N.B.Dravenlord
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AoP | B1 | Chapter 50: Deal
🕑 Added 2025-07-16 04:05:01 +0000 UTC"Seth, call back your direwolf," Director Ryehill said, glancing at Nightmare. "Contracted beasts aren’t allowed out without a teacher's permission."
Seth moved the direwolf back into his necklace and bowed. "Sorry, sir. I wasn't aware of that rule."
The director turned to Quill, who was scrambling to his feet. "Mister Seralp, you're expelled."
The noble's expression shifted, and all colors left his face. "Because I attacked that… commoner?"
"No," the director replied coldly. "Because you attacked that fellow student."
The noble opened his mouth, yet his protest died in his throat and his head dropped. Shooting a venomous glare at Seth, he left the cafeteria, fists clenched at his sides. Many students were gaping, disbelief etched into their faces. Clearly it was hard to accept that another noble was getting expelled because of a commoner—the same commoner.
"Seth, come with me," the director said, turning away.
Seth glanced back at Elena, Devus, and Jenna. Both the young women's eyes were filled with concern and worry, while the Guardian bore a broad grin—probably because of the direwolf.
"I'll see you all later," Seth muttered with a wave before following the director.
'Are you mad at me?' Nightmare asked through Link.
'No,' Seth answered. 'I wanted to keep the secret a bit longer, but it's fine.'
'Think you're getting expelled?'
Seth looked at the director's back in front of him. 'No idea.'
As he trailed the man through the corridors, he felt surprisingly calm.
Worst case, they kick me out, he thought, going through the academy’s benefits like the shop, the Trial Tower, and the knowledge. Though with Nightmare now Iron, it didn’t matter as much as before. We would manage.
They stopped before a large, heavy wooden door adorned with carvings of two giant eagles, and the director gestured for Seth to enter. The office inside was sophisticated: rich mahogany furniture, bookshelves lined with ancient tomes, and portraits of both Gods and what seemed like powerful Wielders graced the walls. Light filtered through large, arched windows and cast a soft glow on the large desk in the middle of the room. Director Ryehill settled into a high-backed chair, his fingers steepling as his eyes bore into Seth. "Sit down."
As Seth took a seat, the man began, not wasting even a second: "You and your direwolf killed a noble yesterday."
The director's intense gaze made Seth's throat tighten. "They—they tried to kill me first, sir. I was just defending myself. When I saw how badly he was injured, I tried to save him with a Healing Potion, but it didn't work."
"You left him the Savage Grassland with half his throat melted," the director said, leaning forward, elbows on his desk and hands joined together. "Do you really think the Seralp House believes you tried to save him?"
"No… sir," Seth replied, his teeth clenching as he forced himself to stay quiet. He tried to kill me first, he thought bitterly. What did they expect me to do? Carry him back on my shoulders and make sure he survived? Get a Priest to heal him so he could ambush me again later?
Director Ryehill let out a weary sigh, rubbing his short beard. "My life would’ve been a lot easier right now if Professor Reat hadn't intervened. I’ll be honest, Seth, I initially thought he was joking when he asked me to convince the board not to expel you. That man’s always had his share of unconventional ideas, but this… this was something else. Risking the academy’s relationship with a House for a first-year student? Yeah, that’s… bold."
"I'm sorry, sir."
The director’s eyes closed briefly, and his expression softened. "Do you know, Seth, how many Primalists have graduated from this academy?"
"Um, I don't know, sir," Seth answered, unsure why that was relevant. "Ten?"
The director shook his head. "Zero. They either died hunting arcane beasts, got expelled for falling too far behind, or dropped out on their own. Not a single one made it to third year. That's the price that comes with this high-risk high-reward class. The ones who do well tend to push too hard, and eventually, they get killed."
A tense silence followed for a few seconds, then the director continued, "I understand why Professor Reat is interested in you. Contracting a Tenebrous Direwolf at your Tier is unheard of. That beast alone would make you stand out"—Director Ryehill’s face hardened as he momentarily paused—"but I still don't think it's worth going against the Seralp House."
Seth swallowed, unsure how to respond. The director stared at him for a moment, then stood up and walked to a nearby window to look outside at the garden. "He sees your beast as your potential, but I don't. At the end of the contract with it, you’ll just be a normal Primalist."
"I believe he also sees potential in me, sir," Seth answered, politely correcting the director. Professor Reat's actions weren't just about Nightmare but also the Draerian blood that flowed in Seth’s veins. "He wouldn't have stood up for me or brought me into the Champions of Chaos, if he didn't."
"Maybe," the director replied with a shrug, facing Seth while leaning on the window frame. "He also told me about your two-week-off plan. Frankly, I doubt it’ll change much—other than tarnishing the academy’s reputation even more. Primalists like you would need a whole month off to hunt every semester, just to keep up with the other students."
Seth pressed his lips together, reading between the lines. The director wasn’t keen on letting him stay at the academy if his presence would bring troubles. If I don’t find a solution, I’ll get kicked out.
Then, like a bolt of lightning, an idea hit Seth, and his eyes widened. Nightmare, reading his thoughts, jumped onto his paws eagerly within the necklace.
"Then… would it be possible, sir, for me to actually try that?"
"A month off?" the director asked, frowning. "Why would I allow that?"
"It could help further ease the tension with the Seralp House, sir," Seth suggested. "And if they still want to come after me during that time, they’ll do it outside the academy's grounds instead of risking upsetting you by doing it here."
