CHAPTER 46: CRIMSON THORN

Julie Wartin smirked. "Do you want me to help you? With that little thought of yours?" Her voice was teasing, but her eyes were calculating. She knew exactly what he was thinking, and she was already maneuvering for an advantage.

Lucian Crowe arched an eyebrow. "And what thought do you presume I have?" The question was a challenge, a test to see if she was as clever as she pretended to be.

"That magic skill Kael Vi-rel showed," Julie Wartin replied smoothly, tapping her chin with a finger. "Rather useless, don’t you think? Flashy, yes. Practical? Barely." She was baiting him, pushing his buttons to see his reaction. She knew he wouldn’t agree with her, but she wanted to hear his thoughts on the matter.

Lucian Crowe let out a low chuckle. "Useless, you say? It’s true the skill is... unconventional. But useless? Not quite. It is functional, albeit limited. It won’t surpass certain boundaries." His gaze hardened. "But sometimes, even a limited tool can be dangerous in the right hands." He was not a man to dismiss a potential threat, no matter how small it seemed. He had seen too many "limited tools" turn into world-ending weapons.

Julie Wartin tilted her head, studying him. "You sound like you admire him."

Lucian Crowe’s lips curved into a faint smile. "Admire? Perhaps. The fact remains his skill is unique. It’s not something recorded in any grimoire or known to the academies. It has a time-consuming activation process, yes, but the very idea behind it..." He shook his head slowly. "Kael Vi-rel is a genius. Even if he doesn’t realize it yet." It was a grudging admission, a respect born of rivalry. He saw in Kael Vi-rel a reflection of the raw talent he himself possessed, a talent that had not been polished or contained by the rules of the system.

Julie Wartin’s grin widened. "A genius with shackles, then. Because at the end of the day, he has only that magic skill, his basic wind affinity, and a sword at his hip. Nothing more." She was painting a picture of a man who was all potential and no power, a brilliant mind trapped in a novice’s body. She saw him not as a rival, but as an opportunity.

"And yet that may be enough," Lucian Crowe countered, his tone sharper now. He knew that raw talent, when guided by sheer will, could be more powerful than any a long list of skills.

Julie Wartin raised her hands in mock surrender. "Relax, I’m not insulting him. I’m simply pointing out the reality of his situation. No powerful lineage backing him. No aristocratic family name to shield him. And from what I’ve seen, no deep experience in the field either. He’s fumbling, making mistakes, surviving by sheer will and a bit of luck." She let the words linger before leaning closer. "Which means he’s exactly the kind of person we can mold." The proposition hung in the air, a silent question. Would he see the potential in this boy, or would his pride blind him?

Lucian Crowe turned fully toward her now. His dark eyes narrowed. "What are you suggesting, Julie Wartin?" The question was a low growl, a warning. He was listening, but he was wary. He knew her schemes were always complicated, always self-serving.

"I’m suggesting we give him a seat," Julie Wartin said, her voice low, yet carrying a weight that demanded attention. "At Crimson Thorn." The words were a shock, a calculated risk. She knew he would be resistant, but she also knew he would be intrigued.

The silence between them stretched. Lucian Crowe’s gaze returned to the crowd below, watching as adventurers bickered over rewards and contracts. He said nothing, but his thoughts churned. He was weighing the risks and rewards, the potential for a powerful ally against the risk of a new rival. Kael Vi-rel was a variable, and he hated variables.

Julie Wartin, sensing his hesitation, pressed on. "Think about it. A talent like his, wandering aimlessly? Wasted. But under our banner, with our resources, our training he could become something far greater. Someone useful." She was offering a golden cage, a promise of power and protection that would come at the cost of freedom.

Lucian Crowe folded his arms, his mind already calculating. "Or someone dangerous if he outgrows us." He was not naive. He knew that the most dangerous people were the ones who were grateful.

Julie Wartin laughed softly. "Then we’ll just make sure he doesn’t." Her eyes, sharp and predatory, held no malice, only the cold, hard glint of ambition. She saw Kael Vi-rel not as a person, but as a tool, a weapon to be forged and then controlled. The conversation was over, but the game had just begun.

For Nexus Hero Academy’s high school students, completing a certain number of volunteer hours was mandatory.

There were the typical ways to fulfill the quota: sweeping streets, cleaning public areas, distributing supplies. Most students, however, avoided such menial work. It was tedious, unrewarding, and offered little for their reputations or careers.

Instead, the smarter or more ambitious students joined volunteer clubs. These clubs were considered elite by the student body: a combination of social gathering, networking, and a chance to earn prestige among peers.

The ’Crimson Thorn’ was one such club. Known as a hub for the academy’s influential and wealthy students, it was led by Lucian Crowe, a freshman who had quickly risen to prominence due to his skill, charisma, and unshakable presence. Julie Wartin, a fellow first-year, had once sought leadership herself but now stood respectfully beside him.

Behind them, fifty students stood in rigid formation, waiting for Lucian’s commands, their expressions a mixture of fear and admiration.

In the center of the club’s grand hall, a boy sat on a sofa so extravagant it looked out of place, even for a prestigious academy. Lucian Crowe.

Julie couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth as she looked at him calm, confident, and terrifyingly commanding all at once. She knelt beside Mors, trembling slightly. Mors, heir to a prominent company, was reduced here to nothing more than a student under scrutiny a nobody. Julie silently cursed herself. If anyone could make excuses, it was Mors... yet he had a way of making everything worse.

"Raise your head. Look at me," Lucian said softly, though his voice carried through the hall like steel. "I don’t understand. Why are you so afraid?"

Mors hesitated but obeyed, lifting his head with slow, careful movements.

"Good," Lucian continued, eyes narrowing. "Now, I want your explanation. Start speaking."

Julie started, "That’s... actually"

"Julie," Lucian’s voice cut through her nervously stammered words, "please. This time, don’t try to defend him."

"S-sorry!" Julie stepped back, her teeth clenched. She whispered a silent prayer for Mors. Please, don’t say anything foolish...

Mors opened his mouth. Excuses tumbled out: sickness, exhaustion, inability to complete the magic circuits that Kael Vi-rel could finish effortlessly. Every word sounded hollow, yet Lucian’s calm, sharp gaze dissected each one.

"So," Lucian said, leaning forward, his elbows resting lightly on his knees, "you claim you were not at 100%... yet the dungeon in the library, the hidden challenge you were assigned... was cleared by someone else. Correct?"

"Yes..." Mors muttered, voice barely audible.

"And you call yourself loyal to the Crimson Thorn?" Lucian’s tone was deceptively soft, but every word struck like a blade. "A loyal subject wouldn’t allow someone else to claim the prize that was meant for them, no matter their condition."

Before Mors could respond, Lucian’s hand shot out not violently, but with precise, almost surgical force. He pressed Mors down, pinning his shoulders, keeping him in place without a sound, his control absolute.