Chapter 13: Sugar, Sparks, and Stupid Pride
"Come on—this way," Lyra said, weaving through clusters of nobles with Azeroth following behind with quiet resignation.
A few moments earlier, after he'd eaten the fifth pastry off the poor serpent servant's tray, which had also been the last—effectively freeing the man from his purgatory—Lyra had suggested going to the place were the other kids were gathered.
He was ready to decline.
Then she mentioned there were more desserts over there.
His resolve shattered instantly.
The "kids area" was louder and far brighter than the rest of the ballroom—almost aggressively cheerful. Pastel ribbons hung overhead, enchanted butterflies flitted between tables, and three marble counters overflowed with pastries, candied fruits, and dangerously overdecorated cakes.
Noble children swarmed the area like sugar-fed piranhas. They chatted, argued, giggled, ran around—refined noble chaos, but chaos nonetheless.
Azeroth blinked once but in the same instant ignored them placing his full focus on the tables filled with desserts
Lyra was fully in her element, greeting the other kids with small waves. Some greeted back with squeals. Others whispered when they noticed Azeroth, giving him curious side-glances.
He ignored all of it.
People had never really been his thing—neither as Sam nor as Azeroth, and living a somewhat sheltered life in this world did nothing to help, in fact it became worse.
In all seven years Azeroth has been in this world, he could probably count the number of times he has left the palace in both hands—most of that being to the divine temple.
A place built to worship and pray the human divine.
But the dessert table…
That was a spiritual experience on its own.
He assembled his plate like a master engineer assembling a sacred artifact:
three cream puffs, a slice of golden-berry cake, some sparkling fruit jelly, and the suspiciously fluffy purple blob next to it. He took a bite.
By the third mouthful, he reached enlightenment.
⸻
Across the room, Arienna Fall—today's birthday girl, draped in a graceful purple flower dress—sat among a circle of noble kids.
One among them—a boy, sat far too close to her for her liking, speaking animatedly, hand gestures as though trying to impress her.
She wasn't listening.
Her gaze had locked on Lyra—her sister.
Or more specifically… on the unfamiliar boy beside her.
She watched Lyra lead him to the dessert table.
Watched him destroy pastries with serene focus.
Watched as Lyra joined him with a smile, soon they were having a competition—he is winning.
Curiosity flickered.
Then interest.
She rose with practiced elegance. Her entourage paused mid-conversation as she glided away, leaving the clingy boy speaking to empty air.
Lyra saw her approaching and brightened. "Azeroth this is—"
Arienna gently cut her off, eyes fixed entirely on Azeroth.
He definitely was not the most handsome boy she'd ever seen—but that seemed not to matter as she found herself inexplicably drawn to him.
"Arienna," she said with a polite smile, extending a hand toward him with noble poise… and poorly hidden blush.
Azeroth blinked, swallowed a mouthful of cake, and returned the handshake with a perfectly composed courtesy.
"Azeroth Clinton."
Her blush deepened. "Oh! Nice to meet you."
Lyra blinked, confused at the sudden shyness from her usually proud sister.
Arienna gave Lyra a fleeting, apologetic glance—but her eyes stayed glued to Azeroth. Soon she was giggling—laughing even—at every thing he said. Even when he wasn't actually trying to be funny.
She brushed his sleeve once.
Then again.
Azeroth, mildly baffled, assumed she was simply in a good mood and returned to his dessert.
⸻
Daven Crest, heir to the Crest Viscounty and lifelong recipient of excessive praise, watched from across the room like a stormcloud with eyes.
He'd been trying to talk to Arienna minutes earlier.
She'd barely acknowledged him.
Now she was blushing and laughing with another boy?
He froze.
Then stiffened.
Then marched over with a smile so painfully fake it deserved an award.
"Arienna," he said, inserting himself between them with the grace of a brick. "you left so suddenly. We weren't done talking. I was saying—"
"I'm busy," she cut in calmly. "Maybe later."
That alone shattered Daven's ego.
But when she casually accepted a pastry from Azeroth's hand with a soft "thank you," Daven's composure cracked like glass.
He panicked, grabbed a pastry, and tried feeding her as well.
She took it with her hands—not receiving it from her hand like she did Azeroth—gave a robotic "thank you," and went right back to chatting with Azeroth.
Daven's smile died.
Jealousy rolled off him like smoke.
He needed an outlet and Azeroth as the cause, became the chosen one.
"So," Daven began loudly, dripping venom, "I heard the Clinton family's struggling these days. Must be difficult with the Viscount away. Can't even afford proper meals anymore?"
Kids nearby turned instantly, scenting drama.
Azeroth didn't react. He continued eating, utterly unimpressed.
Arienna frowned. Lyra's eyes narrowed.
But Daven wasn't finished.
"That's normal, I suppose. If not for your grandfather, your family would've collapsed. Your father is basically—"
His grin sharpened.
"—trash. Hence why the old man can't even retire."
Gasps erupted like fireworks.
Even adults began glancing over.
Azeroth slowly lifted his gaze.
Cold. Still. Unimpressed. He gave Daven one look—Just one.
Then replied in a single word.
"Pathetic."
The word hit like a slap.
Hushed snickers erupted everywhere—as the situation reversed in but an instant.
Arienna tried to stifle a giggle and failed.
Lyra outright folded over, clutching her stomach in laughter.
Daven's face turned red.
Then purple.
Then that dangerous shade of "I'm about to ruin my bloodline's reputation."
"You—!" he spat. "I challenge you to a duel!"
Azeroth raised a slow brow. "Are you sure? I'll give you exactly five seconds to take that back."
He let a fraction of his aura slip.
Power rippled sharply.
Kids gasped. Even the few watching adults jolted, eyes widening.
Whispers exploded.
And soon the entire hall was aware of the seven year old evolver.
But Daven…
Daven laughed.
"Ohh, so that's why you're confident. How cute."
He unleashed his own aura—messy but undeniably real.
More gasps. More whispers. Even Arienna's eyes widened.
He looked at her, smug satisfaction blooming when he saw her reaction.
"I was saving this for the academy," he bragged, "but you forced me."
Azeroth looked at him for a moment…
Then looked toward his parents.
They stood at a distance, calm but watchful. His mother gave a tiny nod. His father's posture relaxed in quiet approval.
That was all he needed.
Azeroth turned back to Daven.
"I accept."