The Hidden Monster of House Vale

Lucien sat in the carriage, his golden eyes fixed on the window as the landscape blurred past. Celbeth lounged beside him, her crimson hair spilling across the velvet seat, while Evelyn sat with rigid posture, her hand never straying far from her sword hilt.

Today was their first day at Astral Academy.

Astral Academy is a place where realm masters learn about the world. It's not just a place to learn—it's about politics, about opportunities, about influence. Realm masters aren't disciples that need to be pampered. The environment is strict. This world is cruel. Being a realm master can never be easy. One simple mistake and they're dead. There are many ways a realm master can die without even being killed—they can die during a breakthrough, while exploring dungeons and labyrinths, while seeking inheritance opportunities. They can die in politics. This world is cruel... but not much different from my previous world.

His reflection stared back at him from the glass—long golden hair, eyes like molten amber, features that could have been carved by a master sculptor. He'd grown used to this face, though sometimes it still felt like wearing a mask.

"Lucien, you're brooding again," Celbeth said, not bothering to open her eyes. "We're not even there yet."

"I'm observing," he replied, his voice carrying that familiar indifference that made even his friends uncertain.

"The sky? The trees? The dust?" She stretched languidly, her blood moon katana shifting against her hip. "Very riveting."

Evelyn said nothing. She never did when she had nothing worth saying.

Lucien's eyes narrowed as the carriage slowed. Through the window, he could see a commotion on the road ahead—a crowd of rough-looking men surrounding a broken carriage. Two figures stood in their midst, wearing the distinctive uniforms of Astral Academy disciples. Mortals, both of them. The disciples were mortals too.

Bandits. Robbers. The same vermin that plague every road in every world.

They had shot down the carriage with arrows to stop it—which meant they already knew who was inside.

"Stop the carriage," Lucien ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The vehicle lurched to a halt. Celbeth's eyes snapped open, her hand instinctively reaching for her blade.

"What happened?" she asked, fully alert now.

Lucien stepped out of the carriage, his golden hair catching the morning light. The bandits—a dozen or so strong, rough-looking men armed with swords, axes, and crossbows—turned toward him. The two disciples, a boy and a girl, looked terrified. Their uniforms marked them as mortals, and their trembling frames confirmed it.

Lucien's gaze swept over the scene with clinical detachment. The girl had short black hair and wore a green dress that resembled an army uniform top paired with a long skirt that concealed her thighs. Her face was pale with fear. Beside her, her childhood friend—brown hair, similar uniform but with pants instead of a skirt—stood with his fists clenched, trying to look brave despite the tremor in his hands.

"What's going on here?" Lucien asked, his tone carrying the weight of someone who was merely curious, not concerned.

The bandits studied him. His fine clothes. His bearing. The golden eyes that held no fear.

"It seems like we'll have to kill this noble," one of them said, spitting to the side.

Another laughed, hefting his axe. "Attack him at once!"

Lucien closed his eyes and sighed.

Before the bandits could take more than a single step, Celbeth was already moving. Her blood moon katana sang through the air, a crescent of crimson that painted the morning red. Heads flew. Bodies crumpled. She moved with the grace of a dancer and the lethality of a predator.

Evelyn followed a heartbeat later, her own blade claiming lives with cold, surgical precision. She didn't waste a single movement.

It wasn't a fight. It was pest control.

The difference between a realm master and a mortal was vast, even at the mid-tempering body realm. These bandits never stood a chance.

Blood soaked the ground. The two disciples stared at the carnage, their faces pale. The girl looked like she might be sick.

Lucien approached them with a warm smile that seemed utterly at odds with the slaughter that had just occurred. His golden eyes softened, and he radiated an almost angelic warmth.

"Are you two okay?" he asked gently.

The girl swallowed hard, her hands trembling at her sides. "Y-yes, my lord. We're okay. Thank you."

"I'm Loric," the boy said, stepping forward to shield his companion slightly. "And this is Rhea. We're... we're first-years. First day."

