The Black Tower. Agora Institute.
When the large iron doors opened, steam poured out and a young man walked out drenched in sweat. He looked exceptionally intimidating as he furrowed his brows in frustration.
Carys did not feel too good about not making it past the sixth floor. Although no one would dare to point it out, he felt that he was lagging behind Vihrea, who had recently made the breakthrough to the 7th class.
He wanted to comfort himself with the fact that she was a woman, and women possessed purer constitutions than men. While even if it's true, it was not exactly the reason he was frustrated. It would be a lie to say he was not envious, because he was.
In the men's quarters, Vyron had his eyes closed as he lie in bed. Compared to before, he looked more exhausted, with visible dark undereyes and a sort of pale countenance to him. Wiping his face with a towel, Carys asked, "What happened to you?"
Vyron sighed and said, "Vihrea. I asked if I could join them in their training and I am exhausted. Is she still human? How is it she never seems to tire?"
He clicked his tongue in frustration and sat up. "I almost forgot to tell you. I'll only be joining you for training in the evenings. Hopefully, some progress will be made. I've had enough of my father asking if I've reached the 7th class yet. I'm afraid if I don't make any progress, he will have someone beat me up once I go back to the estate."
Carys nodded and understood his struggles. Humans were not born equal. Of course, with Vyron's lineage, it was impossible to be completely talentless. But with a long line of powerful ancestors, there was also the pressure to keep up and exceed their expectations. "I don't mind."
"That's good. Carys, you are honest and kind. But because you are too kind, you never tell it to me straight what I'm doing wrong. On the other hand, Vihrea is both intimidating in words and actions. She tells it to me as it is."
Kindness was not a weakness. But like every single thing in the world, it must be done in moderation. Too much kindness can still kill. Carys was not weak, but he did not feel he was leader material.
Carys looked taken aback but still nodded. "I see. Thank you for telling me."
He felt it was true. It did not occur to him that treating people with too much kindness would backfire. It was not as if he went out of his way to be one, such that sometimes he even felt that there was no need. But familiarity bred comfort, and it seemed natural to repay kindness with kindness.
Maybe there was a need to change.
Would interacting with Vihrea also help him?
He was not exactly at odds with her, but both of their unspeakable relationship with the headmaster bore some sort of animosity. Although he was curious, the headmaster rarely spoke of her and neither did she. It did not help that she felt hard to read and difficult to trust.
But that seemed rich coming from him.
In the mess hall, Vihrea sat in the corner of the hall, away from the cliques of people. People naturally formed connections with like-minded people, especially for a lucrative career as theirs. There was no point in isolation if no one would be around to celebrate your achievements and mourn your losses.
She suspected it was an ingrained culture of Werdolf, that was why Fleur was not fond of leaving her alone if she could help it.
Porte glanced warily at the person who intruded their lunch. "What is he doing here?"
He did not particularly dislike Vyron, but he did not like him either. He was more or less aware of the incident that happened between then before, but it did not seem right to pry when everyone actively avoided talking about it.
Vihrea spoke in a low voice, "He is here to eat with us, as what you do in the mess hall."
Porte did not like her response but did not retort and sulked, stabbing at his food.
Nothing more had been said. They continued to eat quietly, unperturbed by the noise around them. Before they knew it, Vihrea had finished her food and stood up.
"I need to go somewhere. Please do not try to kill each other while I am gone."
Fleur waved her hand. "With me here, there is nothing our dearest leader needs to worry about."
Just as soon as she had left, Carys walked in with a listless expression. He did not know where to go, so he followed where his feet led him to, which happened to be the mess hall. Vyron had noticed him and waved his hand to invite him to sit at their table.
The others did not seem to mind and nodded at him. At some point when had sat down, Fleur thought about how much of a pity it is for such a handsome man to be rarely seen in the premises. He did not mingle with his peers, rarely joined tournaments, and came as quick as he left.
A refreshing beauty, she mused in her head.
In the library, Vihrea perused through the stack of books concerning the manipulation of vitalis.Once you reach a certain level, weapons were inconsequential as you can manifest pure vitalis as your weapon.
In the continent of Eos, there were two major classifications of the blessed: Danda and Raksa. Of course, minor classifications were also included. You could either be a blessed warrior, a mage, an alchemist, a healer, and so on. It is only distinguished by what your vitalis can do. Either to protect or to attack.
The continent was vast, who knew how many blessed there were? But in the current era that saw the dwindling of blessings, even if you had meager talent, you'd make a modest living off of it. But having talent wasn't enough for her.
She needed to become someone that had enough power to find someone no matter where they were.
Patience is the key.
Perhaps a death defying ordeal would be able to let her break through? But the risk would be exponential and in the first place, where was she to find a place like that? She was not royalty, nor someone of importance.
Simply a meager genius in the contained area of Agora, where talents sprout up like weeds and a prop for the elite to show off. What would it take to get what she wanted?
The perusal of the books left no new information. At most, the best thing to do would be to head to Marmoris, the southeastern pearl that lie in a chipped off archipelago near the Wespia Sea. A place that barred the blessed. How would she even get there?
She closed the book in her hand and murmured, "A blessed is indeed a being born with a curse."
A few weeks had passed since the training with Kapfem started. Most people were confused as to why there was a specific training for such a tournament, when there had never been anything like this before. However, their questions were left unanswered as the elders refused to even speak of it.
From the hundred or so that started, only less than thirty had remained. The headmaster's request of training these talents... Talents he says but really there were no shortage of talents in Werdolf. He had tried to extract some information from the headmaster to no avail. Only that this was also for a specific person in the class.
But who? He could not put a finger to it.
No matter, he would soon find out who it was. A talent that the headmaster pays special attention to must be exceptional. And no exceptional person will pass him by.