Read Novel Full Chapter 447: Commemoration Ceremony [I]
Chapter 447: Commemoration Ceremony [I]
Ray was actually much more helpful than I had given him credit for.
While the rest of us were leaving for home, he pulled me aside to show me something on his phone.
A five-minute action-filled compilation of the footage he had shot during our harrowing journey through the Noctveil Wilds.
He seemed to have taken only our best moments and masterfully spliced them together with an epic orchestral theme playing in the background.
It looked less like a survivor’s record and more like a trailer for a blockbuster movie. Which, it kind of was.
“What’s this?” I asked, amused and amazed in equal measure.
“A little teaser for when I’ll release the vlogs on my channel,” he smirked. “But for now, it’s going to work as our campaign ad. I’ll make it go viral within hours. So by the time the Mock War starts, our enemies will be forced to re-evaluate us and our allies will be completely reassured that they backed the winning side.”
Demotivating the opposition to shake their resolve, all the while uplifting the morale of our own faction.
“You’re brilliant!” I couldn’t help but grin. “But… you know, Alexia wouldn’t like this. She already hates that the Academy is using us for propaganda.”
“Ugh,” Ray made a face. “I saw their interview video. What a mess. They could’ve made it so much better.” A pause. “As for Alex, I think we’ll be fine if nobody tells her.”
I almost didn’t get it for a moment. Then, I finally remembered. “Aaah! Because she can’t see!”
“Because she can’t see!” Ray said in unison, nodding with me.
We were terrible people.
•••
A few things happened right after the conclusion of the tournament.
Cadet Council President Vereshia herself appeared in the Grand Coliseum to announce that there was going to be a Mock War between my sister and me.
All first-years, new or old, were free to take sides.
As for Thalia, she’d be crowned Ace during the Commemoration Ceremony that was going to be held to honor the returnees of the Wilds.
The war would kick off in three days’ time — rules, limitations, and standard guidelines would be sent directly to each cadet’s personal terminal an hour before it did. Until then, they could online register themselves to either of the two official faction databases.
Even though almost everyone had already heard the rumors, Vereshia’s announcement still sent the already ecstatic crowd into an absolute frenzy.
People were already drawing up faction lines, placing bets, and arguing over whether the Tyrant of Apex could actually match the newly crowned Ace.
The other thing people were doing was replaying the last few minutes of the finale, especially the part where Thalia redirected a natural lightning bolt from the rainy sky and used it to ground the undefeated titan of their batch.
It was all the campus could talk about.
Every tactical forum, every dining hall discussion and social media feed, was dominated by slow-mo frame-by-frame breakdowns of her last move.
Because what the fuck even was that?
Most of the critics were calling her incredibly lucky.
She was only able to pull her miracle move because she had jumped to avoid an attack.
The moment she reached the apex of her leap, her sword had accidentally drawn the lightning that was already arcing through the stormy atmosphere.
They claimed it was a freak meteorological coincidence, a billion-to-one cosmic fluke that could never be replicated.
Others were arguing that whilst she may have been lucky about the timing, she was still ready for it.
If she wasn’t circulating the Essence inside her body in a way to let the path of the current safely flow through her, she would have been charred to a crisp before she even hit the ground.
They weren’t wrong.
I understood the theory.
A typical natural lightning bolt contained anywhere from a million to a billion volts of electricity.
To put this in perspective, even my Divine Vajra only allowed me to generate somewhere between ten and twenty million volts at my current rank.
And I was B-rank.
So a natural lightning bolt could be considered around the level of, what? A-rank? S-rank? At least between those two tiers.
For a B-rank Cadet to even attempt absorbing and channeling that much voltage was madness. You’d need to make sure you don’t mistakenly fry your nervous system.
You’d also need to make sure your heart and brain are avoided at all costs.
You’d have to guide all that electricity with surgical precision down your arm, bypassing your central nervous system entirely, and force it out onto your blade before the pressure literally cooked you from the inside out.
It was a suicidal maneuver that required a microscopic level of Essence control. And even if you had that, you needed a psychotic level of confidence to pull something like that off.
Because you’d only get a single chance. One microsecond of a slip-up, and you’d be down if not dead.
Needless to say, I was genuinely impressed.
Also needless to say, I would never attempt that shit even if I had the confidence — which I didn’t.
I wasn’t batshit crazy.
“But it turns out that my sister is,” I groaned, getting ready for the ceremony. “No, seriously, what even goes on in that girl’s head?”
Grumbling and mumbling, I checked myself in the mirror of the Hall of Fame’s changing room. It had been a long time since I had donned my uniform.
They just handed it to me when I arrived here, the measurements based on my old profile. As such, it was fitting me a little looser around the shoulders than it should have.
But after deciding I still looked hot enough to make the covers of Apex magazines anyway, I stopped fussing with the collar and made it to the main event.
Shimmering chandeliers of diamond, intricate murals of gold depicting the brave deeds of some of the world-renowned graduates, crested banners of all of the four Monarchical families — the Grand Hall of Fame was the very definition of old-money architecture.
It was built specifically to remind you that you were small, and the institution you were standing in was massive.
My nose picked up all the distinct scents of expensive cologne, polished mahogany, and smoky cigars — you know, the scent of excess wealth — as I navigated my way toward the raised dais at the far end of the Hall.
The room was packed.
Third-year uniformed Cadets stood in spaced formations and big-name media reporters were scattered all around.
