Water sloshed around, a figure slowly standing from its depths. Then, it went oddly still. But deep within, the figure was still approaching the surface.
When the figure fully appeared, it looked as though they stepped out of a mirror rather than a stream of liquid. The sight was almost surreal, like the water didn’t dare to be loud in its presence.
Theron’s head emerged, his hair sparse compared to its previous length. However, his skin, while a bit pink and tender, was no longer the charred mess it was before.
‘How long has it been… a month…’
He looked up to the skies, the moon beaming down at him once again. Judging by the phase change, it had actually been so long.
The aura of the Seventh Resonance pooled out of him in a slight shift as he pulled at the water around him, rising to the surface.
His clothing was completely gone, and there was nothing on his person but the dagger in his hand and the necklace that hung from his neck.
Then there was his skin itself that almost seemed like an accessory to his body, hanging loosely and limply to his bone. He looked exactly like someone who hadn’t eaten for a month.
There was a weak languidness to him that belied the sharpness in his eyes.
A scythe of water seemed to manifest from nothing, slicing its head clean off.
The creature didn’t even manage to fall back to the waters below, its body caught by a sphere of water and carried slowly to the shore.
…
Theron sat by a fire. Maybe in the depths of the night it wasn’t smart to light a fire, especially not to cook such a large feral beast. But as the red and orange hues danced across his irises, he didn’t seem to notice at all.
He should have had a month to think about his next step, but he had spent the entire time in a complete meditative state. This was the first opportunity he had had to truly think.
It only took him a moment to realize that there was no leaving. His father’s sword… he had to get it back.
Was it foolish? He knew it was.
But every time he thought about leaving it behind for who knew how long, a rage he thought he had suppressed erupted again.
Despite this, there was a deathly stillness in his eyes.
He cut another piece of savory flesh off of the feral fish beast, swallowing it after a few bites.
Even if he was going to do something foolish, it couldn’t be without thought. If he was going to return, he needed a plan of action.
Looking down at his chest, he saw the markings left behind by the Daggers of the Night.
He was certain of it… it had faded considerably.
He ran a hand over it.
‘Just what is happening to my body…’
Theron already had a plan to get rid of this cursed mark from the moment it was etched onto him. It was as simple as could be.
Reach Gold Mancer.
But now, it had faded considerably, and he could already feel that the hold it had on him wasn’t even half as effective as before.
This wasn’t necessarily a good thing. If the Guild noticed, it would cause him only more trouble. But the main point was that this only gave him more questions about his body.
Just how was it that he was able to heal just by lying at the bottom of a lake for a month? Why did his cultivation keep going up because of it? Why did he have to be in Veinsong for it to work?
During this month, he had been forced to surface several times because the length of Veinsong ran out. It could be said the first few times had really put him on the edge of death.
His palm shifted from the markings to the necklace around his neck.
‘If you want a genius, I’ll give you a genius.’
**
Theron walked into the Imperial Academy in the dead of night. The guards didn’t seem to notice him as he walked by.
The very next morning, he walked out from his dorm in his Imperial Scholar garb as though nothing at all had happened.
Every single change at the academy was caught by a sweep of his gaze. He took it all in, not missing a single detail.
Last night, he hadn’t slept, doing as much reconnaissance as he could. In fact, he had already been back in Thistle Brook City for an entire week before he chose to come back.
And he knew exactly what he would do.
After every completed year, there was a chance to transfer to the Main Imperial Academy. It was just that the bar was quite high.
A successful transfer required 33 completed credits by a first year, and 66 by a second year. There was no option for those beyond to transfer.
As one might imagine, this was already ridiculous. 33 credits were enough to graduate from the Imperial Academy, but now it was just the threshold of a first year to reach the truly big leagues.
The truth was that the classes of the Main Imperial Academy were the exact same, as were the courses. The level of resources, the quality of teachers, and the sort of prospects and connections you could make, however…
Those were very different.
Normally, only nobles and those with parents or ancestors that had complete meritorious feats could enter the Main Imperial Academy. This method here was for those who didn’t have such backers.
Theron originally had no intention of taking this route, but now he had decided to take it.
The irrational fury in his gut was still churning. He knew he shouldn’t, but he simply couldn’t help himself.
For maybe the first time in his life, he made the decision a 14-year-old boy would make.
He reached the central square of the Imperial Academy and waited patiently until it was his turn.
“Hello, I would like to challenge these courses, please.”
Theron slid his student badge over.
“Of course, one moment.”
The middle-aged woman at the desk was used to this routine, so she didn’t think much of it…
Until she slipped the badge into a formation disk hidden on her desk.
Her pupils trembled.
Theron didn’t say a word. This wouldn’t give him the 33 credits he needed just yet, but, if he was correct, it would trigger the exact sort of changes he wanted to see.