CHAPTER — 44 The painted face(1)
Thud...!
Ritvik collapsed face-first onto the cafeteria table like a soldier returning from war after losing every possible battle. His glasses had tilted halfway down his nose, while his soul looked moments away from abandoning his body entirely.
The nearby students instinctively glanced at him before quietly returning to their meals, clearly deciding that whatever tragedy had struck him was none of their business.
Across from him, Rowan calmly scooped another spoonful of food into his mouth before finally asking,
"What happened to you?"
Ritvik slowly lifted his head with the expression of a deeply betrayed man.
"What happened?" he repeated in exaggerated disbelief. "You are asking me what happened?"
He pointed an accusing finger directly at Rowan, his hand trembling dramatically.
"You call yourself a friend, yet you were the one who first handed me over to that witch. And then later, when she started dragging me around the forest like some kidnapped hostage, you just stood there and watched."
Rowan blinked once.
"Wait... we are friends?"
Ritvik froze.
A look of pure offense spread across his face as if Rowan had personally stabbed him in the chest.
"So you didn't think we were friends?"
"No," Rowan replied honestly before taking another bite. "I just wasn't sure if you thought of me as your friend."
For a moment, Ritvik simply stared at him in silence.
Then he leaned back dramatically and covered his face with both hands.
"Oh god... Why didn't I make two or three loyal enemies instead of a friend like this? At least enemies stay loyal in their hatred."
A quiet chuckle escaped Rowan's lips.
Watching Ritvik spiral into theatrical despair for something so trivial felt strangely entertaining.
The cafeteria around them buzzed with life.
Students from every class filled the massive hall, their conversations blending together with the sounds of plates clinking and chairs scraping against the polished floor.
Sunlight streamed through the tall crystal windows lining the walls, bathing the entire cafeteria in warm golden light.
For the first time since arriving at Grand Aetherion—
Rowan felt relaxed.
His gaze drifted slightly as his thoughts wandered elsewhere.
'I didn't know the academy could actually be this fun.'
He glanced at Ritvik again, who was still muttering curses about the "red-haired tyrantess" under his breath.
A faint smile formed on Rowan's lips.
'I wonder if bhaiya also made friends here.'
But the moment the thought of his brother surfaced—
The warmth in Rowan's expression dimmed.
His hand slowly lowered onto the table.
'It's already been quite some time since I came here...'
'I wonder how ma and papa are doing.'
A quiet breath escaped him.
When he first entered Grand Aetherion, he had believed he would immediately uncover clues about his brother's disappearance. Instead, his days had become consumed by lessons, training sessions, and endless academy activities.
So far—
All he had truly seen of the academy were classrooms, training grounds, cafeterias, and old paintings decorating the walls.
Nothing more.
No clues.
No answers.
No direction.
Rowan stared quietly at the cafeteria ceiling for a few seconds before lowering his gaze again.
Meanwhile Ritvik was still rambling dramatically about betrayal, but Rowan had already stopped listening halfway through.
After finishing his meal, Rowan picked up his plate and stood.
"I'll be back."
Ritvik weakly waved a hand without even looking at him.
"Go... abandon me too while you're at it."
Rowan ignored him and walked toward the return counter.
Clink—
The sound echoed softly as he placed the empty plate onto the counter.
He turned around to leave—
But someone suddenly approached him from the side.
"Hey."
Rowan turned his head.
"You are the winner of Group Eight from the Arena Duel, right?"
Standing there was a tall young man whose very presence seemed to distort the atmosphere around him.
He was handsome in a way that felt almost dangerous.
Every feature on his face possessed an aristocratic sharpness—as though sculpted with obsessive precision. A perfectly defined jawline. High cheekbones. Smooth wheaty skin untouched by blemishes. Yet there was nothing gentle about him.
His face carried the cold elegance of someone born above others.
Predatory.
Untouchable.
The kind of person people instinctively avoided eye contact with.
His hair resembled the color of a midnight storm—dark charcoal layered with faint streaks of silver-blue that shimmered whenever light touched them. Messy strands framed his face naturally, giving him the appearance of someone who walked calmly beneath thunderclouds.
But his eyes—
Those eyes were what truly unsettled people.
