Episode-217

Words : 1536 Updated : Sep 29th, 2025

Chapter : 433 The guilt, which had been a sharp pang moments before, now returned as a crushing, suffocating weight. He saw it all, with a sudden, horrifying clarity. The Family Summit. Her unexpected, humiliating defeat at the hands of Rayan. The whispers, the loss of her undisputed title as the strongest of the Ferrum youth. And then, his own impossible, meteoric rise. His victory. His father’s praise. The King’s favor. The AURA phenomenon. He had, without ever intending to, stolen her spotlight, eclipsed her accomplishments, added the insult of his own success to the injury of her defeat. This tournament... it wasn’t just a quest for glory. He knew his sister. He knew her fierce, unyielding Ferrum pride. This was an act of reclamation. An attempt to wash away the stain of her defeat, to prove to the world, to their father, and most of all, to herself, that she was still a warrior. That she was still worthy of the Ferrum name. It was a desperate, dangerous, and incredibly lonely, pursuit of her own lost honor. And it was, he realized with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, entirely his fault. He had been so focused on his own survival, on his own rise, that he had never once stopped to consider the collateral damage. He had never considered the shadow his own sudden, brilliant light was casting on the one person who had lived her entire life trying to compensate for his darkness. He stood there, in the quiet, sun-dappled courtyard of the Crimson Maple dormitory, the proctor and Master Elmsworth watching him with concerned, confused expressions. But he didn't see them. He saw only his sister, alone, in a distant, dangerous province, fighting a battle that was not just for a trophy, but for her very sense of self. A battle he himself had, in his own selfish, ignorant way, forced her to fight. "The Azure Shield Tournament?" Lloyd repeated, his voice dangerously quiet, the earlier guilt solidifying into a cold, hard knot of self-recrimination. He looked at the dorm master, his eyes sharp, demanding. "On what grounds was her leave of absence approved? She is a student. A minor. Such a competition is... unsuitable." The dorm master, a stern woman named Matron Elara, met his gaze without flinching. Her expression softened with a flicker of what looked like weary sympathy. "Lord Ferrum, your sister is not just any student. She is Lady Jothi. Her skill and her will are... formidable." She sighed, a rare crack in her professional armor. "She petitioned the Headmaster directly. She framed it as an opportunity for 'practical application of combat theory against diverse, non-academic opponents'. A ridiculous justification, of course, but technically within the Academy's charter for advanced students pursuing independent study." "The Headmaster approved this?" Lloyd asked, incredulous. "The Headmaster," Matron Elara replied, her tone dry, "has a great deal of respect for your sister's determination. And, if I may be so bold, he is not a man who enjoys arguing with her. When Lady Jothi sets her mind to something, it is often simpler to grant permission and pray for the best than to attempt to dissuade her. She can be... remarkably persuasive." Persuasive. Stubborn. Proud to a fault. Yes, that was Jothi. That was the Ferrum blood in her, untempered by the weary cynicism of an extra eighty years of life. Lloyd turned to Master Elmsworth, who was looking deeply troubled. The old tutor, a man of books and ledgers, clearly viewed the idea of one of his brightest students voluntarily entering a glorified brawl as a catastrophic failure of risk management. "Did you know about this, Master Elmsworth?" Elmsworth shook his head, wringing his hands. "No, Professor, I did not! It is... most irregular! The academic council was not consulted. This was a private matter between Lady Jothi and the Headmaster. Had I known, I would have strongly advised against it! The potential for injury... the disruption to her studies... it is highly illogical!" Of course it was illogical. This wasn't a decision born of logic. It was born of pride. Wounded pride. His gaze drifted away, back towards the sun-drenched quadrangle, but he wasn't seeing the peaceful academic scene. He was seeing the sparring circle at the Ferrum Summit. He saw Jothi’s face, pale with shock and exhaustion, after her defeat. He remembered the triumphant, sneering look on Rayan’s face, a look that had felt like a personal insult even then. Chapter : 434 Rayan's victory hadn't been one of superior skill. Lloyd had seen it clearly. Jothi had been tired, her reserves depleted from a semester of pushing herself to the limit at the Academy, trying to uphold the family honor he had so carelessly discarded. Rayan, arrogant and brutish, had simply outlasted her, winning through brute stamina rather than tactical brilliance. But a loss was a loss. And for someone with Jothi's fierce pride, a public loss to a cousin she despised, in front of the entire clan, was a humiliation that would fester, a stain that she would feel compelled to wash away with a victory so undeniable, so overwhelming, that no one could ever question her strength again. The Azure Shield Tournament. It was the perfect stage for such a statement. Winning there, against hardened professionals, would be a far greater accomplishment than besting her own cousins in a 'friendly' family contest. It would be her declaration to the world: I am not defined by a single loss. I am a warrior. And I did this to her, Lloyd thought, the guilt a cold, sharp blade twisting in his gut. My sudden rise, my unexpected victory, my father’s praise... it all served to magnify her single failure. I cast a shadow, and she felt she had to run into the brightest, most dangerous light she could find just to prove she wasn't consumed by it. He felt a sudden, fierce, and entirely unfamiliar surge of protective, brotherly anger. An anger directed not at Jothi for her recklessness, but at the world, at their father, at himself, for putting her in a position where she felt this was her only recourse. He had been so focused on his own path, his own secrets, that he had been blind to the pressure building on his own sister. His first instinct was to act. To saddle a horse, to ride south to Aeridor himself. To find her, to drag her out of that barbaric tournament, to tell her she had nothing to prove. But what would he say? ‘Don’t worry, little sister, I know you feel like a failure because I’m secretly a reincarnated super-genius with a cosmic shopping list for powers?’ Yeah, that would go over well. She wouldn't see it as protection; she would see it as him, her disappointing older brother, once again interfering, once again robbing her of her own agency, her own chance to forge her own legend. She would hate him for it. And she would be right. No. He couldn't follow her. This was her path, her battle. A battle she had chosen, however misguided the reasons. He had to respect that. But that didn't mean he had to like it. And it didn't mean he couldn't prepare for the aftermath. “Ken,” he murmured, his voice so low that Master Elmsworth, standing right beside him, didn't even hear it. From the deep shadows of the colonnade across the courtyard, a presence acknowledged the silent summons. Not with a word, but with a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in the ambient energy, a whisper of awareness that only Lloyd could feel. Young Lord? Ken’s thought was a silent echo in his mind. Jothi, Lloyd sent back, his own thoughts sharp, precise, a commander issuing orders. The Azure Shield Tournament. Province of Aeridor. I want eyes on her. Constant, unseen surveillance. Use your network. Find a reliable asset on the ground, someone local. I want daily reports. Her opponents, her condition, the political climate of the tournament. I want to know everything. And if her life is in genuine, undeniable peril... intervene. Subtly. An opponent’s sudden illness. A sponsor’s change of heart. An ‘unfortunate’ logistical error. Make it look like chance. But keep her alive. At all costs. There was a beat of silence, then the cool, unwavering reply. The asset will be found. The objective will be secured. Your sister will be protected, Young Lord. A fraction of the weight lifted from Lloyd’s shoulders. Ken’s network was vast, his resources formidable. Jothi would not be entirely alone. It was the best he could do, for now. He turned his attention back to the present, to the waiting, concerned faces of Matron Elara and Master Elmsworth. He forced his features into a mask of calm, brotherly concern. “Thank you for the information, Matron,” he said, his voice steady. “My sister is... fiercely independent. I trust her judgment.” The lie tasted like ash, but it was a necessary one. “Master Elmsworth, I believe the Headmaster is still expecting us. We should not keep him waiting any longer.”

Episode-217

Comments (0)