The Darklord Who Just Wanted a Nap
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The academy was on fire.
Not literally—though someone in the Alchemy Department had come close—but in the way that every hallway echoed with whispers, gasps, and the occasional sentence that made me consider crawling back into bed for a week.
> "He killed a Stonefang Boar with a stick."
"He didn't kill it, he insulted it until it died!"
"They say he didn't blink once during the whole fight."
"Is he possessed?"
"No. He's too calm. He's probably a god."
I was just trying to get to breakfast.
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The Cafeteria Incident
My tray had three pieces of fried potato, two eggs, and a piece of toast that looked like it regretted its life choices. I sat in the farthest corner of the mess hall, alone, peaceful, and surrounded by silence.
Until the ceiling exploded.
Literally.
From the skylight above, a blur of silver and blue dropped with a thunderous crash, shattering a decorative chandelier and landing in the middle of the cafeteria like a meteor that had taken fencing lessons.
Students screamed. Mages drew staves. Sword-users jumped up.
And from the middle of the dust cloud, a voice declared:
> "KAEL VAELTHORN! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST… for being too cool!"
Silence.
I sipped my orange juice.
A boy about my age stood heroically with a half-unbuttoned uniform and a ridiculous royal cape, grinning like he'd just invented gravity.
> "What?" I asked.
He pointed dramatically. "I, Prince Cyran Velcaryn, second son of the Imperial Family, hereby charge you with crimes against mediocrity!"
Someone coughed. Another person clapped slowly, confused.
Cyran ignored them all and marched over.
"I saw what you did in the Trial. You—bam!—wielded the stick of justice. You—whoosh!—flipped the laws of physics. You—snore!—did it without even caring. I respect that."
I blinked.
He sat next to me without asking and whispered, "I also brought snacks."
He produced a wrapped meat pie from under his cape and pushed it toward me.
"…Thanks," I muttered.
"No problem. I'm your biggest fan. You're cool. You're cold. You're… probably cursed, but I like that."
He took a bite of his own pie and continued talking through crumbs.
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Thriller Thread Begins
Somewhere in the upper tower of the Academy, Principal Vaelaria stared at an empty chair.
Instructor Halden—the senior observer of the Trial of Ascent—had gone missing overnight. His last known location?
The review room, watching Kael's Trial footage.
The last written line in his notes:
> "This boy is too calm. Something's wrong. I need to…"
The rest was ink smudges and a single black feather.
The room was now under lockdown.
Vice Principal Caine sipped tea.
"Should we question the boy?"
Vaelaria narrowed her glowing gold eyes.
"No. Let's observe. For now."
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Action Strikes Back – The Shadow Beast
Back in the cafeteria, Cyran was showing me his "new illusion spell" that turned his head into a pumpkin when—
A screech pierced the sky.
Windows shattered.
Something fell from the clouds—a black-winged creature, eyes glowing crimson, a summoned beast meant only for combat trials. And it had somehow broken loose.
A Level 6 Shadow Drake.
Screaming. Students ran.
Cyran summoned a glowing blade. "This is my moment!"
He rushed forward.
Tripped.
Fired his magic backward.
The spell ricocheted off the wall and hit the floor near me.
The tiles cracked under my chair. My tray flipped.
My toast landed on the drake's face.
It roared.
I stood slowly, brushing off crumbs.
> "You interrupted my breakfast."
The drake lunged.
I kicked my chair at it.
Not a flying kick. Just a lazy, annoyed push.
The chair hit it square in the snout.
It slipped, tripped over the broken tile, and smashed into the wall with a whimper.
Unconscious.
Everyone stared.
Cyran blinked.
> "...You defeated a Shadow Drake… with furniture."
"I was hungry," I said flatly.
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Aftermath
The crowd parted.
Even Riven, the protagonist, looked pale.
Elira, standing on the second floor balcony, clutched the rail.
Lyra, hiding behind a food counter, peeked out like a bunny with anxiety issues.
And Cyran?
He fell to his knees dramatically and shouted:
> "MASTER! Take me as your disciple!"
"I'm not a master," I muttered.
"Too late!" he said, clinging to my cloak. "We're partners now! This is destiny!"
I tried walking away. He followed. Like a golden retriever with royal blood.
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