A metallic silver-gray, cold and luminous like an overcast sky moments before lightning split it apart. The black pupils at their center contrasted so sharply against those bright irises that his gaze felt less like being looked at—
And more like being dissected.
Even standing casually, he radiated the aura of someone who looked born to become either a legend—
Or a catastrophe.
Rowan stared at him for a moment before his eyes widened slightly in realization.
He remembered him.
This was the same person who had fought Lyren inside the restaurant.
"You're the one who fought that Lyren guy in the restaurant," Rowan blurted out unconsciously while pointing directly at him.
The silver-eyed boy paused—
Then chuckled softly.
"Looks like you saw that."
He casually patted Rowan's shoulder as if the incident had been nothing important.
A brief silence followed before he continued,
"By the way, you still haven't answered my question."
"Oh— right." Rowan nodded quickly. "Yes, I'm the winner of Group Eight."
The young man extended his hand calmly.
"I'm Ashwin Skyris."
The surname carried weight.
Even Rowan, who remained mostly ignorant about mage factions, recognized the name instantly.
The Skyrend Sanctum.
A faction famous for combining wind and lightning magic into destructive hybrid spells.
Rowan shook his hand casually.
"I'm Rowan."
"I watched your battle during the Arena Duel," Ashwin said, his silver-gray eyes fixed directly on Rowan. "The way you use that axe-shaped wand is interesting. Unusual too."
Rowan stood awkwardly.
He still had no idea how to properly react whenever people praised him.
Ashwin continued anyway.
"You're currently unaffiliated, right?"
"Hm? Yeah."
"Then why don't you join the Skyrend faction?"
Rowan blinked.
"Huh?"
Ashwin's expression remained calm, but his gaze sharpened slightly.
"Our Sanctum values variation in magic styles more than most factions do. Someone with your kind of combat style would grow quickly there."
He leaned slightly closer.
"And after graduating from the academy, you could even—"
Suddenly—
An arm hooked itself around Rowan's neck.
"Heyyyy Rowan!"
Ritvik appeared out of nowhere and immediately started dragging him backward.
"What's taking you so long? Did you forget our plans?"
"Huh?" Rowan frowned in confusion while being pulled away. "Plans? What plans?"
"Those plans," Ritvik replied instantly without elaborating further.
Before Rowan could protest—
Ritvik had already started dragging him away from the cafeteria.
Ashwin narrowed his eyes slightly as he watched them retreat.
But his attention wasn't on Rowan anymore.
It was fixed on Ritvik.
The silver-gray glow in his eyes dimmed faintly as though recognizing something.
Soon both Rowan and Ritvik disappeared beyond the cafeteria doors.
But even after both of them vanished beyond the cafeteria doors, Ashwin's eyes remained fixed in that direction for a few more seconds, thoughtful and unreadable.
The atmosphere around him had subtly changed.
The casual ease from before was gone.
The boy standing beside Ashwin finally spoke.
"Why didn't you stop them?"
Ashwin slowly exhaled.
"I was caught off guard for a moment."
A brief silence followed.
The boy beside him glanced toward the exit before looking back at Ashwin.
"Hey Ash... does the guy dragging the axe dude away know you or something?"
Ashwin slowly turned his head toward him.
"Everybody knows me."
The reply came smoothly.
Naturally.
Like an unquestionable fact.
"Oh... yeah." The boy laughed awkwardly and nodded quickly. "That's true."
Ashwin placed a hand onto his shoulder.
"And how many times do I have to tell you this?"
Ashwin leaned slightly closer, his silver-gray eyes carrying a faint glint that made the other boy instinctively lower his gaze.
"Don't forget the 'Win.'"
His fingers just remained there on the boy's shoulder.
"Don't call me Ash."
His voice remained calm—
But the pressure behind it became suffocating.
"Say my full name properly."
The boy's shoulders visibly trembled.
"I-I'm sorry."
Ashwin slowly removed his hand before turning his gaze back toward the cafeteria exit where Rowan had disappeared moments ago.
His silver-gray eyes narrowed faintly.
The cafeteria noise continued around them loudly—
But Ashwin no longer seemed interested in any of it.
---
CHAPTER ENDS