CHAPTER 236: CHAPTER 236: TWENTY-TWO DAYS

Noel stretched slowly, the stiff mattress of the Tharvaldur guest quarters creaking beneath him as he pushed himself up to a seated position. His limbs still ached slightly from the previous day’s combat, but it was a satisfying kind of soreness—the kind that let him know he was growing stronger.

There was no sunlight filtering through the stone walls of the mountain city, of course. Only the pale blue glow of mana-lamps embedded in the corners of the ceiling. He stood and wandered toward the small arched window, gazing out across the carved landscape of Tharvaldur.

Far in the distance, perched atop a central spire that jutted out like a stalactite flipped on its head, the city’s grand mana-clock ticked forward. The hands pointed to an early hour. Too early for the streets to be crowded. Too early for noise. The silence suited him.

From the floor beside his bed, Noir stirred and let out a long yawn, tail flicking as she stretched out her limbs.

"Good morning, Noir," Noel murmured without turning around. "Looks like today’s going to be another long one."

The wolf blinked sleepily and padded to his side, sitting down with her ears alert.

Noel’s eyes flicked upward as he opened the system overlay in his mind. A dull chime echoed faintly in his thoughts as the mission screen appeared.

[Mission: Find the 5th Pillar and deal with him.

Reward: ???

Time limit: 22 days.]

’Still ticking down... and I’m not much closer than I was two days ago,’ he thought, exhaling softly.

He turned away from the window and began gathering his uniform. The gray fabric with red accents still held faint creases from its last use, but it would do. As part of the Academy’s external council, he technically had more leeway in what he wore, but he preferred not to stand out—at least not outside the battlefield.

"Alright," he said as he slipped his shirt over his head, "First order of business: find Balthor and hand off the suit. Noriel should be able to fix it quickly if he gets it this morning."

Noir tilted her head slightly.

"And then," Noel continued, lacing his boots tightly, "I need to find Nicolas. There’s something I have to tell him. Now that we know who the Fifth Pillar is."

He paused, hands briefly still.

He added in a lower voice. "We’ve confirmed it. I saw it with my own eyes yesterday. But if we want to move on him, we’ll need a clean plan and the right timing."

He stood, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves with quiet determination. His reflection in the polished metal panel above the dresser looked composed—but his gaze was sharper now, colder.

"And today’s match won’t wait either," he muttered. "Luceria Grand Academy, huh? Guess I’ll find out if their reputation is earned."

He pulled on his gloves and exhaled through his nose.

"I should also double-check the matches Torwan listed. Placed a few bets—nothing major, but if I can come out of this richer than I started, I won’t complain."

A dry chuckle escaped his lips.

"Can’t keep relying on Elyra to cover everything. She paid for our last dinner. I didn’t like that. Not because of pride—just... responsibility, I guess."

Noir grumbled softly in agreement.

"I know," Noel said with a faint smirk, reaching down to pat her head. "Don’t start with the lectures. Let’s get moving."

With one last glance toward the distant mana-clock spire, he stepped out of the room and into the stone corridors of the hotel, already thinking several moves ahead.

The hotel restaurant buzzed with subdued energy, its stone arches catching the soft glow of mana-lamps overhead. Though it was still early, several students had already gathered around long tables, their uniforms a patchwork of academy colors.

Noel stepped in quietly, dressed in his official uniform: charcoal gray with crimson accents—Valor’s council design. He offered a nod toward the girls’ table, where Elyra, Elena, and Charlotte were seated, chatting softly over breakfast.

"Morning," he greeted, but didn’t linger. Instead, he made his way to the far side, where Laziel, Roberto, Marcus, and Garron had claimed a spot.

"Look who finally woke up," Laziel said with a grin.

Noel sat down without missing a beat. "Didn’t want to interrupt your beauty sleep by arriving too early."

Roberto laughed. "Careful, you’ll make Garron cry. He’s already in mourning."

Garron groaned, hunched over his plate. "I got manhandled by a girl two heads shorter than me. What’s there to joke about?"

