CHAPTER 32: PUNISHMENT

The rift responded with a soundless hum, and a moment later, Miss Leslie’s hand re-emerged holding a single parchment.

It was matte black with ink lines of dim purple. The spell formation etched onto it pulsed gently, shadows curling up from the parchment’s surface like mist from a grave.

Miss Leslie handed it to Noah with both hands.

"This is your spell parchment." She said. "To learn Devour, you’ll need it."

"The first time you cast the spell, it’ll draw from the energy contained within the parchment to complete the formation. Once cast, the spell imprints itself on your soul. That’s how the information of the spell you learn appears in your status window."

Noah held the parchment carefully. The material felt warm in his hand, like coiled magic waiting to spring free.

The complex lines of the formation were dizzying to look at. Lines within lines, loops of energy woven into a dense language of hunger.

He nodded slowly.

’So that’s why Fireball glowed when Geldrin scribbled it on the board,’ he thought. ’The glow faded after I learned it because the spell had been claimed.’

Miss Leslie continued, "Once you’ve learned the spell, the parchment will turn to dust. That’s standard."

"Most spells need this process, because learning directly from the formation alone and without the energy would require weeks of experimentation and precise mana manipulation. Some mages might never even get it right. That’s why spell parchments are so expensive and so tightly regulated."

Noah gave a small grunt of understanding, gently folding the parchment and tucking it into the inner pocket of his uniform. His fingers lingered there a moment longer, brushing the edge of the dark spell as if drawing strength from it.

"Thanks," he said.

Miss Leslie nodded again. "Use it wisely."

Without another word, Noah turned and walked out of the room.

He’d almost forgotten how quiet the halls of the library could be. His footsteps echoed against the smooth stone floor as he turned toward the stairwell.

His new destination? Professor Cecilia’s office. His punishment awaited. And then, once he was done there, he would find a quiet place.

And learn how to Devour.

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Noah finally found the narrow hallway that led to Professor Cecilia’s office.

It had taken longer than expected. Her office wasn’t in the faculty building like the others but tucked away at the upper end of one of the older towers right next to it. A quiet place, virtually isolated from the rest of the academy.

He knocked twice.

"Come in," came her voice through the wooden door.

He pushed it open.

Her office was neat and orderly, with bookshelves pressed tightly against every wall. Sitting haphazardly on the shelves were scattered leatherbound books, mixed with different odds and ends.

A map of Camelot and the surrounding territories hung beside the window, a dozen pins marking key locations. Behind her desk, Cecilia sat upright in her chair, a quill poised above parchment.

Her golden eyes found him immediately.

"You came," she said, setting the quill down and folding her arms. "Good."

Noah stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He didn’t speak.

She watched him for a moment, then leaned back slightly.

"Let’s begin with this," she said. "While Damian Krell broke no written rules, his actions were not befitting the standing of this institution. But you, Noah Webb, walked on a razor’s edge."

Noah said nothing, waiting.

"Using attacks with the potential to cause permanent damage... that is dangerous," she said. "No matter how justified your actions are, that rule exists for a reason. Not out of mercy. Out of protection. Do you understand?"

He frowned slightly, then nodded.

Cecilia continued, "There are noble families in this kingdom who won’t care about school rules. If you injure the wrong person, they’ll wait until you’re alone, outside these walls, and they’ll retaliate in a way you won’t survive."

Cecilia steepled her fingers before her, leaning forward, and holding his gaze.

"This academy can protect you, Webb, but only if you give it the chance. Be mindful of who you fight, and how."

Her voice softened a touch. "I say this because I’ve seen it happen."

Noah looked down briefly, processing that. Then he nodded again.

Cecilia stood and walked around the desk. "Now, your punishment."

He raised an eyebrow.

"For three hours a day, on the fifth and sixth day of the week," she said, "you’ll report to the library and assist the staff with whatever tasks they assign you. You’ll do this for the next three weeks. That’s your punishment."

Noah blinked. "That’s it?"

A faint smile touched her lips. "Did you want something harsher?"

"No." He said quickly. "Just making sure."

"Good." She said, returning to her seat. "Dismissed."

He turned to leave.

"And Noah?" She said, just before he opened the door.

He glanced back.

"Try not to burn anyone else for a while."

Giving her a nod of acknowledgement, Noah stepped out of Professor Cecilia’s office, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

With the spell parchment tucked securely in his inner pocket, he made his way across the academy grounds toward the eastern sector, where the private training halls were located.

The building was newer, with gleaming stone steps and polished blackwood doors. Golden accents framed the entry arch, and the crest of the Royal Academy was embossed above it.

Inside, the lighting was softer than in other parts of the academy, a steady glow maintained by enchanted lamps built into the walls.

Noah approached the long, curved desk near the entrance. A bored-looking attendant in dark robes looked up.

"Name?" The attendant asked.

"Noah Webb. I’d like to use a private hall."

The attendant tapped a glowing orb embedded in the desk, checking something. "No instructor listed under your name."

"I don’t have one."

The attendant blinked, then shrugged. "Alright. In that case, it’s ten bronze coins for a two-hour slot."

Noah’s jaw clenched. It wasn’t too expensive, but it still stung.

The attendant added, "Students with personal instructors don’t pay. Their fees are covered by their instructors. Most Silver and Gold-tier students never pay a coin. Only when they want to use the halls for personal training."

’Of course they don’t.’ Noah thought bitterly.

Everything was designed for them. The top-tier students had instructors, scrolls, and tokens handed to them. People catered to them, supported them. Even their access to resources came wrapped in privilege.

For students like him, Stone and Bronze-tier, forgotten and ignored, every inch had to be clawed for.

But he didn’t have a choice.

He couldn’t learn Devour in public. Not in the training fields or the spell practice arenas. Too many eyes. Too much risk. A single glance at the parchment and someone might try to snatch it, or worse, tell someone stronger.

He reached into his pouch, pulled out a gold coin, snapped it till he got the amount he needed, and dropped it on the desk with a dull clink.

The attendant took it, placing it into a shimmering slot on the orb. "You’ll be in Room Twelve. Down the right hallway, third door on your left."

Noah nodded, collecting the key, and walked toward the hall.

’Let’s see what you can do, Devour.’