"I want… power… I want power… to protect them."
Then silence. His head dropped forward, his body motionless. The wind stilled—as if the very air leaned in to listen.
"Guess he's finally done," Rhett said, chuckling under his breath. "Good. Saves us the effort."
Natasha flinched; Shaumin's fingers twitched toward his weapon—but before Gauther could take another step, a voice—deep, resonant, wrongly powerful—rolled through the courtyard.
"Stop… right there."
Everyone froze. It came from Shaun's direction. His voice carried a distorted echo—half human, half thunder—each word trembling through the air.
Vince's eyes narrowed. "What was that?"
The voice came again—louder, thrumming with energy that made the air hum.
"Touch them… and you'll pay for it."
A faint spark arced from Shaun's fingertips. The boys holding him stiffened, glancing down as a low hum vibrated through their arms.
"Wh—what the—?" one muttered.
Shaun's head lifted slowly. His eyes, once dull and glassy, now glowed white-hot—crackling with threads of lightning. His hair bristled, rising slightly as if charged by invisible static. The disciples around them gasped.
Lightning veins crawled across his skin—faint but alive. The air itself seemed to bow, pressing against everyone like the weight before a storm.
Gauther took a step back, startled despite himself. "What… what is this?"
For the first time, Gauther's grin faltered—the predator realizing he might have poked a storm instead of prey.
Vince frowned, his amusement fading. "Impossible. He's just a commoner."
The two lackeys holding Shaun tried to tighten their grip—but their hands burned as a sudden shock burst through them.
"GAAH—!" they screamed, electricity surging through their arms before Shaun tore free with a violent jerk. He rose to his feet—slow, unsteady, but radiating something primal. Sparks danced off his skin, hissing against the ground.
Shaun's voice came low, almost unrecognizable. "You shouldn't have touched them."
His hand snapped forward, and in a blink, his palm struck both of their chests—lightning bursting outward like an explosion. The two nobles were thrown back, colliding midair before crashing to the tiles with a deafening crack.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The onlookers who had cheered for Vince a moment ago now fell silent, eyes wide.
Vince's expression twisted. "You—!"
But before he could finish, Shaun was already moving—faster than before, like the storm itself had taken form. Vince swung a fist, but Shaun ducked under it, his own uppercut landing squarely in Vince's ribs. A surge of lightning followed, the sound like thunder trapped in flesh.
Vince staggered back, choking on shock and fury. "You… filthy—!" he spat, rage breaking through the shock.
Shaun didn't stop. He pivoted, slamming his palm against the last follower's gut, sending him sprawling. Sparks flashed, illuminating his face—a mix of rage, pain, and something deeper.
The disciples broke into murmurs—fearful, awed, unsure whether to run or worship what they were seeing. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the lightning flickered out.
A petal drifted past her hand, carried by the same wind that now circled gently around Shaun's still form—like the storm itself bowed before its new master. And far below, the crowd whispered one name—half in shock, half in reverence.
"Shaun… Thunderhawk."
**********
Shaun stood firm despite his battered body—like a new soul had ignited within the shell of a broken one. Natasha was still looking at him with shocked eyes. The same went for Sabastian and Shaumin, who still couldn't comprehend what had just happened.
Like the rest of the crowd, Vince and his friends couldn't comprehend how the tides had turned so suddenly. Gauther was still shaking in fear, clearly unwilling to face the fury of this transformed commoner.
Above them, from the second-floor balcony of the main building, Garland Heatmyer leaned against the railing, his expression a mix of awe and disbelief.
"By the heavens…" he breathed. "I didn't think that kid had it in him."
His dark ponytail swayed in the breeze as he tilted his head toward his companion. "That arrogant Dragonblade got his pride fried. You have to admit, Aiden—what that kid did just now? That wasn't normal."
Beside him, Aiden Flamesaber stood perfectly still, one hand resting against the railing, the other holding an open book. His sharp, unreadable eyes never left the scene below, though his fingers idly turned a page as if marking time.
"Normal?" Aiden said softly. "No. It wasn't."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "That power... it wasn't just lightning. Something else woke up down there."
Garland straightened, suddenly uneasy. "You mean...?"
Aiden turned his gaze skyward, where clouds were beginning to form—slowly, silently—around the academy's spires.
"I mean," Aiden murmured, "whatever that boy just awakened... it wasn't ordinary."
Garland grinned, clearly impressed. "You see? That boy's got something special—something burning inside him besides courage. Not everyone can stand up to Vince Dragonblade and win."
He jabbed a thumb toward Vince, who was still being helped up by his humiliated lackeys, sparks of anger practically steaming off his head.
"Look at that arrogant bastard. If this were an official duel, I'd bet every last credit I have on that new kid."
Aiden exhaled faintly through his nose, not quite a sigh. "It's too early to declare a winner, Garland."
Garland blinked. "What? You kidding me? Vince can barely stand!"
Aiden finally looked up from the book, closing it halfway between his fingers as his calm eyes met his friend's confusion.
"That boy down there," he said, nodding toward Shaun, "has potential. But potential alone doesn't decide the future."
Garland frowned. "You mean the fight's not over?"