Lucien nodded, his smile never wavering. "You'll be late if you try to walk from here, and your carriage is destroyed. Come with us."

"N-no, my lord, we'll be fine—" Rhea started.

"It's our first day at Astral Academy," Lucien interrupted gently. "I don't think it would make a good impression to be late on the very first day. Would it?"

Celbeth appeared beside him, her katana already cleaned and sheathed. Her smile was sharp, playful. "Yeah, and our carriage is quite big. Plenty of room."

Lucien resisted the urge to roll his eyes. That's all you could say? 'Quite big'?

Loric and Rhea exchanged a glance, then nodded in unison.

Inside the carriage, the atmosphere was tense. Loric and Rhea sat stiffly, clearly unused to such luxury. Lucien had returned to his position by the window, his attention fixed on the passing scenery.

Celbeth produced a bottle of wine with a flourish, pouring glasses for everyone.

"N-no, I don't think we should drink," Loric said quickly. "We're about to start the—"

"Live a little," Celbeth purred, pressing a glass into his hands. "Consider it a celebration of starting a new life at Astral Academy." She winked at Rhea. "Wine makes everything better, trust me."

Rhea blushed but accepted the glass, taking a small sip. The warmth spread through her chest, loosening the knots of fear that had tightened there.

"Your swordwork was incredible," Loric said to Evelyn, who had barely moved since entering the carriage. "I've never seen anything like it."

Evelyn glanced at him with cool eyes. She didn't respond.

Loric's cheeks reddened, but he couldn't look away from her. Something in her quiet intensity drew him in.

"So why were you surrounded?" Evelyn asked suddenly, her voice flat but not unkind.

Loric blinked, pulled from his reverie. "We were on our way when the carriage got attacked. They demanded we hand over all our valuables. They were holding Rhea hostage—" He shot a protective glance at his companion. "I wanted to fight, but she was in their hands. I couldn't risk it."

Lucien's golden eyes cut toward him briefly. There was no hatred in that gaze, no judgment—just the mild interest one might show when observing an insect. Then he looked away, yawned, and returned to watching the world pass by.

"Wow, that sounds scary~" Celbeth said, her voice dripping with theatrical sympathy.

"Are you... are you nobles?" Loric asked hesitantly.

"Not me or Evelyn," Celbeth said, pointing toward Lucien. "He's the only noble here."

Loric's eyes brightened. "You're a noble? A realm master?"

Lucien didn't respond.

Loric's attention shifted back to Evelyn, his cheeks flushing again. She met his gaze with unreadable eyes.

The rest of the journey passed in silence. Loric kept sneaking glances at Evelyn while Rhea clutched her wine glass like a lifeline. Celbeth hummed softly, occasionally offering commentary on the passing landmarks that no one asked for.

Before they knew it, the carriage was slowing. They had arrived.

The moment Lucien stepped out of the carriage, the crowd erupted.

"It's Lucien Vale!"

"Champion of Princess Sylvie—he killed another champion with his own weapon!"

"I heard he killed countless people in the Ancient Breach!"

"He's already reached the peak of the Spirit Forge realm. The youngest to ever do it!"

"So beautiful..."

"Who are those? What are mortals doing behind him?"

"Isn't that the Scarlet Valkyrie?"

"Lucien Vale has the Scarlet Valkyrie with him? Why?"

"I heard they fought a lot in the Ancient Breach... but what are they doing together?"

"Isn't that Evelyn? The mortal who defeated a realm master during the Trial of Entrance to Astral Academy?"

"Yeah, why isn't she wearing the mortal uniform like us?"

"Maybe because she's with Lucien Vale. She can do whatever she wants."

"How lucky."

Lucien's expression remained indifferent as he walked toward the academy gates. Women watched him with hunger in their eyes, their gazes trailing over his form like they could devour him with their stares. Men radiated jealousy so thick it was almost tangible—but even they seemed uncertain about what exactly they envied. His face? His power? The two stunning women at his side?

Lucien was one of those figures who needed no introduction. His long golden hair and eyes, the dignity in his bearing—he commanded attention simply by existing.

