Chapter 142
The news that Caron would be giving a special lecture at the academy spread like wildfire—right alongside the gossip that he had slapped Engel Leroy across the face within moments of his arrival.
The problem was that the rumors had taken a wildly unexpected turn—completely contrary to anything Caron had anticipated.
"Caron Leston?"
"Are you serious? The Caron Leston is here?"
"Wow, the headmaster must really be desperate for reappointment. How on earth did he manage to get Caron Leston?"
"Professor Ulysses from the history department used to be Caron Leston's tutor."
"Ah, that explains it! And they say Caron Leston put that smug Engel in his place the moment he showed up?"
"Word is, he couldn't stand seeing injustice. You know that commoner who's been getting bullied by Engel's gang? Apparently, Caron was so moved when he heard the kid's story, he even cried before stepping in himself."
"That's Incredible."
"He's a true hero."
Fame really was something else. You could crap on the floor, and people would still applaud. Right now, that was precisely Caron's situation.
"The academy is abuzz with praise for you, Young Master. Did you foresee this kind of response?" Ulysses asked, his face showing more life than it had in years.
Caron's unexpected popularity seemed to have revived the professor from his near-dead state, and even the principal, Octavio, had rushed over in a flurry of excitement.
"Such a bold stand for a commoner! It reminds me of Duke Halo's own youthful exploits. Your burning sense of justice is truly inspiring, Mr.Caron," Octavio gushed, practically fawning.
Caron stepped forward and sighed under his breath. He wondered why life was so mercilessly unpredictable. He lamented that nothing in the world ever went his way.
"I slapped a kid way younger than me, and this is how they react? Clap for me? Seriously?" Caron complained.
At that, Octavio glanced around cautiously. When he was sure no one else was nearby, he leaned in and whispered, "Well... Engel Leroy has a reputation, and it's about as bad as it gets. If you knew half the things he's done—"
"Then you should have expelled him a long time ago," Caron interrupted bluntly.
"As you're well aware, there are... complicated factors. On behalf of the academy, I sincerely apologize for the trouble," Octavio said.
Caron knew exactly what those "complicated factors" were. It was a matter of politics.
Engel's father, Marquis Leroy, was a powerful noble that Caron was also well aware of. They were closely aligned with Marquis Kieran's faction, one of the empire's three great political powers. Marquis Leroy also happened to be the Minister of Finance, a figure of significant influence.
"Now that his son's been humiliated... He won't let this slide," Octavio warned.
Caron smirked and said, "Let him try."
"Well, no one in their right mind would challenge the Ducal Family of Leston—" Octavio began, but was cut off.
"Exactly. Besides, I'll be gone as soon as the lecture is over. Let them chase me if they dare," Caron interrupted with a chuckle.
There truly was no reasoning with him.
Caron turned to acknowledge the students waving enthusiastically in his direction, offering them a mechanical smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He mused to himself, "I wonder if this is what it feels like to be a famous actor."
"Comparing yourself to an actor, Mr. Caron? No, no! You are an idol to countless people—far beyond any mere actor," Octavio said.
Caron had no doubt about how Octavio had secured his position as principal. His talent for flattery must have been unmatched.
With a dismissive wave, Caron steered the conversation elsewhere. "Earlier, Sir Luke mentioned a series of murders happening in the capital. Can you elaborate on that?"
He had mulled it over after Luke left. There had been no real reason for the latter to bring up the murders, which made it feel more like a subtle signal—one hinting at something sinister behind the crimes.
Octavio frowned slightly, but said with a nod, "It's true. Since about a month ago, murders have been cropping up on the outskirts of the capital. According to a friend of mine in the security force, they've classified these as serial killings."
"Serial killings?" Caron repeated.
"Yes. Each victim was found with their neck savagely torn open, as if it was done by an animal. Unfortunately, that's all I know at this point," Octavio said.
That detail only made the situation stranger.
It's not as if a lion or a tiger would be roaming the capital, Caron thought. His curiosity piqued, he decided he'd have to ask Sir Zerath about it later. The Imperial Guards' involvement suggested layers of intrigue hidden beneath the surface.
He nodded slowly before giving the principal a pointed look, then asked, "So, did you have a chance to review my lecture outline?"
Octavio eagerly rubbed his hands together and bobbed his head. "It was outstanding work! A lecture on character education—it was a revelation! I'll be sitting front and center to absorb every word."
"...You live such a diligent life," Caron said.
"Haha! What choice do I have? Since I've fallen out of Marquis Leroy's favor, I have only one refuge left, don't I?" Octavio replied.
Caron was surprised that Octavio had even calculated that. The principal was practically a walking exhibit on climbing the ranks of academia.
"Mr. Caron—no, Young Master—I assure you, I will do my utmost to assist you," Octavio said.
Such cooperation was precisely what Caron wanted. After all, his eyes were set far beyond today's lecture.
"I took a little stroll around the academy," Caron mused, "and I noticed there are quite a few... formidable rivals."
In particular, he was thinking of the noble students, who oozed privilege and entitlement. Even from a distance, they radiated the unmistakable energy of brats destined to grow into world-class troublemakers.
"I'm glad I came. You see, weeds need to be stomped before they can take root," Caron explained. Since he had made the trip to the academy, it only made sense to leave a memorable mark behind.
Caron smiled at the principal with thinly veiled satisfaction before adding, "Soon, true equality will reign in the academy. On that note, Principal Octavio, there are quite a few student clubs here, right?"
