Baston only opened the old book out of habit.
After all, he had avoided it for a week. Not deliberately and not in rebellion, his mind had simply been hollow after everything that happened in the town.
He had received an excellent result which was new elemental magic. A quiet sense of triumph came up inside his heart.
He thought that was the end of it but it wasn't. The moment the leather cover parted, the truth stared back at him.
A new quest had been issued few days ago.
"Get a good result at the exam…"
His heart dropped. The exam had already ended.
He hadn't even tried and he had skipped classes. He wandered aimlessly and convinced himself nothing urgent required his performance.
Unfortunately, his absence led him into doom.
The book had waited and now, beneath the faded quest text was the evaluation.
It was the worst performance of him.
It was the first time he had ever seen that word.
Perfect had given him a puppet.
Excellent had granted elemental magic.
Good gave consumable items.
And bad offered thin information that might or might not be true.
As for the worst, it gave punishment.
His eyes moved downward slowly, looking at the penalty saying delayed fatal attack.
For a moment, Baston didn't breathe. The description was precise.
He would be given one month before the attack activated automatically. He could initiate it earlier if he wished but he could not avoid it.
When it struck, he would lose consciousness for one week.
After that, his body would be fully healed. A fatal attack that did not kill and a punishment meant to remind him.
Baston rubbed his face slowly.
"So this is what negligence costs…"
The old book did not care about his mood. It did not care that he had been mentally exhausted. It judged performance and not intention.
He scanned the lines again, searching for loopholes but there were none.
The punishment must be accepted. It could not be blocked, redirected, or mitigated through conventional protection.
The wording was clear and he laughed quietly.
"Protection spells… Barriers… Healers… You've already thought about that, haven't you?"
The old book never missed human instinct. It anticipated resistance.
If it declared the strike was unavoidable, then even the strongest defensive magic would fail when the moment came.
Baston leaned back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He had one month for his time.
That meant the attack could happen anytime after thirty days if he did nothing.
Worse, if he triggered it carelessly, it might strike him in public.
If he collapsed in front of others, rumors would spread instantly.
A mysterious attack, a week of unconsciousness, and no visible wound in the end.
He imagined the consequences.
There would be searches, questions, and suspicion.
His room would be investigated, the old book would be discovered, and his puppets would be exposed.
He sat upright again.
"No, I have to choose the timing..."
If the punishment could be initiated earlier, then he would control where and when it happened.
A locked room, a prepared bed, and a healer nearby. He had to provide someone who would confirm he was alive and not dying.
Someone who wouldn't ask too many questions.
Baston's eyes drifted to the corner of his room where the shadows pooled beneath the cabinet.
For a second, he imagined a figure standing there.
The person was quiet, patient, and watching him with the same calm as the old book. It was only the dim light and his nerves yet the thought left a faint chill on his skin.
A punishment that attacked without wound was a perfect tool for fear.
Anyone could look at him afterward and claim anything. It was because of poison, curse, divine judgment, or even insanity.
He sat forward, elbows on his knees and forced his thoughts into order.
"One person," he repeated, "Only one that I can trust but who?"
Panto was loyal in the way anxious people were loyal. He clung to those who made the world feel predictable yet he also talked too much when he panicked.
If Baston collapsed and stayed unconscious for a week, Panto might run to the instructors or other people.
That would invite adults with sharp eyes and dangerous curiosity.
Alicia was safer in a different way. She understood discretion and she understood the cost of noble gossip.
But bringing her into this meant stepping deeper into her world, letting her family taste his secrets.
That could become a chain he couldn't break.
He could hire a healer from outside, one with no ties to the academy but healers asked questions for their own safety.
If they witnessed a strange attack with no source, they would report it to guilds and temples.
Baston exhaled slowly.
The old book wasn't trying to kill him. It was trying to isolate him. It forced him to face a simple truth that he didn't have his own people.
Not truly since he had allies of convenience but friends with limits.
His fingers tightened around the edge of the mattress.
A week of unconsciousness meant seven days without control.
He could not even command his puppets if his mind was gone.
Worse, he didn't know how the old book would judge him during that week.
Would it consider him inactive?
Would it punish him again?
Would it place a quest and watch it fail?
He swallowed, "No. I can't let it happen at a random time."
He needed the punishment to strike at the safest moment possible when no one could connect it to politics, to cult rumors, or to Alicia's household.
The more mysterious his collapse appeared, the more dangerous it became. And that was when he realized something else.
The old book's penalties always sounded clean on paper but in practice, they never were.
"Delayed fatal attack," he murmured, "What does that even feel like?"
A blade of pain?
A strike on the heart?
A curse that locks his mind?
He didn't know and not knowing was the worst part.
Mystery was manageable when it belonged to other people. When it belonged to him, it became a trap.
All in all, it was the real difficulty.
Trust was expensive.
He began making mental notes. He had to choose a quiet place, he had to inform one person only, and he had to create a believable excuse. Then he paused, thinking what would happen in a week.
A full week of unconscious.
It meant vulnerability and anyone could act around him.
Events could unfold without his knowledge.
If a quest triggered during that period, would it fail automatically?
The thought unsettled him more than the punishment itself.
He turned toward his desk where several folded messages lay.
If he was going to disappear for seven days, he needed to understand what currents were moving around him.
Right now, most of the messages were from Panto. It seemed the boy collected rumors obsessively.