"That's… not a bad idea," the director admitted before thinking for a moment. "But you realize no professors will make any concessions for you, right?"
Seth nodded. "Yes, sir. I’ll work twice as hard as any other student to keep up with my classes."
"I hope so," the director answered. "Even if Professor Reat likes you, you'll still be expelled if you fail any of those courses."
"Understood, sir."
Seth’s fingers clenched tightly around his knees as he realized the situation he’d put himself in. Despite Jenna and Elena’s help—particularly the noble’s—he had barely passed last week’s final exams. Starting the next semester by missing two whole weeks would certainly set him back, and he’d have a lot of catching up to do.
The director pushed himself up with a sigh. "It’s a deal, then."
"Thank you, sir," Seth answered. "I won't disappoint you."
After a brief nod, Director Ryehill glanced toward his office’s door. "You may leave."
"Have a good day, sir."
Seth bowed to the man before hurrying out, heading back to the dorm tower. Since he’d be gone for a month, the least he could do was say a proper goodbye to Devus, Elena, and Jenna.
His footsteps echoed in the hallways, small light-lamps hanging from the ceiling casting a continuous, soft glow. As he turned a corner, he nearly collided with Lucius, who was casually leaning against the wall next to a door.
The noble's blond ponytail swished while he turned his head, a smug grin exuding sheer arrogance on his face. "Well, well, if it isn't my favorite Primalist. I must say, I'm quite relieved they didn’t expel you yet. I was worried you’d run off like a frightened rat."
Seth met the Elementalist’s gaze, unfazed. "As if I’d run from you, Lucius."
The noble's blue eyes glinted with malice as he pushed himself off the wall. "That's good news for the people of your little town. I won't have to ask my House's tax collectors to make their life very... difficult for you to come out of your rathole."
A knot of dread tightened in Seth’s stomach. With me gone for a month he'll target Sunatown to get me.
Then, a reckless idea formed in his mind: what if he became an obsession the noble couldn't see past? By drawing all that hate onto himself, he could make it intensely personal. Lucius would be so focused on hunting him down that he'd forget Sunatown even existed. It was a dangerous gamble, but it was the only idea Seth could think of.
"I have no intention of hiding," he hissed, stepping closer to the noble.
Lucius laughed, and a broad grin split his face in half. "You're even dumber than I thought."
Before Seth could retort, the familiar chill of Identify washed over him. Almost by reflex, he responded with his own spell.
Lucius Faertis
Class: Elementalist Rank: 20 (Peak-Copper)
Subclass: -
Strength: ??? Arcane Power: ???
Toughness: ??? Well Capacity : ???
Agility: ??? Regeneration: ???
Rank 20, Seth cursed inwardly. Gaining the last three Ranks of the Copper Tier in three months was impressive, especially for a lazy noble like Lucius. He must’ve used resources or something.
Lucius' eyes briefly widened, then he scoffed. "Seems like you've managed to get a sponsor, despite your worthless class. I must admit, I'm impressed."
"I haven't," Seth retorted, his mouths’ corner twitching upwards. "But thanks for the… compliment, I guess."
The noble's expression darkened, and his smile vanished. "Don't take me for a fool. How many years of your miserable life did you sell into service? Twenty? Forty?"
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Lucius," Seth answered with a shrug. "Oh, and please give your father my regards. It’s going to be so much more satisfying crushing you despite all those resources he’s been giving you."
"I'll have your tongue cut out for that!" Lucius snarled, his face reddening.
"Oh yeah? And who’s going to do that?" Seth taunted, stepping even closer. "Your father’s men? You’ll go cry for their help again? Maybe you should grow a pair, Lucius, and handle things yourself for once."
The air around them seemed to crackle and Lucius' arm began trembling, aether swirling around like a tiny cyclone. The Elementalist gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his neck. "I don't need anyone to deal with you."
"Then do it." Seth's eyes locked on the noble’s as his hand moved to his dagger's handle. "Deal with me."
Lucius’ aether swirled toward his hand, but before he could act, the door beside them flew open. A man stepped out, tall and powerfully built, much like Seth, with sharp features and blond hair that mirrored Lucius’. He wore the dark crimson uniform of the academy’s instructors and a few military medals hung from his chest’s pocket—Sergeant Faertis, the Guardian instructor of their Combat Theory class… and Lucius’ brother.
"Lucius, inside. Now," he barked.
The Elementalist glared at Seth, and his lips twisted into a sinister smile. "If you ever feel like Rift Diving, let me know. I know a group of adventurers that could help someone like you—"
Before the noble could finish, his brother cuffed him sharply on the shoulder, then turned to Seth, fixing him with a cold gaze. "You’d best be on your way, commoner."
With a final sneer, Lucius disappeared into the room with his brother. Seth stood there for a moment, fists clenched at his sides. Hopefully that should be enough to keep his focus on me.
Whispers followed him like a shadow as Seth walked back to the dorm tower, punctuated by sidelong glances from other students. They murmured and pointed at him, their eyes tracking each of his steps. Keeping his head high, he ignored them. Even if he knew no one would dare act after Director Ryehill intervention, a single thought still burned in Seth’s mind: getting stronger. And fast.
The moment he reached his room, he pushed the door open and stepped inside before rooting into place—Jenna and Elena sat on his bed while Devus lounged in his chair by the window. They all immediately turned toward him, and a large smile spread on Devus' tan face.
"You got shit to explain, mate."
Comments
Raymond Speckman III
Seth is finally using his predilection for drawing trouble to himself for heroics.
