Chapter 17: The Start of the First Arc of the First Game (7)
The Grand Hall of Eden's Royal Academy caught the morning light like a held breath, its high arched ceiling a sky of stone where crystal chandeliers dangled like stars frozen in place, throwing soft rainbows across the smooth marble floors. Mana lamps glowed gentle along the tall pillars, their light warm and steady, like old friends offering quiet comfort. At the far end, the empire's huge crest shone in gold—a proud eagle with wings spread wide, watching over everyone like a promise of strength.
Hundreds of students packed the hall, sitting close together in rows of wooden chairs that creaked under their weight. Their talk, once full of excited buzz about classes and friends, had faded to a low hum, careful and on edge. The air felt thick, heavy with the fresh sting of yesterday's fear—the train attack still raw, like a bruise that hurt with every move. Some kids stared at their hands, lost in thought; others glanced around, waiting for something to break the quiet.
Up front stood Headmaster Wilhelm Altaliere, tall and calm, his light-blue hair catching the sun that poured through the tall stained-glass windows, painting the floor in colors of red and blue like scattered jewels. His green eyes were steady but kind, scanning the room as if he could see right into each worried heart. Behind him lined the teachers, deans, and a few nobles—their faces serious, waiting for what came next.
Wilhelm lifted one hand, palm out like he was asking for trust, and the whispers died away fast. The hall went still, everyone holding their breath.
"My dear students," he started, his voice clear and warm, carrying easy to the back without needing to shout, "welcome to Eden's Royal Academy—the place where we learn not just spells or sword work, but how to be brave, how to stand together, no matter what magic or fight comes our way."
His eyes moved over the crowd slow, touching on faces full of wonder mixed with worry, fear that hadn't quite let go, and that numb shock from the day before. It felt like he was talking right to each one, making the big hall feel smaller, safer.
"I know your trip here wasn't what we all hoped for," he went on, his words steady, like a hand on a scared shoulder. "What was supposed to be an easy ride turned into something scary—something that never should have happened inside our empire's safe lands."
A soft ripple went through the students, like a wind over water. Some dropped their eyes to their laps; others gripped the arms of their chairs, knuckles turning white.
Wilhelm didn't rush. He let the quiet sit for a second, giving space for the hurt. "A lot of you saw things that would shake even grown knights—people trying to hurt the innocent, twisting mana into something ugly and mean."
He stopped there, letting the words hang, the silence in the hall feeling big and real, like everyone was sharing the same heavy load.
"But you also saw real guts," he said, his voice lifting just a bit, like sunlight breaking through clouds.
A few heads came up, eyes a little brighter.
"You watched friends your age stand tall when everything said run. You saw bravery that didn't come from fancy family names or big titles, but from what's inside— the kind of heart that says 'not today' to the dark. That's what makes a real mage, knight, or thinker here at Eden's Royal Academy."
Claps started then—slow at first, like rain starting soft, then building as more joined in, hands coming together in a wave of real feeling. But Wilhelm raised his hand gentle again, asking for quiet without a word, and the sound faded back.
"Still, I have to say sorry to every one of you," he admitted, his voice dropping softer, humble like a dad owning up to a mistake. "Sorry for the shields that let us down, for thinking we had it all locked tight when we didn't, for every second of scare you went through because we slipped up. I, Wilhelm Altaliere, head of this place, take that all on myself."
The teachers behind him shifted a little, uncomfortable, like they wanted to say something. But Wilhelm stayed steady, his face open, no hiding.
"I've already sent word to the Imperial Council," he promised. "Extra guards will watch every mana path leading here. Keeping you safe isn't just talk—it's the rule we live by, and I'll make sure nothing like this touches us again."
He stood a bit taller then, his presence filling the room—not scary, but solid, like a big tree in a storm you could lean on. "But here's something you need to know: bad things don't pick and choose. No wall's too high for trouble to find a way in. So you—every single one—have to get stronger, not just in spells or swings, but down deep, where it counts: in that gut feeling that keeps you going."
His green eyes lit up soft with mana, like a warm glow from inside. "That's why this academy exists—to turn tough times into strength, fear into pulling together, mess into what makes you brave. Don't let yesterday break you... let it wake you up."
The students went quiet now, not scared, but listening hard—leaning in, like his words were a rope thrown into rough water.
Wilhelm's voice got even kinder, like he was talking to his own kids. "Classes start tomorrow. Take today to rest, think about what hit you, what you learned. You're not just here to study—you're the empire's tomorrow, the light that pushes back whatever dark tries to creep in."
He waited a beat, letting it sink, then bowed his head a little to the whole room. "And from the bottom of my heart, one more time—I'm so sorry. You faced things no kid should. For putting that on you, I'm truly sorry."
The quiet held for a second, thick and full—then it broke like a dam: claps exploding into cheers, students jumping up, some crying happy tears, others yelling with that mix of relief and fire. Even the nobles up front, who usually acted too cool for everything, couldn't hold back—the headmaster's real talk had cut through, making the big hall feel like one big family for a minute.
But way in the back row, out of the bright lights and happy noise, one kid stayed put—sitting still like he was carved from the chair itself.
Lucian Azrael Von Blackstar.
He leaned back easy, face blank as a fresh page, the sun's gold rays touching his white hair but finding no shine to catch. His eyes, dark and empty, stared at the floor like it held secrets worth keeping.
His fingers tapped light on his knee, keeping time with thoughts no one else could hear.
'So, the headmaster talks about peace and keeping watch,' he thought quiet, easing back more in his seat. 'But this won't be the first or last time the academy gets hit.'
The beat went on in his head, steady like a heart that wouldn't quit.
'The cult folks won't quit here. The dark mages—they're just tools. The real bad stuff hides in the corners pulling strings.'
The raider's words from yesterday bounced back soft in his mind—"Where is Amelia Eileen Orientalia?"
A name that didn't fit yet. A step that shouldn't happen till halfway through the first game's part.
He let out a breath so quiet it barely moved the air.
'I need to figure out what's messing with how this world runs.'
He glanced up quick at the headmaster way up front. Wilhelm was talking brighter now, about the welcome party coming up, about making friends and growing together. The kids clapped again, loud and real.
But Lucian tuned it out.
His head was already mapping roads far off.
'The Demon God's signs... they won't show up in this part of the game. Not yet.'
A cool, hard spark lit in his eyes for a second.
'But when the first game wraps—when the last part kicks off—the way to Paradisia Island opens up. The second game's land... and the spot where the sealed bits of the Evil Gods are supposed to sleep.'
He crossed his arms loose, his inner voice low and even.
'If the game's timing keeps shifting like this... then I might get answers there. Maybe even why I keep ending up back here.'
The talk wrapped up, and the students popped up, clapping and whooping. The big noise filled the hall—full of hope, light, and that real human spark.
But Lucian didn't budge. He sat there like a shadow in the sun, eyes cool and far away.
'Paradisia Island, huh...' he said to himself in his head, soft and alone. 'Then that's where my next hard time starts.'
And with that still thought, he got up at last—turning from the happy crowd, heading quiet for the academy's side halls, knowing right where he was going.
The music room.
The one spot left in this world that might still feel like a break.