Chapter Eighteen

Absolute Fake Truth

After half an hour of sitting in silence, a young girl of breathtaking beauty appeared before Sero. He had no trouble recognizing her as Lysa. It was hard to mistake her delicate features, those wide eyes that seemed to hold secrets within them. Her long black hair swayed with every step as if moving to invisible melodies. It wasn’t just her beauty that set her apart, but an aura of mystery that made everyone who saw her feel awe and respect, a fact Sero confirmed in his heart.

Lysa stopped in front of him for a moment and opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. Her silence was filled with messages; perhaps she hesitated, or maybe she knew that words wouldn’t help in this situation.

Instead, she sighed quietly as if bearing a heavy burden on her shoulders, a burden that she had stolen someone else's effort. Then she continued her way past Sero, who leaned against the wall with clear indifference.

Her steps were graceful and steady as if she was sure of every step she took toward her goal of acquiring the blood dagger shard.

Once she entered the hall, Sero’s heart finally relaxed. He knew she carried the key to the new phase he had entered and that she was an essential part of his plan. As soon as she was out of sight, he breathed a sigh of relief and moved with measured steps toward the hall.

But suddenly, a running sound from behind interrupted his thoughts. The sound came fast and with heavy breathing, causing Sero to turn his head slowly and with boredom, a sarcastic smile spreading across his face.

That smile conveyed everything—indifference, overconfidence, and perhaps a bit of scorn.

“Did you expect me to forget about you?” Sero said coldly. “You’re not getting the shard today, coward.”

Before him stood Drada, his eyes blazing with anger and hatred, his breaths rapid as if he had run a long distance to reach Sero.

He was unaware of the secret alliance between Sero and Lysa, thinking he had arrived at the perfect moment to catch Sero off guard.

For him, it was like a mission to salvage his honor, a last chance to outshine his rival.

“Stop with the empty talk. You know very well why I’m here, and you know how this will end,” Drada said, his voice heavy with fury as he assumed a fighting stance, his eyes fixed on Sero as if trying to penetrate the walls of his soul.

In a swift motion, Drada launched a palm strike at Sero. The attack was fast and sharp, but Sero was faster. He wasn’t facing an ordinary person, but an immortal with a thousand years of skill, and dodging the attack was like moving with the breeze. There was no effort required in this confrontation; to Sero, Drada was merely a tired, troublesome child.

Sero smirked mockingly, a smile meant to insult his opponent mentally before physically. But that smile quickly vanished when Drada forcefully kicked the ground, changing the direction of his strike toward Sero’s abdomen.

The change was so sudden that the sound of Drada’s hand hitting Sero’s ribs echoed through the hallway.

Sero hadn’t expected the blow, but he wasn’t weak enough to be discouraged. Slowly, his expression shifted from indifference to intense focus, and he said with a challenging tone, “Alright, it’s my turn now.”

In an instant, Sero launched a barrage of rapid strikes at Drada. The attacks were swift and calculated, each blow aimed precisely. Drada struggled hard to block the blows, but Sero’s strikes were relentless, like a waterfall of punches. Each hit came down like lightning, yet Drada managed to deflect some with agility.

Drada took a few steps back, trying to regain his balance, then aimed a roundhouse kick at Sero.

“Showing your back to your opponent is the worst choice you can make!” Sero laughed heartily as he targeted Drada’s right side, specifically below the ribs, aiming for the liver.

A cry of pain filled the space. “Ugh!” Drada groaned violently, but he couldn’t even respond before receiving another volley of rapid strikes. Each blow was more severe than the last, as if Sero took pleasure in torturing his opponent.

“You’re a cheating, despicable coward!” Drada shouted in agony as he fell to the ground after desperate attempts to defend himself. “You were clearly targeting my weak points!”

But Sero showed no mercy. He looked at Drada with a chilling coldness that made the latter feel as though all his pride had evaporated.

“The Hervault family must be disgusted to have such a burden as you with them,” Sero said with a tone full of disappointment as if he now saw Drada as nothing but another failure. He spoke as if confronting his former self, the person he was before becoming what he was now.

Sero thought deeply about the Geist clan and the Hervolt family. He had considered the large family a foe not to be trifled with, especially after witnessing the old man Jokai’s ruthlessness. But now, the descendant of the clan leader had fallen disgracefully.

Internal conflicts began to surface in Drada, his thoughts racing, and his anger growing. He felt inferior to his twin brother, who had always outperformed him.

That look! That damned look of contempt, the same looks my siblings give me!” Drada thought, his anger rising like a blazing fire in his heart. That look was like a sword piercing his depths, always reminding him that despite all his achievements, he was still seen by others as less than he deserved.

