aldric stepped into the alchemy division for the first time, immediately met with a cacophony of bubbling flasks, clinking glass, and the unmistakable scent of burnt chemicals. The laboratory was a chaotic yet organized mess—various contraptions, half-finished experiments, and notes filled every available surface.

At the center of it all stood Caelum, the alchemy prodigy, who had been put in charge of advancing the duchy's understanding of alchemical properties. Surrounding him were three apprentices, each distinct in their own right.

Aldric had read reports about Caelum's students, but this was his first time meeting them in person. The moment they noticed him, they froze—except for Caelum, who merely grinned.

The first to speak was a sharp-eyed young man with disheveled hair and sleeves perpetually rolled up. He had the look of a commoner but carried himself with confidence. "Ah… Lord Aldric, is it?" he said, squinting. "I, uh, didn't expect you to visit the lab personally."

"That's Orion," Caelum introduced. "A talented herbalist from the town. Knows more about plants than most scholars twice his age."

Orion scoffed. "And yet, I still have to deal with this guy." He gestured at the well-dressed young man beside him, who carried an air of arrogance but looked a little too prim and proper to be handling explosives.

"Lucian von Auster," Caelum continued. "Fallen noble, former heir to a now-defunct house. He's got an ego the size of a mountain, but he's one of the best alchemists I've seen when it comes to precision work."

Lucian scoffed. "Fallen is such a crude term. I prefer 'temporarily dispossessed noble.'" He flicked imaginary dust off his pristine sleeves. "And I do not work with crude, unstable experiments. My alchemy is an art."

Aldric's eyes then settled on the last figure—a young woman with dark hair, bright golden eyes, and an unmistakable air of curiosity. Something about her presence made his instincts sharpen.

Caelum hesitated for the briefest moment before introducing her. "And this is Sylva, a foreigner who, uh… has a unique way of looking at alchemy. She's incredibly gifted when it comes to experimental mixtures."

Sylva gave a polite smile, but Aldric was no fool. He could see the minute flickers in her illusion—the faint discrepancies in how her hair moved, the subtle shift in her ears when she reacted.

An elf.

Aldric said nothing at first. Instead, he turned his attention to the table, where a pile of powdery substance lay ready for testing.

"I see you've been working on something new," he remarked.

Caelum grinned. "I've developed a stable explosive compound that could revolutionize mining. Instead of using raw manpower, controlled blasts could clear obstacles much faster."

Aldric picked up a sample, rolling it between his fingers. The composition was crude, unrefined—similar to early gunpowder but lacking certain stabilizers.

"It's missing something," he noted.

Orion's eyes widened. "You can tell just from looking at it?"

Lucian scoffed. "Unlikely. It takes careful analysis to understand alchemical properties—"

"It burns unevenly," Aldric interrupted, tapping the table's scorch marks. "That means it lacks a proper stabilizer. You need to refine the burn rate, or it will be unpredictable."

Caelum blinked. "Huh. You really do know something about chemistry."

Aldric smirked. "Enough to know when something's incomplete."

Lucian looked slightly impressed but quickly masked it with indifference. "Well, I suppose even a lord can stumble upon basic observations."

Orion rolled his eyes. "Ignore him. This is actually helpful."

Before the conversation could continue, Aldric shifted his attention back to Sylva.

"I'd like a private word with you," he said calmly.

Sylva stiffened. The others glanced between them, clearly puzzled. Caelum, however, frowned as if he already knew where this was going.

Reluctantly, Sylva nodded and followed Aldric into a quieter section of the lab. She remained composed, but he could see the tension in her posture.

"You're an elf," Aldric stated plainly.

Sylva's breath hitched for half a second, but she quickly recovered. "I don't know what you're talking about, my lord."

Aldric gave her an unimpressed look. "Your illusion is good, but not perfect. I could see through it the moment I laid eyes on you."

Sylva went silent, clearly trying to decide how to respond.

Before she could, Caelum suddenly appeared beside them, arms crossed. "I was hoping we could avoid this conversation for a while longer," he muttered.

Aldric turned to him. "So you knew."

Caelum sighed. "Of course I knew. I found her a couple weeks ago, trying to pass as a human alchemist. She's not here to cause trouble, if that's what you're worried about."

Aldric studied Sylva again. "Then why are you here?"

Sylva hesitated, then finally spoke. "Because alchemy is… different here." She clenched her hands. "Where I come from, it's rigid—traditional. There's no room for innovation, only old methods repeated endlessly. But here… Caelum showed me things I never thought possible. I wanted to learn. To understand."

Aldric remained quiet for a moment before finally speaking. "You don't need to hide from me."

Sylva blinked. "What?"

"I don't care that you're an elf," Aldric said firmly. "I care about what you contribute. If you're here to learn, to push alchemy further, then you're welcome in this lab. I won't tolerate discrimination in my domain."

