The County of Velkros rested beneath endless stretches of green.
Unlike the towering authority of the main Velkros Dukedom far to the north, the branch county lands carried a calmer atmosphere. Vast hills rolled beneath clear skies while rivers cut silver paths through forests and farmland alike. Noble estates stood between mountain slopes and open valleys, their banners moving steadily beneath the wind.
It was peaceful in a way the academy never truly was.
No crowded training halls.
No constant evaluations.
No suffocating pressure hanging behind every conversation.
Only the quiet rhythm of noble territory continuing its life beneath the summer sky.
Dorian Velkros stood alone in the estate's western training grounds with one hand extended forward.
Wind gathered around his arm.
Leaves trembled.
Dust rose lightly from the stone floor beneath his boots.
Then—
A sharp compressed blade of wind shot forward across the field.
The attack sliced through three suspended targets before losing shape entirely and scattering into unstable currents.
Dorian frowned slightly.
Again.
The training field around him already carried traces of repeated practice. Wooden poles had been cut apart in uneven lines while dozens of marked targets stood damaged across the open area.
Sweat rolled lightly down the side of his face.
The afternoon wind shifted through his black hair as he raised his hand once more.
Mana gathered again.
Not wildly.
Carefully.
Wind magic was not meant to be forced through brute strength alone. Precision mattered just as much as power. Control shaped speed. Stability shaped sharpness. A poorly controlled wind blade dispersed before impact no matter how much mana fed into it.
Dorian inhaled slowly.
Then released another compressed current.
This one lasted longer.
The blade tore through the first target.
Then the second.
Then destabilized again before reaching the third.
Dorian clicked his tongue quietly.
Still not enough.
He lowered his hand slightly and looked across the damaged field.
Vacation had only recently begun, yet most of the county's younger nobles were already spending their days relaxing, traveling, or enjoying the freedom that came after the academy term.
Dorian understood the appeal.
But every time he tried resting completely, his thoughts returned toward the academy.
Toward the dungeon.
Toward the students there.
Especially toward the people who stood far above ordinary talent.
Aethermoor Academy gathered monsters.
Not literal monsters.
Worse.
Young nobles and mages capable of becoming future disasters if allowed enough time to grow.
Before entering the academy, Dorian had believed himself talented.
And he was.
Within ordinary standards, his wind magic placed him far above most students his age. Even among noble heirs, he ranked well enough to earn praise from instructors and household knights alike.
Then he entered Aethermoor.
Then he met people like Caelum.
Like Isolde.
Like Aldric.
And most of all—
Zynar.
Dorian exhaled slowly.
The dungeon practical still lingered heavily in his memory.
Not the fear.
Not even the assassins.
The atmosphere.
The feeling that some people inside the academy existed on an entirely different scale than everyone else around them.
He lifted his hand again.
Wind gathered more violently this time.
The currents compressed tightly enough to distort the air around his fingers before launching forward.
BOOM.
The target exploded apart completely.
The remaining current tore across the far wall of the training field and carved a deep line through solid stone before finally dispersing.
Dorian stared at the result silently.
Better.
But still unstable.
"You are pushing too hard."
The voice came from behind him.
Dorian glanced back.
His father stood near the edge of the field now.
Count Velkros of the branch county carried the calm authority expected from a noble who governed an entire territory. Unlike the polished elegance common among court nobles, the count looked more practical. Strong shoulders. Dark formal clothing. A gaze sharpened through years of responsibility rather than battlefield experience alone.
Several knights stood farther behind him, though none approached closer.
Dorian straightened slightly.
"Father."
The count looked across the damaged training ground.
"You've been here since morning."
Dorian wiped some sweat from his forehead.
"I needed practice."
"You needed rest."
Dorian remained silent for a second.
Then quietly said,
"If I stop improving now, others won't."
His father studied him for a moment.
Not critically.
Just thoughtfully.
"The academy changed you."
Dorian gave a small shrug.
"Maybe."
"No," his father said calmly. "Definitely."
The count slowly walked farther into the field while looking across the destroyed targets.
"When you first entered Aethermoor, you trained because you wanted recognition."
Dorian said nothing.
His father continued.
"Now you train because you understand how large the world actually is."
The statement settled quietly between them.
Dorian could not deny it.
At the academy, talent alone stopped feeling special very quickly.
There was always someone stronger.
Someone smarter.
Someone more terrifying.
His father eventually looked toward the deep slash across the far wall.
"Your compression control improved."
"A little."
"But your mana stability collapsed after the second impact."
Dorian sighed quietly.
"I know."
The count folded his arms.
"You are trying to force advanced shaping too quickly."
"I almost stabilized it."
"Almost is the unstable part that kills people."
That earned the faintest smile from Dorian.
Only faint.
His father noticed it anyway.
"Enough training for today."
"I can continue a little longer."
"You can," the count agreed. "But you won't."
Dorian looked mildly resigned already.
His father turned toward the estate.
"Your mother specifically requested that everyone attend dinner together tonight."
That sentence carried more danger than any magical threat.
Dorian immediately lowered his hand.
"...Right."
The count almost looked amused.
Almost.