How could the world be fair when a person is always judged by what they lack, not by what they achieve? These thoughts consumed Drada’s heart, making him feel suffocated as if he were swallowing hot sand.

His sense of inadequacy compared to his twin brother, Dread, weighed on him like a mountain of iron.

Every time he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he saw his brother’s face instead of his own, seeing him in every movement and action. As if fate mocked him, putting before him everything he lacked and everything he could never have.

Drada struggled to rid himself of that image, to prove to himself first, then to his family and the world, that he was different, that he was stronger than his brother.

And so, when given the chance to face Sero, he thought it would be his awaited moment, the moment that would change everything.

But fate had a different opinion, as if bitterly mocking him. If only Drada had known that the person before him wasn’t just an orphaned boy but an immortal being, he would have knelt until his forehead cracked.

Yet, like many others, he couldn’t see beyond the surface. Who would be crazy enough to consider an orphaned child an immortal? It was fate’s cruel joke that no one found amusing except Sero, who knew exactly who he was and what he was capable of.

But even so, Drada possessed a talent that surpassed Sero’s. In the Hervolt family, the elders always said that Drada could have become something great if it weren’t for his twin. Talent alone wasn’t enough; the choices one makes play a larger role in shaping fate. If it were a battle of magic alone, perhaps things would be different.

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Yet Sero was still not satisfied. Life seemed to have presented him with a golden opportunity, and he wasn’t about to let it slip away. He knew this moment could be the push he needed to change his course, and he wasn’t prepared to withdraw without gaining something from it.

“Do you want to run away again? I’ll beat you every time you come here. Go back to your brother and tell him that a mage with the talent of a single candle has humiliated you. Maybe he’ll help you with his new shard,” Sero said with scorn, each word like salt on the open wounds of Drada’s heart.

The sense of inadequacy that hung over his soul turned into burning anger that ignited his depths.

“You filthy orphan—” Drada tried to rise, but Sero didn’t give him the chance. He kicked his face brutally, and each time Drada tried to stand, he was struck down as if he were a defeated dog.

“How! How can someone like me lose a fight to a filthy orphan! How will my brothers look at me now!” Thoughts raced in his mind like an unending storm. Each thought hit him with more force than Sero’s previous blows.

He knew that this defeat wouldn’t be just a simple loss; it would be a disgrace that would haunt him forever.

In the past day's dire situation, he had fled from Sero, humiliating himself and his family in the process. Although the events at the academy were concealed from the rest of the clan, students and professors knew everything that had happened.

There were no secrets at the academy; everything spread like wildfire, with the flames only delayed until the academic year ended.

Dread, his twin brother, hadn’t spoken to him since the incident. His gaze was devoid of any expression, as if he was looking at a stranger, someone unworthy of his attention. As for the old Jokai, she avoided Drada with a disgusted face, as if seeing Drada as an irreparable flaw. Disappointment overshadowed everyone’s faces, leaving Drada feeling trapped in a cage of shame.

If Drada’s family had been an ordinary one, his mistakes might have been forgotten over time due to his talent. But they weren’t. They were from a prestigious family, a pillar of the clan. With a twin brother who excelled in everything, the flames of envy burned in Drada’s heart relentlessly. He knew he had only two options: either use his jealousy to stand out and prove himself or die a pitiful death.

With a hand blazing with sparks, Drada rose in anger. His hand trembled, not from fear, but from the fury that consumed him. But Sero, instead of showing any fear, looked at him with a devilish smile. That smile held everything—mockery, disdain, and a sense of control.

In that moment, Drada realized that things had slipped out of his control. But he wasn’t ready to back down. He used the small flame shard, symbolizing his power and authority. He knew that using the shard in this context would bring him trouble, but his anger outweighed his wisdom.

He released the sparks from his hand and struck Sero’s abdomen with force. The blow was so powerful that it burned through his robe, reaching his belly and forcing Sero to spit blood. The strike was enough to hurl Sero forcefully into the hallway, crashing him against the wall.

But as soon as Sero fell, Drada felt eyes boring into him. That gaze was enough to freeze the blood in his veins. The eyes emitted sparks of outrage and fury, and he knew those eyes well. They belonged to Lady Alice.

“Fall,” Alice whispered calmly. Her words were enough to make Drada collapse to the ground as if he had lost feeling in his limbs. It wasn’t the physical pain that preoccupied him at that moment, but the realization that his real problem lay in using the shard within the academy grounds, an act punishable by expulsion.

“What happened?”

“Master Drada was beaten by that annoying orphan, and Lady Alice intervened to save him! Just as expected!”

“He deserves it!”