Sylva looked at him as if she wasn't sure whether to believe him. She had likely spent her whole life hiding, always expecting hostility.

Caelum exhaled in relief. "Glad to hear it. Would've been annoying if I had to argue about it."

Aldric smirked. "You underestimate me."

Sylva stared at Aldric for a moment longer, then finally smiled—genuinely, this time. "Thank you, my lord."

Aldric nodded. "Now, let's see if we can't improve this explosive of yours."

As they rejoined the others, Orion was already testing new plant-based stabilizers, while Lucian begrudgingly considered adjustments. Sylva, now more at ease, eagerly joined in.

Aldric watched them all with satisfaction. The future of alchemy—and science—was in good hands.

⸻

Seraphina's First Apprentice

Aldric's next stop was Seraphina's study, where he found her seated by a grand oak desk, a thick tome open before her. Standing beside her was a young girl, her hands clasped together as if bracing for judgment. Though dressed in a servant's garb, there was something sharp in her gaze—an intelligence that belied her station.

Seraphina glanced up at Aldric and gestured toward the girl. "I found her a few weeks ago, in the castle's lower kitchens."

Aldric raised an eyebrow. "The kitchens?"

Seraphina nodded, closing the book with a soft thud. "I had gone down to retrieve some rare herbs when I saw her whispering to a dying candle flame. At first, I thought she was simply playing, but then…" She smirked and flicked her fingers. A nearby candle flared to life in response. "The flame followed her breath, bending and shifting with her emotions. No formal training, yet raw magic responded to her will."

Elise shrank slightly under their scrutiny. "I—I didn't mean to, my lady. It just… happens."

Aldric studied her carefully. She was young—perhaps no more than thirteen—but her expression was guarded, wary of the attention she was receiving. He could only imagine what would have happened if her abilities had been discovered by the wrong person. Many noble houses feared untrained mages, especially those of common birth.

Seraphina leaned back in her chair. "The kitchen master would have cast her out if he knew. A girl like her, without a noble name, would have no place to study magic. But I wasn't about to let that talent go to waste."

Aldric's expression softened. "What's your name?"

"…Elise, my lord."

"Where are your parents?"

Elise hesitated. "Gone. I've been working here since I was small."

Aldric nodded. "Then you're fortunate to have Seraphina as your teacher. Work hard, and one day, you may become one of the greatest mages of our time."

Elise's eyes widened, as if she had never dared to dream of such a thing. Then, quickly, she bowed again, pressing her hands against her skirt.

Seraphina smirked. "I'll make sure she's properly trained. She's sharp—already picking up spells faster than I expected. With time, she might even surpass me."

Aldric chuckled. "Now that I'd like to see."

Elise swallowed hard, but there was a flicker of determination in her gaze now. Whatever fears she had, they were being overshadowed by something new—hope.

⸻

Raven's Shadow: The Underground Base

Descending into the underground training facility, Aldric stepped into a vast chamber lined with runic engravings—sigils designed for sound suppression and protective enchantments. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and determination, the sounds of sparring echoing through the space as recruits and seasoned operatives alike honed their combat skills.

Standing to the side, observing the training session, were Garrick Vale, the seasoned combat instructor, and Reiner Cross, the unit's tactical advisor. Garrick, a former mercenary and an expert in close-quarters combat, had been responsible for refining the operatives' physical combat skills. Reiner, a master strategist, specialized in ambush tactics and modern battlefield maneuvers—techniques that Aldric himself had introduced.

The recruits moved in formation, practicing maneuvers that deviated from traditional battlefield formations. Instead of the rigid, predictable stances favored by knights, they adapted fluid, reactive positioning, learned suppression and counter-offensive tactics, and executed quick-draw strikes combined with movement—combat techniques Aldric had introduced from his own extensive knowledge.

Reiner stroked his chin as he observed the exercise. "They're getting faster. Their reaction time is improving."

Garrick grunted in approval. "The formation drills are paying off. They're learning to break away and reform based on threats. No wasted movement."

Aldric watched for a few minutes before finally stepping forward. "Good," he said, his voice cutting through the noise. The operatives immediately straightened, standing at attention. "But this isn't enough."

He turned to the group of warriors. "Combat isn't about mindlessly following a set form—it's about adaptability, control, and precision. If your enemy doesn't follow your script, you must be able to adjust accordingly. Let's see how you fare against me."

The trainees exchanged glances, both excited and apprehensive. It wasn't every day that Lord Aldric himself stepped into the ring.

Garrick smirked. "You heard him. All of you—attack."

There was no hesitation. The moment the order was given, a dozen warriors lunged at Aldric simultaneously.

The Sparring Match: A Lesson in Combat

Aldric met their assault without drawing his weapon. He sidestepped the first strike, redirecting an opponent's blade with a fluid parry before driving his knee into their abdomen, sending them sprawling. Another came at him from behind, but Aldric ducked low, sweeping their legs out from under them in a single motion.