The balconies above were crowded with professors, military liaisons, and representatives from many different major noble houses.
The ambient chatter hushed wherever I walked, like a bubble of silence moving with my footsteps, only to pop into low whispers the moment my back was turned.
The scrutiny of third-years didn’t bother me.
The reporters clicking their cameras in my face didn’t bother me either, even as the bright flashes momentarily blinded me in rapid succession.
I just kept my posture straight and walked with the kind of unfazed noble elegance I had been taught since birth.
My peers were already there, standing on either side of the massive velvet-carpeted walkway that led to a wide central stage.
To the left were girls — Thalia, who was here to officially be crowned Ace. Juliana, Lily, and Alexia for their valiant feats.
Oh yeah, by the way, Lily was here. It was the first time any of us had seen her since our return from the Golden Sanctuary, and the girl looked… well, a total wreck.
It was obvious she didn’t want to be here. And judging by her baggy eyes and messy hair that even the Academy’s best stylists had clearly given up on, she looked like she had spent the last week locked in a dark room mainlining nothing but self-pity and cheap convenience store ramen.
I almost felt bad.
To the right were the guys — Michael, Kang, and Ray. I joined them, completing the lineup.
Next to me, Michael kept darting anxious, heart-wrenching glances across the carpet toward Lily. If he looked any more desperate, I feared the security was going to escort him out.
Ray was obviously making fun of him. Kang would occasionally join in.
I ignored the two jerks like my one-eyed friend was doing, and asked him, “Did you talk to her?”
Michael simply shook his head. “She refuses to even look at me.”
I could’ve said something, but right then as if on cue, Vereshia Morrigan stepped up to the central microphone.
A stifling silence dropped over the entire Grand Hall of Fame — the shutters of cameras the only thing breaking the quiet.
Vereshia leaned on the dais and smiled. When she spoke, her voice rang out loud and clear. “When I was but a little girl, my father told me heroism was a debt, not a choice. He told me if you are strong, the responsibility to protect those who are not is a righteous burden upon you.”
She shrugged. “For the longest time, I believed him. I thought heroism was a ledger of burdens. But looking at the Saviours of the Bloody Night standing before me today, I realize my father wasn’t entirely right.
“Heroism isn’t a debt. Because you cannot owe what cannot be priced. Alexia Von Zynx, Michael Godswill, and Samael Kaizer Theosbane. What these three achieved in the fall of Night Sanctuary wasn’t a duty fulfilled. It was an act of defiance against the horrors of fate. They bled and helped and saved over four hundred of their peers from the jaws of oblivion.
“And they didn’t stop there. Together with their companions — Lily Elderwing, Kang Tae-jin, Ray Warner, Juliana Vox Blade, and Vincent Cleverly who’s unfortunately absent today — they forged a path through the uncharted, hyper-hostile depths of the Noctveil Wilds. When the world was ready to write them off as tragedies, they wrote a new chapter of survival.”
The applause that followed was deafening. It started with the high-ranking military liaisons on the balconies and swept through the third-years until the entire hall was a roaring thunder of claps and flashing cameras.
“For conspicuous gallantry, survival against impossible odds, and upholding the apex standard under the threat of absolute termination,” Vereshia projected, her eyes scanning our row with a sharp intensity. “The Academy officially recognizes the Saviours of the Bloody Night and Returnees of the Noctveil Wilds. Please welcome Ryong Zhao Wayforge, the son of esteemed Duke Wayforge who couldn’t be here himself today due to his ongoing military campaign, but has graciously sent his eldest son to present the medals on his behalf.”
Wait, what?!
I flinched as a tall, broad-shouldered young man stepped out from the wings of the stage.
His meticulously braided black hair and thin eyes were brought into focus by the dark jade, formal military dress uniform he was clad in.
He carried a velvet cushion resting with several gleaming bronze medals shaped like roaring basilisks.
My friends looked at me. The reporters looked between Thalia and me. And Thalia just glared murderously at the man.
But I didn’t even get to properly process all this as he started calling out our names one after another, pinning the medals to our chests.
It was my turn before I knew it.
The Wayforge heir stepped in front of me, his massive frame blotting out the glare of the cameras.
Up close, I could sense how big he was. And I don’t just mean physically. I mean his presence. As a fully-realized S-ranker, his aura was like a physical weight pressing down on the air around him.
Even though his physique wasn’t overly threatening, the man felt like an armored division masquerading as a human being.
“Lord Theosbane,” he greeted me in a voice only the two of us could hear. But that was no greeting. Or not a pleasant one, at least. “I was waiting so long to meet you and your sister. One of you is going to die when that foolish father of yours sends you to me.”
My hands remained flat at my sides, but inside my sleeves, my fingers flexed.
It would be a lie to say my anger didn’t flare, but I wasn’t going to rise to his bait here.
If I had to give him a proper reply, I’d do so on the battlefield.
But that didn’t mean I was going to let him walk away thinking he could drop an open threat and leave with his ego intact.
I leaned forward an inch and looked him dead in his thin, arrogant eyes. “Is that right? And how would you kill me? Like you failed to kill my brother Ezra, who’s still sitting on your chest in your own home?”
If Ryong was even the slightest bit bothered by the mention of my older brother, he didn’t show it when he snickered down at me and moved to the next person in line.
I guess I had one more asshole to add in my list of people whose teeth I was eventually going to have to skip across the pavement.