"The storm might be," Aiden said, "but the aftermath never ends so quickly."
Garland studied him for a moment, then chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Man, you always talk like an old sage trapped in a teenager's body."
Aiden didn't respond, his gaze flicking once more to Shaun's unconscious figure. For just a heartbeat, something unreadable flickered in his eyes—curiosity, maybe even recognition.
Garland leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You know what? Let's make this interesting. If that Commoner kid recovers and walks out of there without getting punished, you owe me a rotisserie chicken. But if he doesn't..." He smirked. "Dinner's on me."
Aiden didn't answer. He simply reopened his book, eyes drifting down to the faint reflection of the fading sparks on its cover.
Garland frowned. "Hey, did you even hear me?"
Aiden's silence stretched. Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance. For a heartbeat, even the heavens held still—as if waiting to see what would come next.
Shaun's eyes dimmed. His knees gave way. The storm inside him dissipated like smoke. He collapsed, the tiles echoing beneath him.
"Shaun!" Natasha's scream pierced the stunned silence. She rushed forward, catching his head before it hit the ground, her hands trembling as arcs of fading static danced across his skin. "Please—wake up!"
Sabastian knelt beside her, checking his pulse. "He's alive," he said quickly. "Just… completely drained."
Shaumin exhaled shakily, wiping sweat from his brow. "Figures. He pulls off a miracle and then scares us half to death."
Natasha brushed the hair from Shaun's face, tears stinging her eyes. "You idiot," she whispered. "You really think you can just fall asleep after that?"
Above them, from the academy's upper floor, Princess Nina Heavenstar stood frozen by the railing, her hands trembling against the cold metal.
Her eyes glistened with tears as she stared down at Shaun—guilt and awe twisting in her chest.
Because of me, she thought bitterly. He suffered because of me.
The courtyard was finally quiet. Where moments ago lightning had roared and dust had swirled, now there was only silence—and the faint crackle of fading sparks. Disciples gathered in uneasy clusters, whispering to one another, too stunned to leave.
At the center of it all lay Shaun Thunderhawk, unconscious, his friends kneeling beside him. Natasha's voice trembled as she called his name, while Shaumin and Sabastian tried to rouse him, desperate for any sign of movement.
**********
The storm had barely settled. Shaun lay on the ground, his breathing faint, while his friends hovered over him in panic—Natasha clutching his hand, Shaumin checking his pulse, and Sabastian muttering prayers under his breath.
No one dared speak. Even the air seemed to tremble, waiting for the prince's next breath. The courtyard, moments ago filled with cheers, was now silent again… except for the sharp sound of teeth grinding.
From the other side of the field, Vince Dragonblade rose slowly to his feet. Dust streaked his fine uniform, blood traced his lip, and his pride—his royal, untouchable pride—was shattered. His trembling hand brushed the side of his bruised jaw.
"This… this can't be happening."
The words escaped him like venom.
"How could a commoner—a filthy, powerless commoner—dare to lay a hand on me?"
He staggered a step forward, eyes blazing, the humiliation twisting into fury. "You dare humiliate a Dragonblade before the entire Academy?" His voice rose, thunderous and raw. "You'll regret this—every last one of you!"
Shaumin looked up from Shaun, meeting Vince's burning gaze. "You've lost, Vince. Just stop."
"Lost?" Vince's laugh cracked like lightning. "No, Skyline. I've only just begun."
He spread his arms wide, the faint shimmer of mana beginning to pulse across his skin. The air warped around him, shimmering blue and violent.
"By royal blood and heavenly flame," he chanted through clenched teeth, "heed my call—Dragon's Wrath!"
His aura erupted. A royal-blue radiance poured from his body like liquid fire, coiling upward in spirals of light. The wind howled through the courtyard, scattering loose petals and dust into the air.
Overhead, the skies darkened. Clouds gathered unnaturally fast, churning and low, until thunder rolled across the spires of Silver Heaven Academy. Disciples screamed and backed away from the courtyard's edge.
"Shaumin…" Natasha whispered, her voice trembling. "He's going to—"
"I know," Shaumin said, stepping forward. The wind around him thickened, swirling at his feet. "Stay behind me."
Sabastian clenched his fists, water forming faint ripples across the ground where he stood. "He's charging up something big. We can't dodge this."
The sphere between Vince's palms grew brighter—blue light burning to white at the core. The ground itself quivered beneath the pressure, mana humming in the air like a living storm.
"Look at him," Vince spat, pointing toward Shaun's limp form. "That worthless peasant lies in the dirt where he belongs. And when I'm done, none of you will dare stand beside him again."
"Don't you touch him!" Natasha shouted, lightning flaring around her arms.
But Vince only smiled—a cruel, regal curve of the lips. "You think you can protect him? Then die trying."
The light in his palms swelled, expanding into a blazing lotus of energy. Shaumin, Sabastian, and Natasha moved as one, forming a wall before Shaun—wind, water, and lightning rising to meet the prince's fury.
The courtyard was no longer silent. It pulsed with two storms—one of rage, one of resolve—crashing toward each other in the heart of Silver Heaven Academy.
**********