Chapter 15: Scott
Raven nodded eagerly and dashed off to his bedroom, the new clothes clutched tightly in his arms. The door swung shut behind him with a thud of excitement. In his absence, Athena turned to Shirley, her eyes glistening with gratitude.
"Thank you for everything, Aunt Shirley," she said softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Shirley smiled, warm and steady, and placed a reassuring hand on Athena's shoulder.
"You don't have to thank me, dear. We're family. And family always looks after each other."
Together, they finished preparing dinner as the aroma of herbs and warm broth filled the cozy kitchen. When Raven reappeared—dressed in a neatly fitted tunic and breeches, his eyes shining with pride—they all gathered around the table, the day's weariness fading into laughter and warmth.
Later, they dimmed the lights and cut the cake. Raven's eyes sparkled in the candlelight as he made his wish and blew out the flames, the smoke curling into the ceiling like a whispered promise. That night ended with shared slices of cake, the sweetness lingering on their tongues and in their hearts.
Raven turned eleven.
…
Days folded into weeks, and the weeks into seasons.
Each morning, Raven rose with the sun, dressed in the academy's uniform, and trudged off to Knight Training School. He practiced diligently: the Wintermoon Spear Dance Technique, physical exercises, and classes on theory and etiquette. The early lessons focused on the basics—grip strength and spear handling—for nearly a month. Later came more complex drills: stances, thrusts, side sweeps, defensive parries, footwork, and circular slashes.
He wasn't alone. Around him, hundreds of students honed their skills in Spearmanship, Swordsmanship, Archery, Dagger Arts, and more. The academy brimmed with potential—each student guided by a unique path and specialized instructors. At the end of every month, sparring matches were held to determine rankings.
In the beginning, Raven held his own, surviving matches through sheer effort. But as the months passed, his ranking slipped. From promising to average. From average to disappointing.
And two years passed in the blink of an eye.
Despite his determination, Raven saw no significant improvement in his strength or skill. His practical scores plummeted. Once among the top ten, he had fallen to 90th place. If not for his excellent written exam grades, he might've ended up at the very bottom.
The teachers' glances turned colder. Students whispered when he passed. Some didn't bother to hide their disdain.
Worse, mana circles began appearing in the hearts of his peers—marks of talent and magical growth. But Raven remained the only one without even a single circle.
Even the Headmaster, Agatha, summoned Athena to suggest that Raven consider dropping out.
And then came the bullying.
His peers—those who once chatted and trained beside him—now avoided him or turned cruel. Among them was Scott, a boy from a powerful family, who led a group of tormentors. Raven had clashes with them often, and the most painful part wasn't the bullying—it was the silence from others.
Even Mary, once his friend from childhood, had grown distant. She ignored him in class and treated him like a stranger.
Only Chris still talked to him—an old friend from Class 4, who occasionally came by just to check on him.
Raven learned a painful truth through these moments: hardship revealed people's true faces. By the end of his second year, only three people remained by his side.
The first was Dante—a short, black-haired boy with no family background to speak of. Raven had once used the monocle artifact to glimpse his potential and found surprising results: High-Rank Wind Affinity and High-Rank Sword Affinity. Dante wasn't top ten material, but he consistently held a spot between 20th and 30th—until things began to unravel.
At the end of the second year, Dante became Scott's new target.
The bullying was relentless. They humiliated him, extorted money, dragged him outside the Academy for mysterious tasks. His grades suffered. Raven tried to intervene, but he, too, felt powerless. What angered him most was the complicity of some teachers, who began using Dante like a servant, piling tasks on him with no reward.
Raven clenched his fists often.
'Even the teachers… are involved in this?'
Then there was Chris, ever supportive, always kind.
And finally, Daisy—a pale, soft-spoken girl from the Spade family. She had High-Rank Water Affinity and rarely spoke, yet she never left Raven's side in class. She'd help him with tests, sit beside him during lessons, and offer quiet solidarity when he needed it most.
Among the few constants in Raven's life was Elizabeth, his etiquette teacher. Despite the Academy's shifting attitudes, she never gave up on him. She even had a public argument with Professor Reid once for treating Raven unfairly.
Raven often found himself wondering about her motivations.
"Haa... I'm not sure what she's thinking." He sighed, standing by the second-floor window, his gaze drifting across the courtyard below.
Now in his third year, his classroom had moved to the third floor. From up here, he could watch the training grounds, the pathways, even the distant city walls beyond the Academy's iron gate.
"Athena said she won't be picking me up today... I guess I have to walk."
