Ch 47: Patrick Zendejas
Patrick Zendejas, son of the southern duke, stood in the boys' rows near the end of the line inside the auditorium hall. He had yellow hair tied back in a small single ponytail, and he wore a white shirt beneath a red coat with matching red pants and black shoes. His eyes were black and his build was regal, coupled with a good-looking face that carried the unmistakable air of noble blood.
The morning prayer had long since concluded and the professors and vice headmistress were exchanging pleasantries with the students, delivering the usual speech about the academy's motto, that everyone within these walls were equal and had to work themselves to the bone to grow stronger, because the world was no longer at peace. The empire had been waging war across all five fronts of the Kingdom's Union while the miasma beasts had begun striking with far greater frequency along the borders.
Same boring stuff.
Patrick yawned loudly and stretched his arms out wide. He had heard all of this so many times before that he wanted nothing more than to shut his eyes and drift off to sleep. He had woken up before dawn and had spent the early hours training his mana circulation while wearing the mana restriction bracelet Lucien had given him. He had seen enough progress already that he wanted nothing more than to slip away from the auditorium and start practicing again.
His blood stirred just imagining the moment he would finally succeed in casting tier two spells while still wearing the mana restriction bracelet. He was falling just short of it each time, but he knew that with enough patience he would manage to cast the spell without much struggle, and Lucien would have no choice but to acknowledge him, clapping a proud hand against Patrick's back and saying, "I am proud of you, Patrick."
Patrick felt a grin creeping onto his face at the thought of earning Lucien's approval. He did not care much for other professors or their opinions of him. The only person whose regard he had ever truly wanted was Lucien, who stood as a beacon of raw power unlike anything Patrick had ever witnessed. Despite being only a year older, not even a full year if Patrick's memory served right, only seven or eight months ahead of him, Lucien had already become a powerrank that need to be treaded carefully He was so much more powerful that Patrick felt like an ant standing at the foot of a mountain whenever he thought about it.
By any other measure, Patrick himself would have been considered one of the greatest talents of his generation. He had already achieved Elite [Upper] rank months before joining the academy, and he could feel his mana core slowly shifting, the gray color of his core was bleeding away and giving rise to red with only slight blemishes of gray still clinging to its surface. He would break through into Master [Lower] rank soon, and had it been any other era, he would have been hailed as a talent born once in several decades, perhaps once in a century.
But Lucien had robbed him of that distinction. Lucien had already attained Sky [Mid] rank despite belonging to the same generation. Patrick held no anger toward him for it. On the contrary, his blood ran hot with excitement at the mere thought of receiving guidance from someone like that.
He had admired Lucien since childhood. In his early, unruly days he had challenged him more times than he could count, and each time he had walked away bruised and bleeding. But rather than breaking his spirit, every defeat had only deepened his reverence. Lucien had become a mountain in Patrick's eyes, one he intended to climb someday and reach the very summit of.
From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the golden haired girl he had challenged the day before. He scrunched his eyes shut and tried to dig through his memory, which had never been the sharpest when it came to names. Melina? No. Melon? Definitely not. Ahh, Melissa. Yes, Melissa. Finally, he remembered her name.
He had challenged Melissa because he had felt something different about her, something he could not quite place, and previously he had seen her walking beside Lucien in the hallway. That alone had been enough to make him freeze in his tracks. Everyone gave way when Lucien walked the corridors. Students turned their heads and pressed themselves against the walls as though the air around him was too heavy to breathe. Yet this girl had been walking right beside him, unbothered, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Patrick had stood frozen in the hallway for a long moment, completely unable to believe his eyes. He had already been running late that morning, so absorbed in his training that he had missed the morning prayer entirely. He had heard whispers from students streaming out of the auditorium hall that Lucien was paying unusual attention to the girl, and that had rattled him even further. He had caught up with the exiting students and should have made it to class on time, but the shock had kept him rooted to the spot too long, and he had arrived late.
Lucien had screamed at him for it. Patrick had wanted to dig a hole in the ground and disappear inside it.
Lucien was like a god to him, and being scolded by a god felt nothing short of devastating. That first meeting after so many years of separation had turned to ash. He had imagined their reunion so many times, had imagined standing before Lucien with his head held high, showing him how far he had come, that he was no longer the reckless boy who picked fights he could not win but someone dependable, someone who could one day guard Lucien's back in battle.
Instead, Lucien had called him a worm.
He had been so humiliated that he could have cried. He wanted to shake himself and shout, why in the world were you late, you fool? He wanted to run back to Lucien and tell him that he was not a worm, that he was someone who would stand equal to him one day if given enough time. Because of that, he had cut his morning training shorter today than he liked and had made sure to arrive at the morning prayer without a single minute to spare. He would not give Lucien any more reason to look at him with that expression again.
He also regretted challenging Melina.. Melissa at the training field. Lucien had appeared out of nowhere, and the look in his eyes had sent a cold shudder straight through Patrick. Those eyes had carried something sharp in them, something that felt personal, as though Patrick had committed an offense he did not fully understand. Lucien had stepped in and duel the girl by himself, and right then Patrick had understood clearly that he needed to stay far away from that girl if he had any hope of salvaging his image in front of Lucien.
From the corner of his eye, he glanced at Melissa once more. She looked perfectly fresh despite having fainted during the battle, her recovery almost unsettlingly quick. Patrick shook his head and pulled his gaze away. He was done concerning himself with her.
Then Lucien moved.
Patrick's eyes snapped toward the raised platform where Lucien stepped up to the microphone. He wore a white dress shirt beneath a crisp black coat, a black tie neatly knotted at his collar, black trousers pressed crisp, and black boots polished to a mirror shine. He looked devilishly handsome in a way that made the whole room feel smaller.
"Become stronger and prove yourself," Lucien said, and then stepped back to rejoin the other professors.
His speech was as short as ever, yet every student in the hall had been listening with wide eyes and perked ears, not wanting to miss even a single syllable from the person everyone had long since regarded as the living incarnation of the god of war.
"Become stronger," Patrick repeated under his breath. He clenched his teeth and stared at Lucien with quiet, burning determination. One day he would stand beside him as an equal. He would make certain of it.
***
On Patreon, you can read 50 chapters ahead. Your support would greatly help me continue working toward completing the story.
Patreon link: /imissmysun