Gray-robed visitors seen near merchant districts, strange inquiries about the clown in outer taverns, two apprentices transferred quietly, and a sealed letter delivered to an instructor at night.
None of it proved anything but together, they felt like threads waiting to be pulled.
Then there was Alicia's letter.
The message was short and direct, saying him to come to her house for vacation.
Baston stared at it.
The last time he traveled with Alicia, trouble had appeared almost immediately.
Clark's interference had triggered a quest.
The old book had forced him to perform.
What if her household created another misunderstanding?
What if Clark was there?
What if someone worse than Clark misunderstood his presence entirely?
Noble estates did not operate on simple logic.
Proximity could imply intention, intention could imply alliance, and alliance could imply engagement. He grimaced toward his fate.
"Girls truly are one of my greatest sources of problems..."
Yet, he couldn't deny something else.
Whenever he stepped into complicated environments, the old book reacted. It issued new quests, new evaluations, and new rewards.
If he remained stagnant, he risked another worst. If he moved, at least he would be performing.
And if he was already facing inevitable punishment, perhaps it was better to gather strength before the month ended.
He folded the invitation.
"I'll go…"
*****
The academy changed quickly once the examinations concluded.
Noble students returned home in grand carriages, merchant students went back to assist family businesses, and commoners sought temporary work.
For many, survival came before ambition.
Baston observed it quietly.
He no longer belonged fully to any of those categories. He had money now, enough to avoid immediate hardship.
Panto and Alicia had ensured he lacked nothing basic. Still, the difference between him and Alicia became painfully clear when he stepped into the carriage prepared by her family.
It was larger than his old room.
The carriage was adorned with soft seating, cushioned interior, and a small table full with refreshments.
Even the ride felt smoother as if the wheels refused to touch uneven ground.
More importantly, he was alone.
Alicia had chosen a separate carriage to avoid misunderstandings.
Baston preferred it because silence was easier to manage than noble conversation. As the carriage rolled forward, he allowed himself to focus on something productive toward his new element which was Gale.
It felt sharper than wind.
Not a breeze and not a gust but it was a blade made of air.
He tested it carefully, letting a thin current form between his fingers. It vibrated with restrained sharpness. Wind pushed and gale cut.
With precision, it could slice like a dagger.
With enough control, it could kill without leaving a weapon behind.
He imagined an assassin wielding it.
No steel and no trace. Just a collapsed body and confused witnesses.
It was rare, dangerous, and valuable. Families like Versance and Herbiens guarded their elemental bloodlines fiercely which were ice and flare.
Power passed through carefully arranged marriages and prestige preserved through control.
If they discovered a commoner possessed multiple rare elements, they wouldn't ignore it. Surely, they would claim it.
Baston closed his hand.
"I must not show this…"
Attention had benefits but too much attention invited cages.
The carriage continued for hours. The scenery shifted from academy roads to broader estates and layered gates.
When it finally slowed, a guard's voice sounded outside.
"Young Master Baston, we have arrived..."
But the carriage did not stop immediately.
It passed through an outer gate then another courtyard.
The estate stretched far beyond what Baston expected. Guards lined the path and workers paused and bowed. Not to him but to Alicia. To the house where they devoted their lives.
The scale of authority pressed down like invisible weight.
When the carriage finally stopped near the main building, Baston stepped out and felt very small.
Alicia exited her carriage first.
Servants approached instantly and guards bowed in precise unison while Baston remained slightly behind.
Before he could follow her inside, one of the guards gently raised a hand.
"Please wait here, Young Master Baston. The lord of the house will receive you."
He nodded. As a guest, he must follow their etiquette. He was not equal here since he was a variable.
Baston sat in the designated waiting area and servants offered water for him. He accepted it, observing everything quietly.
No one stared at him openly.
That was more unsettling than hostility. He felt measured in this place.
Inside the estate, Alicia walked toward her father's study. Even as his daughter, she felt the pressure of entering that room.
She knocked the door before a voice came to her.
"Come in..."
Her father stood when he saw her and embraced her briefly.
"Alicia, welcome back. You must be tired but first, I need to verify something."
She nodded, thinking nothing was strange toward such attitude.
He questioned her about Prius Academy, about incidents, and about merit gained while facing the danger.
She answered carefully and he seemed satisfied. Her protection item had functioned. She had not shamed the family and she had navigated events properly. Then, Alicia spoke again.
"Father, I have a request."
His eyes sharpened slightly.
"I invited a friend to stay during the vacation. He is interested in our library. I was hoping he might be allowed access to general materials."
There was a pause before she continued.
"I assure you he seeks only general knowledge."
It was partly true.
She wanted Baston to access information about unusual magic and about patterns that might connect to the cult rumors.
She didn't fully understand the shadows forming around the kingdom but she had seen how Baston thought.
If anyone could notice something others missed, it was him.
Her father leaned back, "I must know his identity first."
Alicia's expression tightened slightly but she nodded, "Of course…"
She understood. Trust was not extended freely in noble houses.
After she left the study, her father remained seated for a moment. Then, he summoned the butler.
"I want a full investigation," he said calmly, "The friend Alicia invited. From his background, his family, and his affiliations."
He did not distrust his daughter but affection did not override caution.
Instead of believing what his daughter told him, it was better to seek the truth by deploying his many resources.
Who knew if this friend had hidden intention or purpose here?