He looked at the wall clock: 6:30 P.M.
The school was eerily quiet. His classmates had long gone. Slinging his bag over one shoulder, he locked the classroom door behind him and descended the stairway. The hallways echoed with his footsteps as he moved through the grand foyer. The Academy, now nearly deserted, held a stillness that made his skin prickle.
Just as he was about to leave through the main entrance, a familiar voice called out.
"Raven? You haven't left yet?"
He turned. A boy with a lean frame, short stature, and square face stood holding a heavy stack of books. Dante.
"What are you doing here?" Raven asked, surprised.
"Professor Reid asked me to move some books from his office to the fourth-floor library," Dante muttered. "I've been hauling them for an hour, and I've barely moved twenty percent."
Raven frowned. "Why even bother with that man? You know he won't give you a single mark for doing chores."
A bitter smile twisted Dante's lips. "You wouldn't understand. Anyway… good luck with your studies."
He turned and continued climbing.
Raven stared at his back, heart heavy. After a pause, he called out,
"Wait. I'll help."
He ran after him and took half the books from Dante's hands.
"You don't have to—"
"I want to," Raven interrupted. "Maybe I can't change the past, but I can at least stop watching in silence."
Dante didn't reply, but his steps grew steadier. Together, they carried the heavy volumes up the winding staircases to the library. When the final book was shelved, the sun had dipped beneath the horizon.
The Academy was deserted. Only two gatekeepers stood by the compound gate, talking to a group of unfamiliar men.
As they approached the exit, Dante suddenly froze.
His hands trembled.
"No... what is he doing here? A test? At this hour?"
Raven followed his gaze and saw Scott among the group—smirking, surrounded by four grown men. The gatekeepers made no move to interfere.
"Scott?" Raven narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, 'test'?"
Dante stepped back, pale-faced.
"We're outside the Academy now. If he tries anything, I'll report this. My sister—" Raven's voice was cold, angry.
But before he could take another step, Dante grabbed his arm.
"Don't... Don't do anything reckless. He's not someone we can afford to offend. I made a deal with him. It's nothing serious."
His voice was firm, but his body shook with barely concealed fear.
Raven looked at him—truly looked.
The trembling hands. The hunched posture. The haunted eyes.
Something was very wrong.
And Raven's gut told him this night wasn't going to end quietly.
Cold voice rang out from the shadows.
"Hey Dan, didn't I tell you to come to my house after school?"
Startled, Dante turned and saw a tall figure emerging from the dim street light—Scott.
"S-Sorry, Scott! I forgot!" Dante stammered.
"It seems someone needs a beating."
Scott's casual threat sent a chill down Dante's spine. He recoiled instinctively, nearly tripping.
Raven caught his arm and steadied him, then stepped forward protectively. His sharp gaze locked on Scott.
"What are you doing?" Raven asked, voice like steel. "Dante isn't going anywhere with you tonight."
Scott's smirk widened as he strode through the academy gate, his footsteps heavy with confidence.
"Oh? Isn't this our class's bottom-feeder?" he mocked.
Compared to two years ago, Scott had changed. He was broader, taller—muscles hugged every inch of his body. His presence now carried weight.
Raven didn't back down. He stood firm, shielding Dante like a wall.
"You really don't know your place, do you?" Scott sneered. In the same breath, he clenched his fist, subtle mana crackling around his knuckles. He moved fast—far faster than before—and aimed a punch straight for Raven's stomach.
His form was precise. Clean. Trained.
[Move to your left and counterattack.]
Zera's calm voice echoed inside Raven's mind even before the attack came.
Raven reacted instantly, pivoting left with practiced footwork. Scott's punch sliced through empty air, but the mana force still tore through Raven's shirt.
'Athena's gift!' Rage flared in Raven's eyes.
Before Scott could adjust, Raven raised his left leg and drove a brutal kick into Scott's groin.
Scott collapsed with a strangled cry.
"ARRRGGHHHHHH!"
His scream echoed through the academy gates like a bell of warning. Two nearby guards stiffened. From the shadows, two armored men rushed toward the scene.
"Young Master Scott!"
The men flanked him—one blonde and well-armed, in his thirties; the other middle-aged with graying hair and no visible weapons. Both looked like professionals.
"Are you alright, Young Master?" the older man asked.
Scott was panting, his face twisted in pain. Then his bloodshot eyes locked onto Raven.
[That look… It's not good. You need to run—now.]
Zera's voice rang with urgency.
Scott's voice dropped to a chilling murmur.
"Drag him back to the house. I'll make him pay in blood."