He moved effortlessly, dodging strikes, countering with precise movements that emphasized efficiency over brute force. He used the enemy's momentum against them, breaking their balance and striking at their weak points with controlled force.

"Your footwork is sloppy," he corrected mid-fight, effortlessly disarming an operative with a twist of his wrist. "You're relying too much on raw strength—leverage is key."

Another opponent attempted to flank him—Aldric sidestepped, grabbed their wrist, and flipped them over his shoulder before pinning them to the ground with a knee.

"Telegraphing your attacks will get you killed," he added, releasing them and pivoting just in time to block another strike.

One by one, the warriors fell, either disarmed or immobilized. Despite being outnumbered, Aldric hadn't even broken a sweat.

By the end of the spar, every single operative was either groaning on the ground or panting from exertion.

Aldric exhaled and looked over them. "Combat is not about strength alone. It's about control, precision, and reading your opponent. If you fight like this on a real battlefield, you'll die." His tone wasn't harsh, but firm. "You must learn to fight smarter. Train harder. Only then will you be worthy of the name 'Shadow Operative.'"

The recruits, despite their exhaustion, bowed deeply in respect.

Reiner crossed his arms, chuckling. "I think they get the message."

Garrick smirked. "That was a massacre."

Aldric extended a hand to help one of the fallen operatives up. "Good effort. Train with purpose, and you'll improve."

Unbeknownst to Aldric, Mara, Red, Tobias, Gerrod, and Royce had just entered the underground base when they noticed the commotion. They had come to inspect the training facility but had instead stumbled upon Aldric effortlessly dismantling an entire squad of elite warriors.

Mara whistled lowly. "Damn."

Red folded his arms, grinning. "I almost feel bad for them. Almost."

Tobias, ever the pragmatic one, observed the scene with a mixture of awe and calculation. "He wasn't just overpowering them—he was teaching them in real-time. Every move had a purpose."

Gerrod shook his head, an amused smile on his lips. "And here I thought I was decent at close combat. Makes me feel like an amateur."

Royce, usually the most stoic of the group, nodded in quiet admiration. "That's why he leads us."

The agents who had participated in the sparring session, despite being bruised and exhausted, looked at Aldric with newfound reverence and determination. They hadn't just been trained—they had been personally forged under his guidance.

Aldric turned, finally noticing the veterans standing near the entrance. He raised an eyebrow. "Enjoying the show?"

Mara smirked. "You sure know how to make an impression."

Red chuckled. "I'd say it was overkill, but they needed it."

Aldric shook his head with a faint smile. "Everyone does."

As he walked past them, he glanced at Garrick and Reiner. "Push them harder. They have potential—but potential alone isn't enough."

Garrick grinned. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

As Aldric made his way toward the exit, Red stretched his arms, cracking his knuckles with an eager grin. "Hold on, my lord. You just wiped the floor with the recruits—how about we have a go?"

Aldric stopped, glancing back at him. His golden eyes studied Red for a moment before shifting to Mara, Tobias, Gerrod, and Royce. Each of them had their own expressions of amusement, challenge, and, in Tobias's case, cold calculation.

Mara smirked, arms crossed. "Oh? What's wrong? Feeling tired after taking on a dozen men?"

Gerrod laughed. "If I recall, you said everyone needs training."

Tobias, ever the strategist, simply adjusted his gloves. "A perfect chance for us to learn from you firsthand, my lord."

Royce nodded, silent but firm.

Aldric exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. Let out a knowing smile. "Very well. The five of you—come at me."

Garrick, still standing at the sidelines, let out a chuckle. "This is gonna be fun."

Unlike the recruits, these five were veterans—seasoned warriors who had fought countless battles. They wouldn't make the same mistakes as the new trainees.

Red was the first to move, dashing forward in a blur, his fists a blur of motion as he aimed a rapid combination of strikes toward Aldric's chest. A feint.

At the same time, Tobias moved to Aldric's left, launching a low sweep meant to destabilize his footing. Gerrod came from behind, aiming for a grapple, while Mara positioned herself at a perfect flanking angle. Royce, ever patient, held back—waiting for the right moment to strike.

Aldric moved.

With inhuman precision, he sidestepped Red's punches, pivoted mid-motion to avoid Tobias's sweep, and—without looking—grabbed Gerrod's wrist just as he was about to grab him.

In a single fluid motion, Aldric used Gerrod's momentum to throw him into Tobias, sending both sprawling to the ground.

Red clicked his tongue, readjusting his stance, but before he could move again—

Mara struck.

She lunged in from the right, a dagger flashing toward Aldric's ribs, but the moment the blade neared him, Aldric caught her wrist with a steel grip.

