Aris froze.His throat burned, but no words came out.He wanted to say stop.He wanted to tell her, "Don't defend me."Because the more she spoke, the more the crowd turned on her.

But this was still Sylvia, the girl whose gaze was cold enough to freeze fire.

"You all talk about bloodlines as if your own don't reek of rot.""If his mother were a prostitute, then at least she earned what she had. Can you say the same? YOu all disgust me, behaving as if you're the holiest of all."

Gasps rippled through the courtyard.The students stepped back — not from fear, but from outrage.

"You're insane," one of them hissed."You think that filth deserves to stand beside us?""You're ruining your own name for someone like him!"

And that was the wound that broke him.

Aris couldn't breathe.Sylvia's voice faded into static.All he could hear was the pounding in his chest — a single, screaming thought echoing through him:

She's defending me… and because of me, they'll hate her too.Because of me, her name will rot like mine.

His chest tightened until it hurt.He stumbled backward, his eyes trembling with tears he refused to let fall.

"Aris—" Sylvia started.

But he turned and ran.

"Yeah, run."

"Disgusting flth."

Sylvia turned to them. "I said I don't want to hear another word."

"You can't force us to reek of such a disgusting presence!"

The voices faded in Aris's mind as he ran.

He didn't care where.He didn't see the faces, didn't feel the ground beneath his feet.The courtyard walls blurred into streaks of light and shadow as his breath tore through his throat.

He just ran.Away from them.Away from her.Away from the weight of his name.

Away from reality.

The dining hall was restless.No laughter, no chatter—just murmurs that crawled like insects under the skin.

Aramith and Mozrael sat in silence as plates clinked faintly around them. Every table seemed to buzz with the same words, the same rumors twisting through the air.

"They said he stood against his father… in front of ambassadors.""A prince calling the king a tyrant? How stupid can you be?""No wonder he was banished."

Mozrael's spoon trembled in her grip. Each whisper was a needle, piercing deeper and deeper.

She looked at Aramith, expecting even the slightest flicker of reaction—but his expression didn't change.He was calm. Too calm.

"You're just going to sit there?" she muttered.

He didn't lift his gaze from his plate. "They're just words."

"Words?" Her voice cracked slightly, low but sharp. "They're calling you a traitor."

"Maybe I am."The answer came flat and quiet—but it silenced her all the same.

Mozrael looked away, jaw tightening. His calm used to reassure her. Now it made her uneasy.

"Aramith… you're not the only one they're talking about."

He finally looked at her.

"They said I was adopted," she whispered bitterly. "That your parents took me in to serve you. That I was your pet."

The word pet stung like frostbite.Her fingers curled into fists.

He sighed faintly, setting down his spoon. "Then they're desperate for entertainment."

"Don't act like it doesn't bother you!" she snapped quietly. "They think I'm your servant. That all I've done—every duel, every achievement—was handed to me because of you."

Aramith leaned back slightly, eyes flickering toward the nearest group of whispering students.They quickly looked away.

"Then let them think what they want," he said. "If you start reacting, they win."

But his calm only made her angrier. "You don't understand, Aramith. They're not whispering anymore—they're laughing."

One of the groups nearby snickered.Mozrael's patience broke.

A chair screeched as she stood abruptly, fire gathering faintly at her fingertips.

The laughter stopped.Eyes turned.

"Mozrael," Aramith said, voice low but firm. "Don't."

She froze. His tone carried no threat, only calm.

"If you act now," he continued, "they'll twist it again. They'll say the prince's pet bites whoever mocks her master."

Her jaw trembled. The words were cruel—but true.

Slowly, she sat down. Her magic faded into smoke.

Silence swallowed them again.Even the whispers dimmed.

For a moment, it felt like victory, though an empty one.

When the bell rang, signaling class, they stood without a word and walked toward the upper floor—the one place in the academy where others dared not enter.

The Class of Three—Aramith, Sylvia, and Mozrael.The only safe place left.For now.

But in all this, a question was left unanswered, and it gnawed at Aramith.

Who was responsible for spreading these rumors? And how did the person get this information?

The room was still, and none of them uttered a word.

Mozrael was furious, and Aramith remained calm.

He knew Sylas had something to do with it, but as to how he came to get such information....it was hard to tell.

If he knew this beforehand, he would have used it to his advantage earlier on, but he didn't.

Which means someone got him to find out only recently.

Sylvia was still out, whether searching for Aris or dealing with the rumors, he couldn't tell.

They remained in class till later when Sylvia appeared.

"I can't find my dog," she announced as she sat on the table opposite Aramith.

Aramith guessed she would be this kind of person, but he was still surprised.

"You're not surprised to find out about my true identity?" He asked.

"And what does that change?" She asked rhetorically. "You're still stronger than me, and that's that. Your past doesn't determine who you are. Though I wonder how Sylas—"

"Sylas," Mozrael hissed and stood up.

She stormed out of the classroom without a second to spare.

Aramith frowned.

He won't be able to stop her without using force in this situation.

Sylvia looked at the open door, then Aramith.

"If she's not stopped, I'm sure she'll do something terrible to Sylas. I'm not strong enough to do that, Aramith."

Aramith shook his head.

"No need to follow her. Where's Sylas?"

His calm was thinning now. Beneath it, a storm was starting to stir.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.