Marcus leaned back slightly. "She wasn’t just any girl. That was Anastasia. She’s ranked top five in Luceria Grand Academy’s core rankings. I’ve heard she’s practically undefeated in their dueling circle."

"Great," Garron muttered. "Glad to know."

Noel stirred his drink, gaze steady. "She’s strong. But if it makes you feel better, I’ve seen bigger guys lose to worse matchups."

Laziel chuckled. "Yeah, and Noel’s about to fight someone from Luceria today too, right?"

"Mm." Noel nodded. "We’ll see how it goes."

"You planning to win this whole thing or just break a few bones along the way?" Marcus asked, half-serious.

Noel glanced at him. "I don’t like losing. That’s all."

"That’s never changed," Marcus said, sipping from his cup. "You still take every sparring match like it’s life or death."

Noel finished his breakfast calmly. "It’s not about pride. It’s about preparation."

"Right," Garron muttered. "Try not to kill anyone, okay?"

Roberto leaned over. "You leaving already? There’s still time before the first match starts."

"Yeah," Noel replied, pushing his chair back. "Need to pick something up before the crowds flood the streets."

Marcus raised a brow. "Shopping?"

"Something like that. I’ll see you all at the arena."

They exchanged nods and quick goodbyes. Noir followed silently, emerging from her shadow-form the moment they stepped into the open corridor.

The streets surrounding the arena were already stirring with motion. Merchants set up their stands beneath carved stone arches, and students from various academies moved in small groups.

Noel and Noir arrived first, taking a quieter side path until the silhouette of the arena towered over them. Near its west wing, just outside a modest café tucked between two enchanted blacksmith shops, Balthor was already waiting, arms crossed, his usual relaxed posture tempered by alertness.

"Morning, lad," Balthor greeted, eyeing Noel up and down. "Still wearing yesterday’s bruises like a badge, I see."

They entered the café together, choosing a booth away from the windows. The air was warm with the scent of roasted beans and sweet bread, a contrast to the cold stone halls outside. A waitress brought over drinks without needing to be asked—clearly, Balthor had been here before.

"So," Balthor began, stirring his dark brew, "you ready for another long day? With Torwan involved, I doubt any of this stays simple."

Noel exhaled through his nose. "Nothing ever does. But yeah, I’m ready."

"You check your bracket?" Balthor asked.

"Luceria," Noel nodded.

Balthor chuckled. "Let’s hope it’s someone with fewer titles and a worse attitude."

Noel reached under the table and pulled out the neatly folded green suit, still holding faint traces of battle. "Here. Take this in the morning, drop it with Noriel. It needs some stitching—nothing dramatic."

Balthor took the bundle with a theatrical groan. "Alrtight."

The dwarf rolled his eyes. "You’re lucky I’m generous. I’ll make sure Noriel puts some extra flair on it. Maybe add a few more scars for style."

Noel leaned back, sipping his drink. "By the way, did you place the bets?"

"Of course I did," Balthor said with a grin. "We follow the sequence Torwan laid out—win, loss, win, loss. Keeps things just believable enough."

"I just hope his students cooperate," Noel muttered. "If one of them steps out of line again... I don’t want any of them being crushed again or worse..."

"He said last night that the example you set would be enough," Balthor muttered, voice low.

Noel’s gaze drifted toward the arena entrance, his fingers tightening slightly around the cup. "If his students follow the betting pattern like he claimed, it’ll help us keep the charade going a bit longer."

Balthor leaned forward, lowering his voice further. "And if they don’t?"

Noel looked him straight in the eye. "Then we adjust. But either way... we keep playing along. Torwan can’t know we’re onto him."

Balthor nodded once, the tension plain in his eyes. He stood up, folding the suit under one arm. "Good luck in your match, kid. My coin’s on you. Don’t get killed—we still need to drag that bastard into the light."

Noel gave a faint, tired smirk. "I’ll do my part."

As Balthor melted into the thinning crowd, Noir trotted silently to Noel’s side. Her purple-tinted eyes locked with his for a heartbeat.

’He doesn’t know we’re circling him. Good. Let’s keep it that way... for now.’