Their eyes met. A flicker of realization crossed Mara's face—he had already predicted her movements before she even made them.

"Too slow," Aldric said, before twisting her wrist just enough to force her to drop the blade. Then, with a slight push, he sent her stumbling backward.

Royce finally made his move. Unlike the others, he didn't rush—instead, he went for precise, well-timed strikes, attacking Aldric's blind spots with near-perfect form.

But Aldric had already anticipated it.

He weaved through Royce's attacks like water, his movements effortless, controlled.

Then, just as Royce overextended by a fraction of an inch—Aldric struck.

A swift kick to the back of Royce's knee sent him collapsing forward, and before he could recover, Aldric caught him by the collar and threw him toward Red, who barely managed to dodge his teammate.

The five warriors regrouped, panting, bruised, but determined.

Red wiped the sweat from his brow, chuckling. "Alright, I'll admit it—this is a whole different level."

Gerrod groaned, rubbing his back. "Did you even try, or were you just playing with us?"

Mara sighed, shaking her head. "He predicted our every move."

Tobias, sitting up, frowned thoughtfully. "It wasn't just strength—he read us. Every stance, every shift in weight, every glance. He knew what we were going to do before we even committed to it."

Royce simply gave a respectful nod, acknowledging Aldric's overwhelming skill.

Aldric exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "You all did well. Better than the recruits." He looked at each of them before adding, "But you're still predictable."

Mara scoffed. "That's easy to say when you're built like a monster."

Aldric chuckled. "Even monsters have weaknesses. If you want to improve, you need to refine your adaptability. Trust me—on a real battlefield, you won't always have the luxury of planning your next move."

He extended a hand to Tobias, helping him up. Then to Gerrod.

Despite their loss, the five warriors felt nothing but respect. It was one thing to hear about Aldric's combat prowess—it was another to experience it firsthand.

Red grinned. "Well, now I know what to aim for."

Garrick clapped his hands. "Alright, alright, break it up. You've had your fun." He turned to Aldric. "Mind if I take over from here?"

Aldric nodded. "Drill them hard."

As he turned to leave, he could hear Red muttering, "One day, I'm gonna land a hit on you."

Aldric smirked but didn't turn back. "I'll be waiting."

———

As Aldric stepped out of the training hall, he flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders experimentally. His body felt different. Not just stronger, not just faster—but fundamentally changed.

At first, he thought it was simply the effects of mana reinforcement—enhancing his muscles and reflexes, pushing past the limitations of his old world's training. But now, after sparring with Red and the others, he realized it was more than that.

Mana wasn't just coating his body anymore. It was flowing through him.

He closed his eyes, focusing inward. It was like a subtle current beneath his skin, an unseen force weaving through his muscles, integrating with his very being. Before, he had to consciously guide mana into his limbs for enhancement. Now? It moved on its own.

It reminded him of blood circulation. The way red blood cells carried oxygen to the body, keeping it alive—mana was beginning to do the same. It pulsed with his heartbeat, seeping into every fiber of his being, making his body more than just flesh and bone.

That's why, during the fight, he could read their movements before they even attacked. His mind was processing information at speeds that should be impossible. Every shift in weight, every muscle twitch, every slight hesitation—his body understood it before his brain did.

His reflexes weren't just fast anymore. They were instinctual.

Mana was no longer just a tool—it was becoming part of him. A seamless extension of his existence.

He exhaled slowly, a smirk forming.

"If this is just the beginning… how much further can I go?"

———-

By the end of the day, Aldric made his way to the Academy's main office. When he entered, he was met with an almost comical sight—Lucien was slumped over his desk, buried beneath stacks of documents. His normally composed demeanor was replaced with visible exhaustion, his hair slightly disheveled.

Upon seeing Aldric, Lucien let out a weary smile. "How was your discussion with Father?" he asked.

Aldric folded his arms, smirking. "Productive."

Lucien's smile widened. "Good. Now that you're back, help me with these administrative tasks." He gestured toward a towering stack of papers. "I've separated the documents and implementations that need your advice and approval. I'll handle the smaller matters, but the bigger decisions fall to you."

Aldric's eyes widened in disbelief as he scanned the sheer volume of paperwork. He coughed, attempting to suppress his shock. "I see…"

Lucien merely smirked at his reaction before turning back to his work.

Aldric quickly composed himself. "Before that, call for a meeting. I want all heads and vice-heads of the key divisions present by the end of the business day."

Lucien raised an eyebrow. "All of them?"

Aldric nodded. "Wulfric, Rowan, Vincent, Seraphina, Caelum, and you. Along with their assistants and vice-heads. We need to ensure everything is moving in the right direction."

Lucien sighed but nodded. "Fine, I'll send out the summons. But you're handling at least half of these documents after the meeting."

Aldric chuckled, already preparing himself for the long night ahead