CHAPTER 242: CHAPTER 242: INSIDE THE WEB

Noel shifted slightly in his seat, straightening his back. The room was still quiet, the table between them solid and grounded—just like the weight of the truth about to be shared.

"Well... guess it’s my turn," Noel said, his tone even. "I’ll start from the beginning. Just like you did."

Balthor glanced sideways as Noel cleared his throat.

"This all goes back to Valon. One day, I told Balthor that his brother was still alive. That I had proof—or at least, strong reason to believe it."

Nicolas raised an eyebrow, interrupting immediately. "Who gave you that information, Noel?"

Noel hesitated.

He couldn’t say the truth. That he just knew, because the System told him.

So he lied.

"There’s a vagabond network," he said simply.

Nicolas leaned back slightly. "And what would vagabonds know about something that sensitive?"

Before Noel could answer, Balthor jumped in.

"You’d be surprised," he said, arms crossed. "The vagabonds know everything. They’re everywhere—in the alleys, the rooftops, the inns, the stables. They hear things no one else does. And if you pay the right price, they’ll give you what you need. It’s one of the few things you can always rely on in this world."

Noel suppressed a sigh of relief.

’Looks like that worked. Good.’

He cleared his throat again and continued. "Anyway, Balthor was supposed to come with me to Tharvaldur... but the idiot dwarf rushed ahead and arrived two weeks early."

"Hey," Balthor grunted.

Noel ignored him. "He said he didn’t find anything useful. But he did—he just didn’t realize it."

He leaned in slightly, voice calm but firm.

"You’re aware of the betting scene here, right?"

Nicolas gave a small nod. "Yes. The betting system isn’t exactly hidden. It’s tolerated... to a degree."

"Well," Noel said, "there’s more to it than what’s shown on the surface. There’s a second layer—off the record. Underground betting. And it’s not just for fun. The matches are being rigged."

Nicolas’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes sharpened.

"I’m assuming you’re referring to the student matches within the Tharvaldur Institute of Arcane Might?"

"Exactly," Noel replied. "They’re not all fake. But some wins and losses are clearly being influenced. And based on how precise Torwan’s predictions were, I’d say he’s the one pulling the strings."

Balthor grunted in agreement. "Didn’t take long to notice something was off. Too many fights shifting momentum in ways that don’t make sense."

Nicolas exhaled. "We noticed. And the other directors did as well. We even brought it up to Director Torwan."

Noel raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"He played dumb. Claimed he knew nothing. Since the manipulation only damaged the reputation of his own academy, and ours benefitted in terms of prestige... we let it go."

Noel’s gaze sharpened. "That would make sense—if Torwan wasn’t the one behind it."

Nicolas leaned forward slightly. "You’re certain?"

"I am."

A pause.

"Then... that confirms my suspicions."

"You already suspected him?" Noel asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Nicolas nodded slowly. "I did. But it’s... complicated. We can’t take action directly."

"Why not?" Balthor asked, leaning forward with a frown. "If my brother’s dirty, expose him."

Noel shook his head. "You forget who he’s tied to."

Nicolas answered calmly. "Torwan is under the protection of King Tharvaldur himself... and several of the wealthiest noble houses in the region. Acting against him without proof, without preparation—wouldn’t just be political suicide. It could start a conflict."

"A war," Noel muttered.

Nicolas didn’t deny it.

"That’s why we’ve kept it quiet. But we’re still watching. King Alveron placed him on a silent suspect list."

Noel nodded. "Then we’re aligned."

Noel leaned forward. "We need to figure something out—because this is affecting the students."

He paused, then looked Nicolas in the eye.

"See, Headmaster Nicolas, before he started rigging the fights with enhancers to win and... whatever method he uses to make others lose, the student who opened the tournament was literally crushed by one of Torwan’s thugs."

"So for our part we have already started to act." Noel said. "And we’ve already made some progress from the inside."

He exchanged a glance with Balthor, then continued. "Thanks to Balthor, we gained access to the underground betting scene. We’re operating under a name with weight."

Nicolas tilted his head. "What name?"

"The Estermonts."

Nicolas’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Your girlfriend’s family... Elyra von Estermont?"

Noel paused. "The same. She doesn’t know, obviously."

He frowned slightly. "And also... how do you know she’s my girlfriend?"

Nicolas smiled faintly but didn’t answer.

Noel sighed. "Whatever. The point is, we’ve been placing bets according to Torwan’s predictions. Every match has aligned so far, which gives us credibility. And more importantly—we’re building capital."

"Capital that you’ll use to get closer to him?" Nicolas asked.

"That’s the plan," Noel confirmed. "We’re supposed to meet with him again today. Depending on how he acts, we’ll see how far we can push."

Nicolas nodded slowly. "Good. I’ll try to coordinate something with King Alveron in the meantime."

He looked directly at Noel now. "And remember the item I gave you."

Noel tapped the side of his belt pouch. "I’ve got the Recall Sigil with me at all times inside my pouch. If something happens, I’ll call immediately."

Nicolas remained silent for a moment, then exhaled through his nose.

"For now, that’s everything..." he said, pausing briefly. "Noel, boy... be careful."

He looked straight at him—no formality, no title. Just a warning.

"I told you this before, but you seem to attract trouble. Maybe it’s not a coincidence. Maybe something’s pulling it toward you. I won’t stop you from moving forward... but if anything happens—tell me. No excuses."

Noel nodded. "Understood. I’ll keep you informed."

He stood, adjusting his coat. "We’ll be leaving now, Headmaster Nicolas. Thanks for the information."

"Take care, Noel."

Balthor raised his mug slightly as he got up. "Till’ later, Nicolas."

They stepped out of the private chamber, the heavy door clicking softly behind them.

The arena corridors still echoed with distant cheers and magical bursts. Students were still fighting, and the tournament continued without pause.

Noel and Balthor returned to their seats without saying much.

The crowd, the lights, the noise—all came back into focus.