Appearance of the Prodigy

Here is Chapter 26 of Villain's Revenge, written in your style and following your outline. It spans approximately 2000+ words:

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Ray woke up before sunrise.

The light outside hadn't changed, but something within him had.

His breathing was steady, but shallow, as though his body hadn't forgotten the memory that had haunted his dreams—Kael.

The traitor who once called him "friend."

The man who fought beside him in the rebellion, saved his life once... only to take it later.

Ray stared at the ceiling of his dorm room for a long while before finally sitting up. He grabbed the sword leaning by his bedside and walked quietly to the training yard, the cold morning breeze brushing against his face.

Clink. Clink.

He began sharpening his blade.

The motion was repetitive—steady—but his mind wasn't. It drifted back to that day, the one burned into the back of his skull.

The execution square. Kael's sword gleaming in the light. His voice calm.

"By order of His Majesty, Ray Illustrious, former Prince of the Empire, is sentenced to death."

Ray exhaled slowly, steel sliding against whetstone.

That wouldn't happen again.

Not in this life.

Not when he had already seen the betrayal coming.

---

The academy cafeteria buzzed with louder-than-usual chatter.

Ray walked in quietly, tray in hand, and sat at a corner table. As expected, the first few words he caught were about Kael.

"Did you hear? An S-grade commoner!"

"No sponsor, no noble backer… They say the Emperor himself approved it!"

"I heard he's already been offered by two noble factions."

Ray stirred his tea, expression unreadable.

Of course the Emperor would use Kael's case as a public gesture. A token example. A way to say, "Look, the Empire isn't biased."

But Ray knew the truth—commoners still needed noble sponsors to attend. Travis was living proof of that.

It was a rigged game.

Let one commoner through to distract from the dozens barred.

A smokescreen.

And Kael? He was the perfect smokescreen. Powerful, charming, seemingly righteous.

Ray could already see the gears turning in the political machine.

But this time, Ray thought, sipping slowly, I'm not a pawn.

---

Instructor Heron's battlefield tactics lecture was held in the old stone hall, beneath domed brass chandeliers and large tactical maps etched into the walls.

Ray sat beside Travis, who was unusually quiet.

"You okay?" Ray asked.

Travis nodded slowly. "It's just... if the rumors are true, what's the point for people like me?"

"You're not him," Ray said simply. "You don't need to be."

A few seats away, a noble boy sneered loudly, clearly speaking for others to hear.

"Let's see how long this S-grade peasant lasts before someone shows him his place."

Heron, standing at the front, snapped the lecture stick against his desk. The room fell silent.

"The Spirit," he said coolly, "cares not for your blood. Nobility is earned, not inherited. You'll do well to remember that."

Heron's gaze passed briefly over Ray, sharp and knowing. Ray didn't react.

Just then, the heavy iron doors groaned open.

Footsteps echoed.

Kael had arrived.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. With silver-blue hair and a distant, unbothered calm in his eyes.

His uniform fit perfectly. His boots were spotless. Every motion he made was precise, elegant—but not noble.

The room fell completely silent.

Kael bowed slightly at the door.

"Apologies for the interruption. I was directed here."

Heron nodded. "Find a seat."

Kael walked down the aisle like a storm wrapped in silk. As he passed, Ray noted the subtle shifts in reaction—noble students stiffening, commoners leaning forward as though witnessing a myth come alive.

Travis stared, frozen.

Ray kept his gaze steady, but inside, every nerve screamed. The way Kael walked. The way he paused to smile briefly at Heron. It was all the same.

Like nothing had changed.

A memory bled into Ray's mind.

Dust. Blood. Fire.

He and Kael back-to-back during the Western rebellion. Ray remembered Kael pulling him out of a collapsing watchtower, his shoulder bleeding, eyes determined.

"You owe me one," Kael had grinned.

Then another memory—years later.

Chains. Cold stone.

Kael's voice, calm and formal, reading the execution order.

Ray blinked away the past.

He wasn't that naive anymore.

Lunch was awkward.

The dining hall, usually loud and chaotic, was muted. Kael sat alone at a table in the center. Nobles ignored him with forced effort. Commoners whispered behind their hands.

A few approached, hesitating.

Among them—Travis.

Ray watched as Travis stood near Kael's table, fidgeting.

He didn't step forward.

Ray didn't stop him either.

Kael was an enigma wrapped in too many layers. It was better to watch him through others first.

One bold noble finally walked up and sneered.

"Tell me, do you polish your sword yourself, or do you make the other peasants do it?"

Kael looked up slowly, smiling without warmth.

"I find that tools perform better when cared for by their master. Perhaps you wouldn't understand."

The noble flushed.

Ray watched the subtle tension.

Kael wasn't avoiding conflict. He was baiting it—like always.

Later that afternoon, Ray went to the training yard again. It was empty, save for the wind rattling the practice dummies.

And Kael.

He was there, practicing forms with a two-handed blade.

The moment Kael saw Ray, he lowered his weapon and smiled.

"Ray Illustrious," he said. "I've heard about your duel."

Ray approached slowly. "And I've heard you're stronger than you look."

"Not sure if that's a compliment or an insult."

Ray offered a small, unreadable smirk. "Take it how you will."

Kael studied him for a moment. "You are the proud of our empire."

"So are you."

Neither broke eye contact.

There was no warmth. No trust. Just an invisible tension stretching between them like a blade at the throat.

Kael glanced at Ray's sword. " Your blade technique is really amazing "

"I know you can do it better" Ray replied

Kael chuckled, stepping back. " But still I won't be able to match you"

That night, Ray sat by the candlelight in his dorm room, writing in his private journal.

He inked Kael's name in bold.

Kael – S-grade, Commoner, Previously allied with me. Betrayed me. Executed me.

Current behavior: Calm, calculating, charming. Same as before.

He paused, tapping the quill against the desk.

Possible imperial pawn. Dangerous either way.

Travis seems intrigued. Must warn him later.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

The pieces on the board had shifted.

Kael's arrival had already stirred the academy.

Factions would move soon—perhaps to recruit, perhaps to test.

Ray couldn't afford to play the game passively this time.

He was done being a piece.

He would be the player.

And Kael?

Kael was no friend.

He was the storm returning with a smile—and Ray was the cliff waiting to break it.