Chapter 69: The Award Ceremony

Caelus returned to his residence and spent the remaining hours of the evening doing what he had become accustomed to whenever too many thoughts occupied his mind. He opened his notebooks, reviewed everything he had recorded, then added the newest irregularities to the growing list of changes that had already begun separating this world from the one he remembered writing.

Once he was satisfied, he turned to the blank pages reserved for spell development.

Creating an entirely new spell from nothing would take considerably more time than he currently had. Studying existing spells would be more efficient. He could isolate the principles that interested him, modify or combine them into something more useful, and strengthen himself while gaining a deeper understanding of magic in the process.

The only problem was that he felt slightly guilty every time he reduced someone else’s painstaking research into a collection of parts he intended to steal.

Some scholar had probably spent decades refining a spell until every circle and mana pathway worked exactly as intended, and Caelus was sitting in his room dismantling it to see which pieces he wanted.

Then again, he had written most of those spells himself.

The thought left him strangely conflicted.

He eventually put the notebook aside and tried to sleep.

It had been days since he’d rested properly, and falling asleep proved more difficult than expected. Every time he closed his eyes, another thought surfaced.

Eventually exhaustion won.

When Caelus opened his eyes again, sunlight was already filling the room.

It took him a moment to remember what day it was.

Today was the day he would officially receive the title of Apex.

He left the mansion alone for a walk.

The Academy was already awake. Students crossed the wide paths between buildings in groups, while others stood beneath the trees talking about the ceremony. A few recognized him and went quiet as he passed.

Caelus barely noticed.

He had expected Rank One to feel different.

For years, he had imagined what it would be like to reach the highest position in the Academy, and when he had written the original story, he had treated the achievement as one of the first major milestones for his characters. He had assumed that standing at the top would come with some sense of pride once it became real.

Instead, the title only made the distance ahead of him more obvious.

Rank One had been the goal of the entrance examination.

It wasn’t even close to the goal he actually cared about.

He still had a long way to go before he could even be ready for the Corrupt King, and somewhere beneath all of it was the question he still couldn’t answer.

Caelus looked across the Academy grounds for a moment longer.

Then he turned around and returned to his residence.

Mira had already prepared breakfast.

Caelus sat down and ate in silence, listening to the soft clicking of plates and utensils while Mira stood nearby.

When he finished, she stepped forward.

"Young master, the award ceremony will begin in an hour. The Academy has sent your official Rank One uniform, and you’ve also been informed that you will be giving a speech."

Caelus looked at her.

"You prepared my bath?"

Mira nodded.

"You can get in."

Caelus stood and followed her.

Once inside, he removed the bandages that had covered most of his body since the examination.

The bruising was still visible across his torso, dark and ugly beneath the newer scars. His shoulders had healed enough for the shape of his body to become clear again, broad through the upper frame and lean everywhere else, the muscles defined from months of training rather than built for appearance.

Several fresh scars crossed his skin.

Looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, Caelus was reminded of the heroes from the anime Lark had watched back on Earth.

For a moment, he missed that life.

Lark’s life had been confined to a bed for years, and yet there had been something comforting about how little the world demanded from him. Write a Chapter. Eat. Sleep. Wake up and write another.

Simple.

There had been pain, loneliness and Sara, of course, but the routine itself had been easy to understand.

Caelus sighed and lowered himself into the bath.

"Mira."

"Yes?"

"Add some healing potion."

She nodded and poured a measured amount into the water.

The stiffness in his muscles began to loosen, and some of the smaller injuries seemed to close faster beneath the heat. It wasn’t enough to erase what had happened, but the improvement was noticeable.

The itching was considerably less pleasant.

Caelus endured it until he judged the bath had done enough, then stood, dried himself and wrapped a towel around his waist before leaving the room.

His uniform was waiting outside.

Mira had laid it out carefully.

The Academy’s standard silver had been replaced by black. The fitted blazer was almost entirely dark, with restrained gold embroidery tracing the cuffs and collar and a small Academy crest worked into the breast. Beneath it was an ivory shirt with a high collar, paired with a deep crimson tie and dark tailored trousers. The contrast was enough to separate him from every other student without turning him into some gaudy prince.

Mira helped him into the blazer and straightened the collar before adjusting the tie.

Caelus looked down at it.

Even when he had been Lark, tying a tie had seemed like one of the seven great wonders of civilization.

Apparently transmigration had failed to solve that particular problem.

He let Mira finish it.

Once she had stepped back, he looked at himself in the mirror.

The person staring back was nothing like the hospital patient Lark had once been.

He turned away.

By the time he reached the auditorium, the noise inside had become impossible to miss.

Mira was unable to follow him beyond the entrance, so Caelus entered alone.

The enormous hall was already packed with students. Nobles had naturally gathered in their own clusters, their conversations measured and controlled even when they were clearly trying to appear relaxed. Commoners had formed their own groups farther across the hall, speaking louder and with less restraint.

Every conversation shifted when Caelus entered.

He could feel the attention settle on him almost immediately.

Every other first-year wore the Academy’s silver blazer.

He was the only student dressed in black.

Caelus ignored the whispers and looked toward the stage.