Click.
The doors of Headmaster Aldaric's office closed behind Iren.
Outside, the academy was silent.
It was well past midnight.
Moonlight spilled through the tall arched windows, silver and cold, casting long shadows across ancient bookshelves and relics of forgotten wars. The golden runes carved into the doors glowed faintly in the darkness — hummm… — like restrained power breathing in sleep.
The office felt different at night.
More secretive.
More dangerous.
Candles flickered softly along the walls.
Flick… flick…
Behind a massive obsidian desk sat Headmaster Aldaric, illuminated by pale moonlight. His silver hair shimmered faintly, and his eyes — sharp, knowing — reflected something far deeper than authority.
They reflected history.
"Iren."
His voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Come closer."
Thump… thump… thump…
Iren's heartbeat felt louder than his footsteps as he walked forward.
Tap… tap… tap…
He stopped before the desk, hands clenched at his sides.
For a moment, neither spoke.
The wind outside brushed against the windows.
Whooooosh…
Then—
"You have nothing to hide from me."
A pause.
"Because I already know about the Fire Ring."
The words fell like a hammer.
Iren's breath caught.
"…What?"
His fingers twitched instinctively.
He knows? That's impossible…
"I don't understand," Iren said carefully. "How do you know about it?"
Aldaric leaned back slowly. The chair creaked faintly.
"That is not what concerns me."
His gaze sharpened in the candlelight.
"What concerns me… is how you obtained it."
Silence.
The flames flickered.
Flick… flick…
"I can't tell you," Iren replied, tension in his voice.
Aldaric did not react with anger.
Instead—
"You need not fear," he said calmly. "This conversation will remain a secret. No record will exist. No one else will know."
His eyes did not waver.
"You have my word."
The sincerity in his voice shook Iren's resistance.
After a long breath—
"…I fought Ignivar."
The name itself seemed to warm the room.
"In Ashen Valley."
The Fire Ring faintly pulsed on his finger.
Fwoom…
"That is how I obtained it."
Aldaric's eyes widened slightly.
"You fought Ignivar… at seventeen?"
"I didn't win easily," Iren said quietly. "I survived."
A long silence followed.
Then Aldaric asked—
"Were you sent by Aetherion?"
The name struck harder than the first revelation.
Iren stiffened.
Aetherion…? He knows Master's name?
His throat tightened. He said nothing.
Aldaric observed his reaction carefully.
Then he opened a drawer.
Slide…
From within, he removed a red colour locket.
Moonlight caught its surface.
Iren's eyes widened instantly.
It was identical to his own.
"You recognize this," Aldaric said softly.
"…Yes."
"I was once a disciple of Aetherion."
The night air seemed to grow colder.
"Only those he trained received this token."
Aetherion's voice echoed in Iren's memory—
"You will only speak of me to those who truly knows me ."
Understanding dawned.
The locket was proof.
Proof of lineage.
Proof of belonging.
"…Then you must have gone to Ashen Valley as well," Iren said slowly.
Aldaric's gaze drifted toward the window, toward the moon.
"I did."
His voice lowered.
"I was twenty-three. Confident. Certain of my strength."
A faint, almost bitter smile.
"I challenged Ignivar for the Fire Ring."
The candles trembled slightly.
"I failed."
No excuses.
No hesitation.
"Ignivar could have killed me. Instead… he showed mercy."
Iren's eyes widened.
"Mercy…?"
"He spared not only me," Aldaric continued, "but all of Aetherion's disciples who had followed."
Silence settled again.
"When I returned," Aldaric said quietly, "Aetherion did not scold me. He did not show disappointment."
Only—
"'Live your life.'"
His voice softened.
"And then he returned to his realm."
Iren felt something shift inside him.
"But you…" Aldaric's eyes returned to him, sharper now. "You defeated Ignivar."
The Fire Ring pulsed again.
Fwoosh…
"You are the only disciple who has succeeded."
Moonlight reflected in his eyes.
"I can see it now… the pride he must have felt. The satisfaction when you left."
Aetherion's smile flashed through Iren's memory.
That calm, knowing smile.
It wasn't just approval.
It was acknowledgment.
"I will keep this secret," Aldaric said firmly. "No one else will learn of this."
Then his tone shifted.
"But listen carefully."
The air tightened.
"The remaining Bodyguards will be stronger."
A pause.
"Fiercer."
Another pause.
"And they may not show mercy."
The weight of those words lingered heavily in the midnight air.
"Your official matches will begin one week from now."
Iren blinked.
"One week?"
"Yes. The academy will grant all participants time for recovery, strategy, and preparation."
His eyes locked onto Iren's.
"Use that time wisely."
A slow nod.
"Yes, Headmaster."
Aldaric's expression softened slightly.
"Defeating Ignivar at your age is extraordinary. You have my respect."
Those words meant more than applause.
Iren bowed slightly.
"May I take my leave?"
A rare, faint smile appeared on Aldaric's face.
"You should rest. The battles ahead will be far more intense than what you have faced."
Iren turned toward the door.
Step… step…
Then—
The Fire Ring glowed brightly.
FWOOOM…
Crimson light reflected across the walls.
Aldaric's breath stilled.
For a fleeting second—
In that glow—
He did not see Iren.
He saw Aetherion.
The same presence.
The same unwavering will.
The same silent authority.
A quiet realization settled within him.
The true successor… has emerged.
The one who may one day possess all the Rings.
Iren reached the door.
He paused.
Turned back slightly.
"Goodbye, Headmaster."
Aldaric nodded once.
The door closed.
Click.
Iren's footsteps faded into the midnight corridor.
Outside, the wind howled softly across the academy towers.
Whoooooosh…
Alone in the candlelit office, Aldaric whispered into the silence—
"Aetherion… your flame lives on."
And beneath the moonlight, destiny quietly shifted.
---