No one knew what Kelaode had actually experienced during that long trial.
When the light of the gate flashed for the last time on the plaza of the Royal Magic Academy, declaring the brutal assessment finally over, all eyes fixed on the students who were gradually returning.
Some cheered with joy—those were the victors returning with full loads.
Others hung their heads in dejection—those were the losers who had long since been eliminated.
But when Kelaode’s figure appeared, the entire plaza fell into a momentary dead silence.
This second young master of the Fleming family, who had been brimming with confidence before the assessment and had boasted he would take first place, now looked like a demon just crawled back from hell.
His expensive mage robe was long gone; he was only wrapped in a few ragged animal skins and leaves, barely covering his private parts.
His hair was a mess, caked with mud and dried blood. His once-handsome face was covered in purple-black bruises, and a shocking scratch ran across half of his face.
He was wounded all over.
Though an inspection confirmed the injuries were not fatal nor had they damaged his foundation, everyone could read one thing from his hollow, blank eyes—eyes that even carried a hint of fear.
He had experienced something atrocious in that ruin.
What surprised everyone even more was that when the names lit up one by one on the scoreboard, the number behind Kelaode’s name was a glaring zero.
Apart from the basic survival points anyone could earn just by staying alive, he had not brought out even a single low-grade mana crystal.
“Oh my god, is that Kelaode?”
“How did he turn into this ghost?”
Whispers surged like a tide from all directions.
Those who had once fawned over him for his family background and talent now had eyes full of contempt and mockery.
And those he had bullied in the past made no effort to hide their schadenfreude.
Kelaode stood in the middle of the crowd, his body trembling uncontrollably.
He did not retort, did not curse, and did not even raise his head to look at the name shining in gold at the top of the board: “Helos Olivia.”
Only at this moment did he realize who he had been up against.
No one had told him that person was from the Olivias Family.
Fear made him shrink his neck like a startled quail and flee the suffocating plaza.
Fortunately, even with only the survival base score and his usually decent theoretical grades, he could still barely pass the promotion assessment and avoid the miserable fate of repeating the year.
But for the proud and arrogant Kelaode, this result of living on borrowed time was worse than death.
The winter break that followed was destined to be a harsh winter for the young man who returned home.
The Fleming family’s territory was not large—a hilly area southeast of the Imperial Capital.
There were no bustling commercial streets, no grand magic towers—only rolling hills and endless vineyards.
From the day he returned to the territory, Kelaode became a completely different person.
He locked himself in the bedroom on the top floor of the mansion, drew all the curtains, and refused to see anyone.
Whether it was the fair-weather friends he usually hung out with or the distant relatives trying to fish for information, he shut them all out.
The room was pitch black, and the air was thick with a decadent smell.
Kelaode curled up on the bed, wrapped in thick blankets.
Even in this warm room, he still felt cold.
That coldness did not come from his body—it came from the depths of his soul.
Every time he closed his eyes, the three demon-like figures would appear in his mind, along with the image of that terrifying ruin guardian being dismantled like a toy.
“Monsters… they’re all monsters…”
Kelaode muttered to himself, his fingers gripping the sheets tightly, his face deathly pale.
“I can’t win… I’ll never win…”
That deep sense of powerlessness and despair gnawed at his heart day and night like a venomous snake.
The old steward stood outside the door, holding an exquisite dinner, his voice full of worry.
“Young master, please eat a little. His Lordship is very worried about you.”
“Get out! All of you, get out!”
Kelaode’s hysterical roar came from the room, followed by the dull thud of something heavy hitting the door.
“I’m not hungry! Leave me alone!”
The steward sighed, shook his head helplessly, and could only turn and walk away with the tray.
This went on for a whole week.
Until Viscount Fleming—Kelaode’s father—finally finished handling the territory’s affairs and had time to tend to his “self-isolating” son.
The tightly shut oak door of the bedroom was violently kicked open by a foot in an iron boot.
bang
A loud noise.
With the door flung open, bright sunlight forced its way into the dark room, making Kelaode instinctively shield his eyes.
“Look at yourself! What have you become?”
A stern roar exploded inside the room.
Viscount Fleming—Leijinade Fulaiming—strode in.
He was a burly middle-aged man with two neatly trimmed mustaches. Though already past fifty, his eyes were still sharp and carried an imposing aura.
Leijinade walked to the bed, yanked off Kelaode’s blanket, and lifted the curled-up young man like a chick.
“Just one failed exam, and you let it crush you like this?”
He glared at his son, his eyes filled with both anger and a hint of disappointment—the pain of seeing iron not turned into steel.
“A Fleming man, even when he loses, must lose with dignity! Who are you putting on this pathetic act for?”
Kelaode looked up at the tall man.
“Father…”
His eyes reddened instantly.
He opened his mouth, wanting to defend himself, to pour out the inhuman torment he had suffered in the ruin, but the words caught in his throat, turning into a sob.
“I… I lost horribly.”
He lowered his head, his voice hoarse.
“They… they were too strong. I was no match! I didn’t even have a chance to fight back.”
“Strong?”
Leijinade sneered, releasing his grip, letting Kelaode fall back onto the bed.
“In this world, there will always be someone stronger than you. If you lock yourself in your room and cry every time you meet a strong person, you’ll be a waste your whole life!”
He turned, walked to the window, and yanked open the heavy curtains.
Outside, sunlight spilled over the endless vineyards, glittering gold.
“I know you’ve been competitive since you were young. That’s not a bad thing—ambition is always good.”
Leijinade spoke with his back to his son, his tone softening slightly.