"Yes, we encourage club activities to foster diverse student interests," Octavio replied.
"Perfect," Caron said.
He glanced at the cluster of students still gawking at him and waved at them. Then, in a smooth, velvety voice, he added, "In honor of my lecture, I'm thinking of founding a club."
"Ah, well... Forgive me, but only students are allowed to establish clubs under academy regulations," Octavio explained..
Caron fixed him with an unbothered stare, his expression bold and unapologetic. He said, "Then make me an honorary graduate."
"Yes, yes. There are ways, after all. Certainly, there's always a way... May I ask what kind of club you plan to create?" Octavio asked.
"Reformation," Caron answered.
"...Pardon?" Octavio asked.
"A club for reforming students. For the good of the academy—and ultimately, the empire—we must nurture individuals of sound character. Don't worry, I'll have my founding members ready by tonight," Caron explained.
In that moment, Octavio saw madness glimmering in Caron's eyes.
Thus, what would be the largest club in the history of the academy—Reformation—was established.
***
The slums on the outskirts of the capital stretched far, a place soaked in the bitter stench of blood.
In a damp, hidden basement, a masked man kneeled, his voice hushed as he addressed his master. "Commander, have you heard the news?"
"What news?" the man referred to as Commander asked.
"Caron Leston is giving a special lecture tomorrow morning in the academy's auditorium," the masked man answered.
"Is that so?" the Commander replied.
He smiled as he turned his gaze to his subordinate, remarking, "A rather picturesque opportunity, wouldn't you say? How far has the Imperial Guards' investigation progressed?"
"They've only uncovered traces of our test subjects' existence. So far, there's been no significant action on their part," the subordinate answered.
The Commander sneered and said in a tone dripping with cynicism, "A few deaths in the slums won't stir those dogs. Their purpose is to clean up after nobles, nothing more."
The subordinate silently nodded in agreement.
"Peace," the Commander continued, "blinds people. In that sense, this empire has basked in its comfort far too long."
He stood slowly, his movements deliberate, and walked to a metal cage pressed against the wall. Inside, a huddled group of people trembled, their eyes hollow with terror.
"If it weren't for that hypocrite, Halo Leston, the empire would be better off today," the Commander said. He then reached into his coat, pulling out a paper-wrapped slab of beef and tossing it into the cage.
The captives shrieked, their fear turning into frenzy as they scrambled for the meat. The scene was more savage than any ordinary fight between animals, a pure contest for survival.
The Commander's lips curled into a satisfied smile as he watched them. After a moment, he returned to his seat and said, "We'll need to change our plans."
"Just say the word," the subordinate responded.
"I hear Caron Leston's fame is shaking the empire. They say he's the heir to his grandfather's legacy, a hero in the making," the Commander continued.
"That's true. Even the Southern Queen believes he'll be the one after Halo Leston," the subordinate agreed.
"Send the test subjects into the academy," the Commander ordered.
The subordinate's eyes widened as he met his commander's gaze. He lowered his voice cautiously and asked, "Will that be alright?"
The academy was no ordinary institution. Its defenses included powerful detection spells from the Imperial Magic Tower and various means to identify all kinds of dangers in advance. Some even claimed it was second only to the Imperial Palace in terms of security.
But the Commander only chuckled darkly and nodded, then said, "Magic can't identify the test subjects. We've already proven that."
"But Commander, if this goes wrong, the entire capital could turn upside down. Please, reconsider harming the academy's students—" the subordinate began, but was cut off.
Whoosh.
A dark aura flowed from the Commander's hand, coiling like a serpent around the subordinate's neck.
"G-Ghhk..."
The subordinate clawed at his throat as the Commander's icy voice echoed. "A mere hunting dog dares question its master's decision?"
"I-I'm sorry, I was wrong..." the subordinate replied.
"If you fools had done your job well four years ago, Caron Leston would already be dead. How much have we lost because of your incompetence?" the Commander continued. His eyes burned with contempt as he glared down at his subordinate as if looking at a bug.
"Everything I do is for the empire. The fools blinded by peace must be awakened. There is no other way," the Commander explained.
"P-Please... F-Forgive me..." the subordinate stuttered.
"Tsk, tsk," the Commander responded.
The dark aura loosened its grip, and the subordinate collapsed with a thud, gasping for breath.
"Go infect a few commoner students at the academy, then bring them here," the Commander instructed.
"...What about their parents?" the subordinate asked.
"The same as always," the Commander answered.
"Yes, Commander," the subordinate responded, then with a bow, he hurried out of the basement.
The Commander rose again, his expression dark with resolve. He muttered, "Caron Leston..."
Four years ago, when they attacked that boy's train, they had never imagined he would survive, let alone grow into the young man he had become. A single unpredictable factor had derailed their grand scheme. So much had been lost because of one boy.
But this time, things were going to be different. This time, Caron Leston would realize just how powerless he truly was.
"For the glory of the Orias Empire," the Commander said to himself.
The empire was diseased. The nobles squabbled like vultures, and the commoners had grown selfish, tearing each other apart for scraps.
Peace had done this to them. It was time to strip that peace away and fill the void with fear. Only then could unity be forged anew—just as the great ruler he'd once served had envisioned around fifty years ago.
"...For the glory of the late Emperor," the Commander said, then bowed respectfully toward a portrait hanging on the wall. In a low voice, he murmured, "I shall carry on Your Majesty's grand will. So, please watch over me."
Sssrrrrr.
Writhing black mana flowed from him. The ghost of a bygone age was still alive and breathing.