Chapter 130 - Six Months To Decide

Chapter 130: 130 - Six Months To Decide

"Yes. It’s definitely a letter from Aetherion Institute. Judging by your reaction, little sister, I’m guessing it’s a pretty famous place."

Ariane stared at him as though the strange part of all this had nothing to do with the letter. "What’s strange is that you don’t know what it is."

Before Adrien could answer, Evelyne held out one hand toward the envelope. He passed it over and she drew out the sheet inside, and her expression shifted almost as soon as she began reading.

"This is a formal invitation."

Adrien blinked.

Formal?

He leaned closer and took the letter back once Evelyne finished the first section, and the moment his eyes reached the page, confusion pushed everything else aside.

The contents had changed. The casual greeting was gone, along with the director’s odd familiarity, the mention of Ariane and Evelyne, and above all the final line about the grimoire.

In its place sat a perfectly proper invitation written in polished language, inviting Adrien Clairmont to attend Aetherion Institute of Magic. He read the first paragraph twice before accepting there was no mistake.

Absolute Mana Sense fixed on the paper at once, tracing the ink, the wax and every part of the envelope. Nothing answered him. No mana rested inside the page, no spell structure showed anywhere on it.

That troubled him more than a discovery would have. His talent was SSS rank and had let him perceive things ordinary senses never touched, yet whatever rewrote this letter had done it without leaving a trace he could recognise.

Then another memory surfaced: Elyndor. The shop where he obtained the Lightning Manual had stood there when he walked in with Amelia.

They left, carried on through the city, and when they tried afterward to make sense of what happened, the place had changed entirely.

The store Adrien remembered was gone. In its place stood the shop Amelia remembered from before, as though the whole encounter had been slipped into reality for exactly as long as he needed it.

That time, though, Amelia had been with him, and she was proof that something genuinely strange had occurred even if their versions of the place never matched.

This time Adrien had been alone when he opened the letter. The first version had apparently existed for him alone, and whoever sent it clearly meant the message about the grimoire to stay private.

Evelyne watched him quietly for several seconds before speaking. "What’s going through your head, Adrien? You’ve become very quiet."

Adrien looked up from the page. "It’s the first time I’ve received anything like this. I honestly don’t know how I’m supposed to react. From Ariane’s face, apparently this is much more important than I realized."

Ariane looked almost offended by how casually he said it. "It’s important, obviously. Aetherion is where some of the strongest mages gather."

Adrien turned toward her fully. "Only mages?"

"Only mages. If you were a Spellblade, they wouldn’t accept you just because you could cast spells. They want people whose entire Path is built around magic and developing it."

Her enthusiasm only climbed as she went on. "It’s one of the most prestigious magical institutions in the world. Maybe you don’t hear about it much because it’s outside our continent, but you’re a Mage. You should know what Aetherion is."

Adrien was more surprised by Ariane than by the explanation. She rarely sounded this animated about institutions, noble families or anything tied to status, which made clear that Aetherion meant something entirely different to her.

Evelyne put her cup down carefully. "You should go."

Adrien looked toward her. "You want me to?"

"You want to study magic. Everyone in Greymoor knows that much. We hear you practicing almost every day, and you’ve spent most of your time since awakening trying to understand spells."

She glanced at the invitation. "If Aetherion is inviting you directly, you’ll have access to teachers, research and resources you cannot find here. You’d be wasting an opportunity if you refused without seriously considering it."

Adrien went quiet. By everything they were telling him, the invitation was almost absurdly valuable, and a place devoted entirely to magic was precisely the environment he would have chosen for himself.

Leaving Greymoor was another matter. There were still things he wanted to fix, territory that had only just grown stable and a family he had spent these last months getting closer to.

In his previous life he had chased whatever benefited him most and learned too late what neglecting everything else cost him, and he had no intention of repeating that simply because the opportunity in front of him was good.

Evelyne seemed to follow all of it without him saying a word. "We aren’t in the same position we were a few months ago. Greymoor is stable. We have people working for us now, Garrick has more soldiers, and I finally have enough help that I don’t need to handle everything myself."

She held his gaze. "We’ll be fine without you for a while."

Would they?

For once the question arrived without an immediate reason to doubt the answer.

Evelyne continued. "Your sister would’ve accepted before finishing the letter. She probably would’ve left before remembering to say goodbye."

Ariane’s expression moved just enough to make Adrien suspect their mother was not exaggerating by much.

Evelyne looked back at the page. "Besides, it says the next intake begins in six months. You aren’t leaving tomorrow. You have plenty of time to prepare and decide what needs to be done before you go."

Six months changed the picture considerably.

Adrien could strengthen Clairmont further, keep training, resolve anything that needed him directly and make certain his absence created problems for nobody.

He looked at the invitation one final time. "Alright. Then I suppose you’ll have to manage without me for a while."

Evelyne’s expression eased, and Ariane looked entirely unsurprised by the decision. Before either of them could answer, hurried footsteps came up the garden path, fast enough to pull all three heads around.

Vikir appeared between the hedges moments later, moving far quicker than Adrien had ever seen him move around Greymoor.

Sweat marked his forehead and his breathing ran heavy enough that several seconds passed before he could speak.

That alone was enough to straighten Adrien’s back. Vikir never arrived anywhere looking like that without a reason.