“Losing once is not terrifying. What’s terrifying is losing the courage to win back.”
He turned around, fixing his burning gaze on Kelaode.
“If you think you’re inferior in skill, then learn! Train! Become stronger!”
“I’ve already seen your academy transcript. Apart from this practical assessment, your theoretical scores are still among the top. That means your talent is not the problem!”
The viscount walked to the desk, picked up a freshly written parchment, and slammed it heavily on the table.
“To lift your spirits and help you regain a foothold among those geniuses, I have specially issued a high-paying notice within our territory and even in nine surrounding cities.”
He looked at Kelaode and said slowly, word by word:
“I’m going to find you a teacher—a real high-order magician—for one-on-one special training.”
Kelaode was stunned.
He raised his head, looking at his father’s stern yet expectant face. The stagnant pool in his heart seemed to ripple slightly.
‘Special training?’
‘Become stronger?’
‘But could he really… win back?’
The viscount’s notice did not go unnoticed.
After all, the reward he offered was incredibly tempting.
Not only a high salary, but also a batch of rare magical materials from the Fleming family’s collection.
For freelance mages, this was undoubtedly a huge lure.
Within a few days, several mages came to the door.
But most of them were either charlatans passing themselves off as the real deal or theorists who only knew how to talk.
After all, while everyone could cast magic, not many could be called high-order mages.
Under the viscount’s critical eye, they quickly failed and slunk away.
Until a snowstormy evening.
An old man wearing a deep blue mage robe and holding a withered wood staff knocked on the Fleming family’s door.
He did not give his name, nor did he show any badge from the Mage Association.
He simply stood in the courtyard, facing the wooden dummy used for testing magic power, and gently waved his staff.
No incantation was chanted, and no dazzling light effects appeared.
In just an instant, that extremely hard dummy—capable of withstanding mid-tier magic attacks—silently turned into a pool of steaming lava right before everyone’s eyes.
That precise, extreme control over mana, along with the casual ease of the act, instantly captivated everyone present.
Even Viscount Fleming was too shocked to speak.
He immediately decided on the spot, invited the old man into the mansion with the highest honors, and made him Kelaode’s exclusive tutor.
In the study on the top floor of the castle, the fire in the hearth burned brightly, warming the room.
Kelaode sat at the desk, somewhat uneasy as he looked at the old man sitting across from him, leisurely sipping tea.
Though his father said this teacher was very strong, he felt an uncomfortable aura emanating from the old man.
That gaze… too deep. Deep like a bottomless abyss, giving him the illusion that everything about him was being seen through.
“Go ahead, tell me.”
The old man set down his teacup. His murky eyes looked at Kelaode, his voice a little hoarse.
“Since you want to get stronger, I need to know how you lost.”
“Tell me the details of that exam. Don’t leave anything out.”
Kelaode hesitated.
That memory was a nightmare to him. But facing this new teacher’s inquiry, and the flame of revenge burning deep inside him, he finally gritted his teeth and spoke.
He recounted his experience in the ruin—how the silver-haired girl toyed with him, how the black-haired knight humiliated him, and how they slaughtered the ruin guardian like demons.
As he spoke, his body trembled uncontrollably, and the venom in his eyes almost overflowed.
“…That’s it.”
Kelaode clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into his palms.
“They’re not human! They’re monsters! That Helos—she didn’t even need to chant a spell to make my magic disappear! It’s not fair!”
After hearing Kelaode’s account, the old man showed neither surprise nor sympathy.
He just sat there quietly, a meaningful smile even curling at the corner of his wrinkled face.
“Oh? Making magic disappear without chanting a spell?”
“Interesting.”
He slowly stood up, walked over to Kelaode, and placed a withered hand on the young man’s shoulder.
The old man’s voice grew low.
“Child, you don’t need to sell yourself short.”
“Your talent is not bad. Among your peers, you are already outstanding. The reason you lost is not because you are weak or because you didn’t work hard enough.”
“It’s because—”
He lowered his head, his eyes flickering with a blue light as he stared straight into Kelaode’s eyes.
“Your opponents are not ‘clean.’”
“Not clean?”
Kelaode was taken aback.
“Teacher, you mean…”
“Think about it.”
The old man coaxed him.
“If she were really just a normal alchemist, how could she have the ability to nullify magic? And how could an ordinary student single-handedly match a ruin guardian with just physical strength?”
“Is that so-called ‘talent’ of theirs really just talent?”
A mocking curve appeared at the corner of the old man’s mouth.
“Or… did they use some underhanded, even forbidden methods?”
These words were like a seed that instantly fell into the soil of Kelaode’s resentment and unwillingness, quickly taking root.
Yes!
Why?
Why could that seemingly silly duke’s daughter be so strong?
Why could that knight, who had nothing but his face, be so strong?
There had to be a reason!
They must have used some despicable means!
“Teacher!”
Kelaode jerked his head up, hope blazing in his eyes.
“Are you saying they cheated? That they used forbidden arts?”
“Very likely.”
The old man nodded, putting on an air of profound mystery.
“This kind of power often comes at a great cost, but at the same time it means… hmm, do you understand what I’m getting at?”
He patted Kelaode’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry, child. Since I’m here, I won’t let you suffer in vain.”
“I will teach you.”
“Teach you how to obtain stronger power, and how to expose their true faces.”
“When the time comes, you won’t just win back.”
The old man’s voice, low like a demon’s whisper, seduced Kelaode.
“You can also make them… lose everything.”
There is another chapter. I went out for lunch and didn’t update. Posting two chapters together. Continuing later.