CHAPTER 108: A NEW HOPE FOR CAMELOT

"Your room." Professor Cecilia said, ushering him in.

Noah stepped inside, eyes narrowing as he took in the space.

Compared to his old Stone-tier dorm, this was another world entirely.

The room was broad and airy, sunlight flooding in through tall windows that dominated one wall. The view stretched across the academy’s rolling grounds, its green courtyards and gleaming towers bathed in the orange glow of the descending sun.

Large blinds were folded neatly against the wall, ready to block the light entirely when needed.

At the center of the room stood a wide, cushioned bed layered with thick sheets and pillows.

On one side of the wall, a sturdy table and chairs waited, their surfaces polished and unmarred. Along the left wall stood a tall wardrobe. Its doors were currently closed. Cecilia gestured to it.

"Your belongings from the Stone-tier dorm have already been moved here." She explained.

Beyond the wardrobe, an empty bookshelf stood waiting, its shelves wide enough to hold anything from tomes to artifacts.

A door beside it led into an adjoining bathroom, private and tiled in smooth stone, a vast improvement from the communal washrooms Noah had endured before.

Noah ran his fingers along the table’s edge, studying the room.

His shadows whispered with mocking voices, cataloguing the luxuries. ’Soft sheets for the pampered. Private water for the precious. A gilded cage, nothing more.’

Cecilia walked to the table, picking up a parchment that lay waiting there. "Your new schedule." She handed it to him.

Noah unrolled it, scanning the elegant script. The classes were different now, adjusted to the Gold-tier’s curriculum.

Day One:

– Enchantments

– Theriology

Day Two:

– Spellcasting

– Pedigree & Etiquette

Day Three:

– Duels

– Diplomacy & Rhetoric

Day Four:

– Alchemy

– Practical Magic

Beneath it, written in smaller script, were the notes about the remaining days.

Day Five and Six: personal instructor sessions.

Day Seven: free day.

Cecilia folded her hands neatly. "You’ll notice the changes," she said gently. "Magical Theory has been removed from your schedule."

"At this level, it is assumed your personal instructor, me, will guide you in those lessons instead. Gold students require a more focused approach."

Noah’s eyes didn’t move away from the parchment.

Pedigree. Etiquette. Diplomacy. Words that meant little to him now but were enough to tell him the Gold-tier had been designed for the noble kids.

It was their playground, perfect for their games. It showed how their arrogance made it into the curriculum. His shadows sneered inside him, their laughter scraping against his thoughts.

Cecilia went on, her tone calm. "You’ve been given the next few days to rest. In three days’ time, it will be the first day of the week, and you will resume school with your new classes then."

Noah set the parchment back on the table, leaning back against the chair. His body still carried aches, but his strength was returning, drop by drop. He nodded once. "I’ll be ready."

Cecilia smiled faintly. "I know you will."

As she stood in the warm light of the windows, Noah studied the room once again.

Gold-tier luxuries. A schedule designed for the elite. And himself, clothed in their uniform, and wrapped in their plans.

His shadows whispered promises of what he would do with it all, how he would twist their gifts into the blades of their destruction.

Noah exhaled slowly, eyes cold. ’This would do. For now.’

[][][][][]

The royal tent stood at the center of the encampment, its thick canvas marked with the golden sigil of Camelot.

Inside, King Cillian sat hunched over his war table, eyes fixed on the sprawling map beneath his hands. His jaw tightened as he studied the lines. They were losing ground.

Then, the sound of hurried footsteps outside his tent made him look up. He was already half-risen from his chair, hand brushing the hilt of his sword.

He expected a messenger shouting of a breach, or a demon pushing their lines. Instead, the flap of the tent whipped open, and a familiar figure stepped inside.

High Magus Edric.

Cillian’s eyes widened. "Edric? What in the hells are you doing here? I thought the demons pressed further north. Were we overrun?"

Edric shook his head, his silver robes trailing faint dust from the road. His expression, however, was uncharacteristically urgent. "No. The lines hold for now. I did not come because of the front."

"Then why?" Cillian stepped forward, his hands still braced on the table.

Edric’s voice was calm but still held a measure of energy that betrayed his composure. "On my way here, I received a message. One important enough that I could not delay even a day longer."

Cillian frowned. "What message?"

Edric drew a folded letter from his sleeve, setting it on the war table. The royal seal of the Academy glistened faintly in the lantern light. "It concerns the ritual we performed. The one that brought the children."

The king stiffened, his gaze snapping up. "What about it?"

"The message says..." Edric’s eyes locked onto his king’s. "It worked."

The silence stretched for a moment, then Cillian leaned forward slowly. "Worked? What do you mean by worked?"

Edric’s lips curved into the faintest smile, though it was strained. "One of the summoned has shown potential. Not merely high. Not S, or SS." His voice dropped. "SSS."

Cillian froze. For a moment, his breath caught in his throat, as if he hadn’t heard properly. "SSS?"

Edric nodded. "Yes. SSS-rank potential."

The king staggered back, sinking into his chair. He rubbed his forehead with one hand, disbelief tightening his features. "That’s impossible. We all saw their potential plain as day. That was why we had the awakenings before the nobles. So, how can this be possible?"

"I thought the same," Edric admitted. "But the letter was clear. And there’s more."

Cillian’s eyes snapped back to him.

"It was the child that had initially awakened as FFF-rank. It seems he was not truly FFF. His race possesses a... racial effect. One that masked his true potential from view."

For once, Cillian was speechless. He pushed the maps aside, leaning back in his chair, staring at the lantern’s glow as if it might offer clarity.

"FFF..." he muttered. "The weakest. I remember him. He was mocked, shunned, why would..." He shook his head violently. "To think... our savior, hidden in plain sight."

Edric leaned in, his eyes hard. "Do you see why I rushed here, Your Majesty? This is not news we can delay. If it is true, then Camelot has been given more than a weapon. It has been given a chance to end this war forever."

The tent seemed to shrink, the air heavy with the enormity of the revelation.

Cillian exhaled slowly, his kingly mask sliding back into place. He rose to his full height, shoulders broad beneath his cloak of blue and gold.

"Then we cannot remain here another hour. If this child truly holds SSS-rank potential, then every second spent here is wasted. We ride for the capital immediately."

Edric bowed his head, relief flickering in his eyes. "Wise as always, Majesty."

Cillian’s gaze hardened. "If this is true... then the kingdom has found its savior. Our people will rally. The nobles will have no choice but to fall in line. The demons will tremble."

He slammed a fist against the table, rattling the markers. "And if it is false..." He met Edric’s eyes. "We will find the truth ourselves. And whoever forged such a lie will suffer for daring to raise false hope."

The High Magus inclined his head. "Yes, my king."

Cillian pulled his cloak from its peg, fastening it at his shoulders. He turned to the guards standing outside the tent, their armor catching the pale glow of dawn. "Break camp. Prepare the carriages. We return to the capital. Now."

And so the guards saluted, rushing to obey.

Cillian’s jaw was set like stone as he spoke. "If the boy truly is what you say... then this war’s end is just over the horizon."