Dante's face drained of color. In a panic, he ran forward, trying to intervene.
"Please, Scott! Don't! If you do this, it'll only make things worse—"
SLAP!
Scott's open palm struck Dante with vicious force. Dante spun and crumpled like a ragdoll onto the concrete floor, unconscious.
Raven's expression twisted with fury and horror. But his instincts screamed at him to move.
I need to hide inside the academy. If I can last an hour, Athena or Aunt Shirley will come.
He spun on his heel to flee—but a towering figure blocked his path.
A 180-centimeter wall of muscle loomed before him.
"You're not going anywhere, kid."
Before Raven could react, the man's hand clamped around his throat and lifted him effortlessly. Raven kicked, gasping.
"Don't kill him yet," Scott ordered from behind.
Obediently, the man let Raven drop—only to land a crushing blow to the nape of his neck.
Darkness swallowed him.
Scott walked over, sneering.
"This bastard…" He kicked Raven in the gut, then turned to his men.
"Take both of them. When they wake up, I'll show them hell."
He strode toward the academy gate.
One of the gatekeepers, shaken, stepped forward.
"Y-Young Master Scott! Please, don't act recklessly! If the Headmaster finds out—"
"She won't care about talentless trash. If you keep quiet, no one will know what happened."
His voice was calm—too calm.
The guards exchanged uncertain glances as the armored men hauled Dante and Raven away.
…
15A Alm Street, Commoners' Borough, Darkcross Town — 8:30 PM
Shirley stepped into the moonlit lawn of a modest single-story house. Tall and lean at 160 centimeters, she wore her blonde hair in a tight braid. Her sharp blue eyes and hawk-like nose made her look fierce and regal.
She was armored in black and brown leather. A long sword hung at her waist.
Reaching the door, she knocked twice and called out:
"Raven, I'm home! Open the door!"
Silence.
She knocked again—louder this time. Still nothing.
She frowned. "Is he not home yet?"
Walking briskly to the porch pillar, she retrieved a hidden key, opened the door, and stepped inside.
Darkness. The house was silent.
'Athena said she had night duty today… but Raven should've been home by six.'
A cold knot formed in her stomach.
Despite Darkcross's reputation for safety, Shirley had lived long enough to know that evil often wore a familiar face.
She locked the door behind her and left at once, hailing a carriage to the police station near the western gate.
…
The station was a modest two-story building. Two constables stood at the entrance in greenish uniforms. One of them—a young female officer—brightened upon seeing her.
"Greetings, Madam Shirley! What brings you here at this hour?"
"Is Athena inside?" Shirley asked, her tone clipped and sharp.
"Yes, ma'am—"
Shirley didn't wait for permission. She stormed inside.
The station's main hall buzzed with murmured complaints and rustling papers. Officers sat behind desks, attending to civilians. But Shirley's eyes swept the room with practiced speed.
She spotted Athena's office and marched straight toward it.
"You can't go in! Madam Athena is in a meeting with an important guest!" the young constable called after her.
Too late.
Shirley threw open the door.
Inside sat Athena and a man in his twenties. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Dressed in a black trench coat and a bowler hat. He stood up, startled.
Baron's third son—Lionel.
"A-Aunt?" Athena stood abruptly, flustered. "What are you doing here?"
Shirley ignored her, her gaze drilling into Lionel. Though she spoke politely, there was a quiet ferocity in her eyes.
"Sorry for interrupting your 'sweet little chat,' Young Master Lionel. Something urgent came up, so I didn't bother knocking. You don't mind, do you?"
Lionel gulped. "N-Not at all, Lady Shirley. We weren't discussing anything important—"
"Then I'll borrow Athena for a moment."
He nodded and quickly exited, avoiding her glare.
Athena turned to her aunt, wide-eyed.
"Aunt, what was that? That's Lord Lionel! A noble!"
"And you're a royal," Shirley snapped. "Now isn't the time for this."
She took a deep breath. "Raven's not home."
"What?" Athena's brows furrowed. "He should've been back by 6:30. Maybe there's a late class?"
"I thought that too," Shirley said. "But it's 8:45 now. Something's wrong."
Athena's expression changed. The tension hit her like a slap.
"8:45...? That's too long."
"Exactly. I say we check the academy first."
Without another word, Shirley turned and left. Athena followed close behind, telling the staff to manage things while she was gone.
She found Lionel in the hallway, quickly explained the situation, and joined Shirley outside.
Within moments, their carriage departed, heading for the Nobles' Lawn at full speed.