Together they began walking back toward the estate grounds.
The western training fields stretched behind them beneath the fading afternoon light while distant winds rolled through the valleys below the county lands.
For the first time since returning home, Dorian realized something quietly.
The academy pressure had followed everyone into vacation.
Not openly.
Not painfully.
But enough that even training under peaceful skies no longer felt entirely simple.
The Velkros branch estate became livelier near evening.
Servants moved steadily through the halls preparing the dining chambers while warm light spread through the long corridors of polished stone and dark wood. Unlike the main Velkros dukedom—which Dorian had visited only a handful of times during official gatherings—the branch county estate carried a more personal atmosphere.
Still noble.
Still powerful.
But lived in.
The sound of younger children running through one hallway briefly echoed before being stopped by an exhausted servant trying to restore order.
Dorian already knew who it was before seeing them.
The twins.
As expected, one of them nearly collided with him moments later while turning around the corner at full speed.
"Big brother!"
Dorian barely managed to catch the six-year-old boy before he crashed directly into him.
The second twin appeared right behind him.
Both children shared the characteristic black hair and jade-green eyes common throughout the Velkros bloodline, though at their age the intimidating noble appearance mostly disappeared beneath endless energy and complete disregard for dignity.
"You almost died," Dorian said flatly.
"No I didn't."
"You ran directly into a wall."
"The wall moved."
Dorian stared at him for a second.
"...The wall was me."
The child looked thoughtful.
Then immediately pointed toward the dining hall.
"Mother said everyone's already waiting."
Of course they were.
Dorian sighed quietly before guiding both children forward.
The main dining chamber glowed warmly beneath crystal lights suspended overhead.
Large windows overlooked the darkening valley outside while servants quietly finished preparing the evening meal across the long table.
His mother already sat near the center.
Elegant and composed as always, Lady Velkros carried the graceful atmosphere common among high noblewomen, though her expression softened slightly the moment she saw the younger twins entering.
Selene sat nearby.
Unlike her composed behavior at the academy, she looked far more relaxed at home. Her black hair rested neatly over her shoulders while her jade-green eyes followed the twins with visible familiarity.
She noticed Dorian entering and gave a small nod.
Dorian returned it before taking his seat.
His father sat shortly afterward.
The entire family was present now.
For a brief moment, the atmosphere settled into something unusually peaceful.
Then the twins immediately destroyed it.
"Mother, he called me suicidal."
"I did not."
"You implied it."
"You ran into a wall."
"The wall moved."
Selene quietly lowered her head into one hand.
Lady Velkros closed her eyes briefly as though reconsidering several life choices.
Count Velkros calmly began drinking tea like this happened every evening.
Which it probably did.
The meal eventually began properly.
Servants moved quietly around the table while conversation gradually replaced the earlier chaos.
Most of it remained ordinary.
County administration.
Trade reports.
Upcoming seasonal festivals.
Travel arrangements during vacation.
For the first time in months, Dorian found himself relaxing slightly.
Not completely.
But enough.
Then his mother glanced toward him.
"How were the examinations?"
There it was.
Dorian leaned back slightly.
"Fine."
Selene immediately looked unimpressed.
"That means difficult."
Dorian glanced at her.
"You weren't there."
"No," Selene replied calmly. "But I've known you long enough."
The twins listened with fascination despite clearly understanding almost none of the actual conversation.
Count Velkros looked toward his son.
"And the academy itself?"
Dorian hesitated slightly.
How exactly was he supposed to summarize Aethermoor?
Pressure?
Competition?
Madness disguised as education?
"...Intense," he finally answered.
His father nodded once as though expecting that answer.
"The academy should feel intense."
Dorian looked down briefly at his plate.
"It isn't only the academy."
Selene's gaze shifted slightly toward him.
Not suspicious.
Curious.
Dorian noticed it.
So he simply continued eating.
The dungeon incident remained confidential enough that openly discussing details at the family table felt unnecessary. Official reports already existed for the noble houses involved.
Still, some memories refused to fully leave people's minds.
Even during peaceful dinners.
One of the twins suddenly asked,
"Big brother, are academy students really super strong?"
Dorian looked at him for a second.
"...Some are."
"Are you?"
The question was asked with complete sincerity.
Dorian almost smiled slightly.
"Not enough."
Selene noticed that answer carefully.
Their mother did too.
But neither interrupted.
The dinner continued afterward in calmer conversation.
Selene occasionally spoke about books she had been reading recently while the twins repeatedly tried—and failed—to eat properly without creating minor disasters.
At one point one of them accidentally launched a spoon across the table using too much force.
Count Velkros caught it midair without even looking up from his meal.
Nobody reacted.
Which suggested this was also normal.
For the first time since returning from the academy, Dorian felt the constant pressure inside his thoughts loosen slightly.
Just slightly.
Enough to breathe easier.
Much later that night, Dorian stood alone outside the estate balcony overlooking the lower valleys.
The wind was stronger here.
Cool mountain air moved steadily through the darkness while distant lights flickered faintly across the county roads below.
The estate behind him had mostly quieted.
The twins were finally asleep.
Servants moved more quietly now.