Instructors swarmed him immediately.

"Lucien Vale, what an honor! Your talents are legendary!"

"You must join my batch! I have the best curriculum for prodigies like you!"

"No, no, my class is far more suitable. We focus on—"

"Don't listen to them, I've been teaching for forty years, I've never seen anyone—"

Lucien smiled at each of them, his expression warm and accommodating, even as his eyes measured their worth and found them all lacking.

Every instructor surrounded him.

Every instructor except one.

His gaze drifted across the crowd and landed on a woman who stood apart from the rest. She was leaning against a pillar, one leg propped casually behind her, a book held open in one hand. A lollipop protruded from her lips. Her hair was black with a red tint, and she wore a dark long coat over pants. Her bearing radiated dignity, confidence, and a complete lack of interest in the commotion.

She wasn't looking at Lucien at all.

The crowd parted for her as she finally approached. There was an authority in her stride that silenced even the most insistent instructors.

"Instructors," she said, her voice carrying a cold edge that cut through the chaos. "Have some respect for yourselves. Greet the other students as well. Here in Astral Academy, everyone is equal. It doesn't matter if you're a noble or not."

Her dark red eyes—the color of dried blood—met Lucien's gold ones.

Lucien felt something shift in his chest. Fascination. Interest. She was the first person in this world who hadn't fallen over herself to please him, who hadn't looked at him like he was a prize to be claimed or a threat to be eliminated.

She opened her book, still sucking on her lollipop, her gaze already back on the page. "What's your name, disciple?" she asked, not looking up.

"Lucien Vale," he said.

"Which realm are you currently in?"

"Peak Spirit Forge realm."

Her pen faltered—just the briefest pause, so small that only someone watching closely would have noticed. Then she wrote it down, snapped the book shut, and turned away.

He watched her leave, mesmerized by the sway of her hips, the casual confidence in her gait.

She paused at the edge of the crowd and glanced back over her shoulder. "You may be special in the outside world, Lucien," she said, her voice cool as winter wind. "But here, you're just a disciple."

She was gone.

The instructors swarmed again, each one warning him to stay away from her.

"Don't let Nerissa Grim get to you. She's cold as ice."

"That's the Cold Instructor. She has no interest in talent."

"The woman has no heart. Whatever you do, avoid her."

Lucien barely heard them. His golden eyes tracked the spot where she had disappeared, and a small, genuine smile played at his lips.

Nerissa Grim.

Interesting.

In the academy's central courtyard, a magnificent fountain glittered under the morning sun. Above it, a floating board displayed names that shimmered in the air like living things—the top ten disciples of the academy.

"I hope everyone is ready for the Trial of Ancient Guardian," an instructor announced, his voice carrying across the assembled crowd.

"Every new batch must face the Trial of Ancient Guardian. It is not a test of cultivation realm. It judges your potential, courage, and ability to survive."

Lucien watched the gate at the far end of the courtyard. It's beginning.

As soon as all the new disciples entered the academy grounds, the gate closed behind them with a resounding boom that echoed through the courtyard.

"The trial to enter the academy was merely the first step," the instructor continued. "The Ancient Guardian Trial is used to determine what kind of group would be beneficial for you, what allies you'll make, and what kind of instructor would be best suited to your needs. This is a trial that will determine how you live for the rest of your life. The chances are, the allies and enemies you make here will support or haunt you for the rest of your days."

Whispers rippled through the crowd. Disciples exchanged nervous glances. Some clutched their weapons. Others prayed silently to whatever gods they believed in.

Loric and Rhea stood near Lucien, looking pale but determined. Celbeth was practically vibrating with excitement, her hand resting on her katana. Evelyn remained still as stone, her eyes scanning the crowd, cataloging potential threats.

"Disciples," the instructor called out, raising his hand. "Prepare yourselves."

A massive gate materialized at the far end of the courtyard, shimmering with ancient power. Runes spiraled across its surface, pulsing with an energy that made the air itself tremble.

"The Trial of Ancient Guardian begins now!"

Author Note:

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