Chapter 13 – The Arrival

Arthur leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head, staring at the classroom ceiling with growing boredom. The Academy halls were as lively as ever, filled with students chattering about training, politics, and whose family held the most influence. He had heard it all before.

For Arthur, the Academy had long since lost its novelty. He had already done what many considered impossible—breaking his First Seal at such a young age. Most students spent their time dreaming of unlocking their true potential, while Arthur had already taken his first step toward true power. And yet, it still wasn't enough. It never was. The same lessons, the same people, the same expectations. Being the son of a high-ranking knight meant expectations had been placed on him since birth, and most of his peers had similar burdens to bear. Nobles, warriors, the next generation of the Lightbound Order's elite—all gathered in one place to sharpen their skills and secure their future.

Arthur was young, extremely handsome one of the greatest talents in the kingdom and yet he was just so bored of life In the citadel 

'If only I had a rival or something among my peers'

'What a cruel world we live In' 

A few students muttered in hushed tones nearby, pulling Arthur's attention back to the present. Something was different today.

It wasn't just the usual gossip—it was anticipation.

Arthur frowned, sitting up properly. He scanned the room, catching snippets of whispered conversations.

"They say he trained directly under Selene."

"A commoner, but his talent is supposedly monstrous."

"The Order is treating him like he's one of the Chosen."

Arthur's brow furrowed. He was already at the top of his class—who could possibly be worth this much attention?

Before he could ask, the classroom doors creaked open.

A presence entered. Not just a person—a presence.

Arthur turned his head, and for the first time, he laid eyes on Ariel.

He looked different. Not in the way nobles dressed in polished silks or with an air of arrogance. Ariel wore the white and golden academy robes. His silver-grey l long, but not flowing—it had been cut slightly just past his shoulders, with layered bangs that framed his sharp, well-defined features. It gave him an edge, a look that balanced refinement with something untamed, something unpredictable. His pale complexion, contrasted against the deep grey of his eyes, made him look almost ethereal—like something otherworldly walking among mortals. His face held no nervousness, no arrogance, no hesitation.

But it was his eyes that stood out the most.

Storm-grey, cold yet smoldering with something hidden beneath the surface—something restrained, something waiting. Something unreadable. Something restrained.

Arthur had seen many warriors, both arrogant and disciplined. But Ariel… he wasn't like them. He didn't just enter the room—he owned the space around him, without a single word.

The murmuring among the students grew louder, but Ariel barely acknowledged it. His gaze was steady, scanning the room as if measuring it. Not in fear, not in curiosity—but in calculation.

Arthur found himself smirking. This was different.

The weight of the moment settled over the room like an unspoken command. Every student, was watching Ariel, yet he didn't falter. He walked forward with measured steps, his presence unwavering, as if the eyes of the Academy meant nothing to him. His movement was fluid, deliberate—not slow, not rushed, but perfectly balanced. Even without speaking, he projected an air of complete control.

Some students exchanged uncertain glances. A few sneered, whispering under their breath, but none dared to voice their thoughts too loudly. Others watched him with cautious intrigue, as if unsure whether to treat him as a potential ally or a rival.

Arthur continued observing, his smirk deepening. Confidence, composure, control—Ariel had all three. But Arthur knew better than anyone that appearances could be deceiving. Confidence could be a mask, and control could be an illusion.

'But is it?' Arthur thought, eyes narrowing slightly. Ariel didn't just seem composed. He was composed. There was no stiffness in his movements, no hesitation in his posture. He was completely at ease, despite the weight of every gaze upon him.

Interesting.

Professor Reinhardt, a stern-faced man with sharp eyes, cleared his throat loudly, finally breaking the tense silence. "Take a seat, Ariel. We've been expecting you."

Ariel nodded, offering no unnecessary words in response. His gaze flickered briefly across the room before settling on Arthur. Without hesitation, he walked toward the empty seat beside him, pulling the chair back and sitting down with the same quiet confidence that had marked his entrance.

A ripple of murmurs spread through the classroom. Few dared to sit next to Arthur—whether out of respect, fear, or a desire to avoid competition. But Ariel? He acted as if he hadn't even considered any other option.

Weather it was because he simply didn't know of Arthur or for some other reason he didn't know- 

The murmurs among the students continued, some hushed, others deliberately loud.

"Tch. I don't get the ruckus. He doesn't look so special."

"They say Elder Selene personally trained him… what does that even mean?"

"It means he's dangerous."

Arthur tapped his fingers against the desk, listening to the shifting atmosphere. It was beginning already. The Academy was a battlefield in its own right, where strength dictated respect, and newcomers had to prove themselves. Ariel's arrival had just thrown a stone into still waters. The ripples would soon turn into waves.

Arthur leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand. He had a feeling things were about to get very, very interesting. He had seen prodigies before, he had even stood at the top among them. But Ariel was something else entirely. There was no posturing, no attempt to prove himself—he simply existed, and yet it commanded attention. Perhaps, for the first time in years, Arthur had found someone truly worth measuring himself against.