The moment I woke up and stepped out of my dorm, the air felt different.
Heavy.
Like everyone had suddenly remembered I existed—and decided to stare at me for it.
Students lined the hallway, pretending they weren't looking. Some whispered into their hands. Some avoided my eyes like I was a walking explosion. Some, the bold ones, looked directly at me with a challenge burning in their gaze.
I was tired of it already.
Two days unconscious, one day relearning how to breathe without collapsing—now this.
A parade.
For me.
Great.
Varein walked beside me like my self-appointed bodyguard. His posture straight, spear strapped across his back, face set in that annoyingly calm way of his.
"You're doing good," he murmured.
I snorted. "I'm walking."
"Yes," he said. "But you're walking while everyone watches. Most students would crack."
"I almost did," I muttered.
Almost.
The truth was… the pressure still dug claws into my chest. Every whisper scraped at my nerves. Every stare reminded me of the stupid title they slapped on me.
Boy of Promise.
I didn't feel like someone full of promise.
I felt like someone who was recovering from blowing up an arena.
But as we walked, as the whispers carried—fear, excitement, jealousy, curiosity—I realized something:
They were going to talk whether I cared or not.
So why care at all?
A small breath escaped me.
Not quite relief.
But steadier than before.
"I'll get used to it," I muttered.
Varein's eyes flicked to me. "You will."
But that wasn't the end of it.
Because while the academy buzzed like a nest of hornets…
The higher-ups were having their own storm.
The Royal Chamber
Inside a towering marble hall, the King Leon IX sat at the oval table, fingers interlaced. His eyes were sharp—far too sharp for someone wearing such a calm expression.
"An uncontrolled awakening," he murmured. "At fourteen."
Queen Lucina lifted her teacup, hiding a flicker of intrigue behind the rim.
"Awakenings driven by will alone… how rare."
Prince Leo leaned forward, excited.
"Father, does this mean he'll be invited to the capital?"
Prince Landon scoffed.
"Or observed from afar. We don't even know if he can control it."
Princess Lillith said nothing—only twirled her hair and smirked.
Then the doors opened.
Commander Mordred stepped in, followed by General Izekel and the four knight captains currently at the academy: Zenite, Dragoneth, Veyren, and Korrina.
The tension thickened.
Mordred bowed.
"Your Majesties. The academy requests guidance. The boy's potential is not in question. But whether he should receive elevated training…that is the debate."
Knight Captain Zenite spoke first—cold and practical.
"If he collapses again, he could do real harm."
Dragoneth grinned. "Or real good. I vote to test him. Hard."
Veyren folded his arms.
"He has no control. Not yet. Throwing him into advanced training prematurely could break him."
Ma'dam Korrina chuckled softly.
"Or forge him."
General Izekel cut through their clashing opinions.
"Rain of Ignis possesses willpower unmatched by his peers. He protected another student while forcing open a dormant core. Most recruits die attempting that."
The king tapped the table thoughtfully.
"…So the question stands.
Do we let him climb alone?
Or do we build a path for him?"
No answer came.
Not yet.
I didn't know any of that was happening.
All I knew was that the academy halls felt too loud, and my legs still burned from training, and my sword pulsed faintly every now and then like it was trying to talk to me.
Sir Aldred wasn't gentle today.
Not even close.
"Again," he ordered.
I gripped my sword. My arms shook. My core pulsed in weak, uneven waves. Aura control was… irritating. It felt like trying to grab light with bare hands.
I inhaled—
A spark of blue shot out and cracked against the ground.
Aldred grimaced.
"…Better. But still unstable. Again."
I wanted to collapse.
I also wanted to succeed.
Both feelings battled in my chest until I forced the weaker one down.
"Fine," I muttered. "Again."
And again.
And again.
By the time we finished, I was lying on the courtyard floor, staring at the sky, chest heaving like I fought the Demon King or something.
Aldred loomed over me.
"You're improving."
"Didn't feel like it."
"That's because you're impatient."
"I'm fourteen."
Aldred snorted. "You act eighty."
I almost laughed.
Almost.
Students gathered at the edges of the courtyard as I pushed myself up.
Oh gods, Theon was there.
He waved at me with enough enthusiasm to break his arm.
"HEYYY RAIN!! GOOD JOB!! LET'S TRAIN TOGETHER AFTER DINNER!!"
I died inside.
Aldred sighed. "You made a mistake letting him bond with you."
"I didn't let him do anything," I muttered.
But even with Theon's… chaotic enthusiasm, something felt different today.
The stares didn't dig as deep.
The whispers didn't sting as much.
The pressure was still there—but my shoulders didn't feel like collapsing under it anymore.
I wasn't comfortable.
But I wasn't drowning.
And maybe that was enough for now.
On my way back to the dorms, the whispers followed again.
And for the first time…
None of it buried me.
I tightened my grip on my sword, feeling its faint pulse, like steady breathing.
Let them talk.
Let them doubt.
Let them expect.
I didn't need to prove anything to them.
I just needed to climb.
Slowly.
Steadily.
Relentlessly.
Not because of the title.
Not because of the pressure.
But because I wanted to stand at the top.
For myself.