The voices of the girls echoed through the hall as they passed by. Each word felt like arrows piercing Drada’s heart.

Alice stood there, her heart heavy with sorrow for how things had turned out. She knew that everything being said was far from the truth, but the collective voices of the people were what shaped reality.

“If you plan to hit dogs, don’t be surprised if one of them bites you. Little Sero, you’ve made yourself an enemy of the class for the rest of the year. You lost to Lysa by your own will, and now you’re starting endless battles. Do you plan to lose every fight to win the war in the end?” Alice mused to herself, her gaze fixed on Sero with deep contemplation as he lay motionless on the ground.

She then called for the academy’s servants to take Sero to the infirmary, who had a devious smile. As for Drada, she dragged him by his ear down the hallway to the class, his body lost all power to move. Yet, the pain in his ear was nothing compared to what awaited him next.

The use of shards was prohibited at the academy, and he should have been expelled immediately for this act. But Drada knew that only Sero and Alice had the power to determine his fate in the family, as they were the only witnesses to his actions.

Throughout the class, Drada sat in silence, his forehead dripping with sweat from anxiety. His mind was in turmoil, unable to think clearly about what would happen next. After a few minutes, all the students had arrived, except Sero.

“Well, let’s not delay things. Based on the small test results, the winner of the Blood Dagger Shard is Miss Lysa,” Alice announced cheerfully as she walked toward Lysa with measured steps, casting a quick glance at the other students.

The room was filled with an atmosphere of anticipation and curiosity, with whispers flying from every corner. Alice placed a bamboo box in front of Lysa, a small decorative chest with intricate carvings.

It held the first shard Lysa had earned through Sero's effort, yet a stolen meal is still a meal, clearly more than just a prize, but a testament to her superiority over everyone in the class.

Lysa took a deep breath and gently lifted the lid to reveal the Blood Daggsr Shard, which reflected the light of the room magically with its deep red color.

Her faint smile was one of savoring, reflecting the undeniable sense of victory, especially as she held the shard and placed it into her own magic realm. The moment was a manifestation of her success in the test, and her classmates watched her with admiration and a mix of envy and entitlement.

“Thanks to the lady for this prize!” Lysa said, clasping her hands with pride before bowing her head toward Alice, who watched her with an expression that could not be entirely explained. Her smile showed happiness for Lysa’s success but was not without a hint of malice.

“As for the rest of you, you will receive your shards in six days. During these days, you will study theoretical lessons, so I suggest you note them down in your notebooks because when I say it’s impossible to memorize them, I mean it,” Alice spoke calmly, her gaze fixed on Drada the entire time as if she were enjoying his psychological torment.

Her looks sent a feeling of pressure and anxiety to Drada, as if she reveled in watching him struggle with the distress caused by his current situation.

“What happened to the brat who bullied us yesterday?” asked one of the girls curiously, her face reflecting interest and malice.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe what happened. When we arrived today, Drada had been beating him severely, but he cheated, and Miss Alice intervened to save Drada from him,” another girl answered, her eyes widening in astonishment.

“No wonder he didn’t show up! He got what he deserved!” other comments echoed, expressing their relief and mockery of the fate of someone they considered their enemy.

Laughter and whispers filled the classroom, and discussions about the recent events became common, causing all students to focus on the latest developments instead of the lesson.

Rumors spread through the classroom as the girls spoke without regard for the truth, but who cares about the truth? If a group of people decides that something is true, it becomes the truth despite everyone else! That was the common situation that led everyone to adopt the same opinion and diminish any alternative perspectives.

There was no such thing as absolute truth, only absolute agreement. If a thousand people decided that the sky was green, the stranger who said it was blue would be the subject of ridicule. That was the false truth in the world they lived in. This philosophy deeply affected their way of thinking and interactions with each other.

Sero was ugly, and Drada was handsome. Sero hit them, and Drada hit him, so Sero was evil, and Drada was good.

This was the truth imposed by the majority of students, and anyone who tried to revolt against it would be suppressed with insults, mockery, and bullying. The stereotype formed around the characters dominated every social interaction, leaving no room for doubt or inquiry.

Only Alice and Drada knew the absolute truth, and each of them would face problems because of it. Seeing the false truth unfold before them had a profound effect on their psyches.

For Alice, the desire to laugh at the folly of youth dominated her, as she saw how student behavior could be immature and based on superficial ideas.

For Drada, the desire to vomit controlled him, feeling frustrated and disgusted by the others’ failure to understand that he was the biggest loser, all he could do was beg in his mind for them to shut up.

He had only two options: hide the absolute truth or reveal it, neither of which was in his favor. He knew that each choice carried serious consequences, and there was no escaping reality.

Drada was in an unenviable position.