The peaceful atmosphere of the county settled naturally beneath the night sky.
Dorian rested both arms lightly against the stone railing.
Then slowly extended one hand forward.
Wind gathered again.
Not violently this time.
Softly.
The currents moved around his fingers in controlled spirals before dispersing into the night air.
His control had improved since entering Aethermoor.
His power too.
But the academy had also shown him how far he still needed to go.
People like Aldric existed.
People like Isolde existed.
And somewhere within the capital itself, during this same vacation—
Zynar was probably moving through some entirely different path none of them understood yet.
Dorian looked toward the distant horizon.
Then quietly spoke into the night air.
"...I need to become stronger."
Not out of fear.
Not jealousy.
Simply because now he understood what kind of world he had stepped into.
Far from the green valleys of Velkros County, the Vayne territory carried an entirely different atmosphere.
Where Velkros lands felt open and alive beneath the wind, Vayne lands felt quiet.
Ancient.
The forests surrounding the Vayne estate stretched dark and dense beneath silver moonlight while towering mage structures rose from the landscape like monuments left behind by another era.
The Vayne family had always been known for magic.
Not ordinary noble magic.
Research.
Theory.
Ancient magical development.
Their territory reflected that identity perfectly.
Runic lights glowed faintly along stone pathways while magical barriers shimmered invisibly around certain sections of the estate grounds. Even the air itself carried traces of concentrated mana from generations of magical experimentation.
Inside one of the upper research chambers, Isolde Vayne sat alone at a large desk covered in open books and scattered papers.
Several magical lamps floated nearby, illuminating the room in soft blue light.
Vacation had begun.
For most academy students, that meant freedom.
For Isolde, it meant unrestricted study time.
Which was arguably more dangerous.
One open book beside her contained ancient mana circulation diagrams.
Another described irregular magical mutations.
A third discussed internalized energy structures found within certain magical creatures.
Isolde carefully adjusted her glasses slightly before continuing to read.
Unlike Dorian, she did not feel the need to train physically during vacation.
Her interests moved elsewhere.
Theory fascinated her more than sword drills ever could.
Especially after the dungeon.
Especially after witnessing things that did not entirely fit normal magical understanding.
She turned another page slowly.
Then paused.
Her eyes settled on one specific line within the damaged text.
"...certain entities reject atmospheric mana intake entirely, instead utilizing internally stabilized energy systems independent from environmental circulation..."
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Isolde leaned slightly closer.
The remaining portions of the document had partially deteriorated with age, but several references still remained readable.
Alternative energy structures.
Internalized power systems.
Unstable magical mutations.
She quietly tapped one finger against the edge of the page.
Modern magic relied heavily on atmospheric mana absorption. Every mage learned that principle early. Mana existed naturally throughout the environment. Mages circulated and shaped it according to their attributes and control abilities.
Anything functioning outside that structure immediately became unusual.
Her attention lingered thoughtfully on the text.
Then suddenly—
A small knock came from the chamber door.
Without waiting for permission, a younger girl entered carrying a tray with tea.
"Still studying?"
Isolde glanced up.
Her younger cousin looked entirely unsurprised by the scene before her.
Which made sense.
This happened often.
"I was reading," Isolde replied calmly.
"Reading five books at once again?"
"Efficiency."
Her cousin snorted softly before setting the tea down nearby.
"Aunt said if you skip sleep again, she's confiscating your research notes."
"That would be unreasonable."
"She seemed very reasonable about it."
Isolde sighed quietly.
Family members who did not appreciate uninterrupted research time were deeply unfortunate.
Her cousin looked across the scattered books.
"What are you researching this time?"
"Mana irregularities."
"That sounds boring."
"It isn't."
"You're the only person alive who believes that."
Possibly true.
The younger girl eventually sat nearby while stealing one of the snacks from the tray.
"You know," she said casually, "most people spend vacation relaxing."
"I am relaxed."
"You've been reading magical theory for six straight hours."
Isolde looked genuinely confused.
"Yes."
Her cousin stared at her.
Then burst into laughter.
Isolde simply returned to her books.
Some people lacked appreciation for proper priorities.
Later that night, the research chamber had grown quieter.
The floating magical lamps dimmed slightly while the estate outside settled deeper into silence.
Isolde remained seated near the desk with several open documents surrounding her.
One hand rested lightly against a mana formation she had drawn earlier across parchment.
Thin streams of mana moved carefully through the structure.
Controlled.
Measured.
Then the formation destabilized slightly.
Isolde immediately corrected it.
Her gaze remained thoughtful.
Not frustrated.
Curious.
The memory returned again.
The dungeon.
The pressure.
Those eyes.
Not fear.
She had never viewed it as fear exactly.
More like standing too close to something fundamentally different.
Isolde slowly dispersed the mana formation.
Then quietly looked toward the darkened window nearby.
"...What exactly are you?"
The question disappeared into the silent chamber.
No answer came.
Only the soft glow of magical lamps illuminating ancient research texts beneath the quiet Vayne estate night.
And far away from noble territories, libraries, and peaceful family halls—
another student continued walking a very different road through the capital itself.
[End of Chapter 41]