Bookshelves lined every wall, overflowing with books. At the center stood a desk with two chairs facing each other.
In the chair facing the window sat a man. His hair was long and white, falling towards his shoulder, and his pale face held an unusual beauty reminiscent of a woman's. His sharp jawline and eyes so deep that they haunted others if one looked long, suggested the depth of his experience as he sat observing the person seated in front of him.
Seated in front was the former grand duke of Drakethorne, Ragnar Drakethorne. His face looked to be in his forties, but he had already passed his eighties. He had deep black hair and red eyes, which stared angrily at the man across from him. Despite Ragnar's anger, the man simply smiled and ignored it.
Ragnar growled angrily. He furiously slammed the desk with his fist, "Old man, why did you invite me here so urgently? Why have you been silent since I arrived? Speak something out of your mouth and stop smiling for once. Don't test my patience. I am stationed at the borders and need to return."
"Still as quick-tempered as ever. I remember you were the same as a child, Ragnar. Not a one bit of change." The man's voice was cool and unbothered.
The man facing Ragnar was Toren Velkar, principal of Silverine Academy—the continent's best academy. The academy was founded by many empires to nurture future talents. Ragnar had studied there himself. No matter how hard he looked at Toren's face, he saw no wrinkles, scars, or signs of age. He still remembered seeing Toren when he was barely thirteen or fourteen; the principal had not aged a day since.
"Just tell me why I'm here, or I will leave. I respect you, but don't test me." Ragnar's fingers drummed on the armrest—ready to stand up.
Toren Velkar put his hands on the desk and leaned forward to meet Ragnar's crimson eyes. "Ragnar, will your grandson join the academy or not? Why are you hiding him?" he asked clearly.
The question about his grandson left Ragnar momentarily stunned. His red pupils shook. "What are you trying to imply? He has three paragon ranks in his household. Why would he need to join the academy?"
Toren's smile was cold. "Is it fear? That he'll fail as heir, or die?" Rising to his feet, he mocked, arms wide, "Are you hiding him from the world, or is there something about him that you are trying to hide?" He arched his one eyebrow up.
Ragnar instantly summoned his sword from dimensional space, lifting it and ready to defend his grandson's honor against slander. His patience had worn down, and he couldn't bear to be mocked anymore.
Toren suddenly appeared next to Ragnar and stopped the sword's tip with his index finger. He cast a spell that made Ragnar unable to move the sword. Toren smiled, his white eyes fixed on Ragnar, who was straining to free the sword, and said, "Oh my! I did not expect the child whom I cared so much for to raise his sword against me, his very own teacher."
Ragnar gritted his teeth as Toren immobilized the sword. When he finally broke free, the blade left a slight cut on Toren's finger, but the wound healed instantly, erasing any sign of injury.
Toren returned to his seat and gestured for Ragnar to sit down as well. He said, "It seems you have gotten even stronger. Sit, child. I was only testing your powers. For a moment, you made my blood boil; this body has not fought in a long time and has grown weaker. You understand the feeling, right?"
Ragnar recalled his sword into his dimensional space and sat, glaring at his old teacher. The room filled with a thick, venomous haze as he tried to suppress his anger, aware that his teacher was only testing him.
Toren quietly advised, "You should control your anger; your grandson might start to fear you."
At this remark, Ragnar thought about Alex and retracted his aura, which was daring to lose and cause havoc. Finally, the room grew calm as breathing became easier. Toren raised an eyebrow, surprised at how protective Ragnar was of his grandson.
Toren chose the next words carefully. He had to speak this out, or else he was not sure of what would happen. He said, "The academy entrance will open soon. If your grandson again does not join this year, your house will become a laughingstock among the nobles. You've hidden him so well that people question his very existence. If you hadn't invited nobles to his naming ceremony, rumors would have been even worse. Many are even saying he is a bastard child." Toren cared for Ragnar and knew he had to press the subject further. He waited for the reaction, and it indeed came, with a force that he not seen coming.
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