King Aurelion Silpatra was reviewing border dispatches in his private study when the sealed report arrived.
A single sheet, plain wax, delivered by a palace steward who bowed and withdrew without a word.
Aurelion broke the seal and read.
The message was brief, written in the tight script of the academy's senior administrator.
*Fourth Prince Kael Silpatra's physical displays continue to escalate. Cadets speak openly of strength without Aura. Morale and hierarchy at risk. Recommend royal presence to reaffirm the sacred ranks.*
Aurelion set the paper down.
He leaned back, fingers steepled.
Kael remained a problem—useful against monsters, perhaps, but dangerous to the order that Aura represented.
He murmured to himself, "The boy must be shown his place. Cassian could remind the academy what true power means."
He rose, intending to summon his eldest son the next morning.
Unknown to him, Crown Prince Cassian had been passing the study door at that exact moment.
He paused in the shadowed corridor.
Heard every word.
His golden Aura flickered hot with anger.
Without Aura, one is scum.
The whispers had reached even his father's ears.
Cassian did not wait for orders.
He turned and left the palace that night—no escort, no announcement, only his sword and his pride.
By early morning, he arrived alone at the Royal Academy of Silpatra.
The gates opened in confusion.
Cadets were roused from breakfast and assembled in the main yard.
Cassian strode into the center, cloak thrown back, Aura blazing bright gold.
His voice rang out.
"I am Cassian Silpatra, Paladin of the kingdom—the youngest in our recorded history. At seventeen I have climbed every sacred rank granted by Piera."
He let his Aura pulse, warm and divine.
"Listen well. The path of the swordsman is clear:
The Sword Novice awakens the gift—basic reinforcement, faint sensing, blade of steel alone.
The Sword Star stabilizes it—enhanced body, brief releases, flashes of Aura on the edge.
The Bronze Warrior earns recognition—consistent coating, basic techniques, a thin Aura edge that extends the sword.
The Golden Knight stands elite—refined control, defensive armor, projected slashes, a solid Aura blade that cuts steel and barriers.
The Paladin is chosen—sacred energy infused, healing light, resistance to corruption, a radiant blade that purifies and burns evil.
Beyond lie Sword Master, Sword Grandmaster, and the transcendent Great Saint—legends who shape Aura freely, cut concepts, alter reality itself."
Golden radiance flared brighter, pressing cadets to their knees.
"Without this path," Cassian said coldly, "there is only brute flesh. Scum beneath the divine ladder."
His eyes found Kael near the back, beside Jade, both halfway through plates from the breakfast cart laden with spiced ribs and roasted hams.
"Brother," Cassian called. "Spar with me. Here. Now. I will limit myself to Golden Knight level—no sacred radiance. Prove your rumors if you dare."
The yard hushed.
Kael looked up slowly.
Recognized Cassian.
Then looked back at his plate.
Finished the last rib.
Cassian gestured to the cart.
"Come, Kael. The meat smells good, doesn't it?"
He walked to the cart, lifted a full platter of glistening beef ribs, and held it high.
Kael's gaze locked on it.
He stood.
Walked forward.
Then ran.
Straight for the meat.
Cadets parted in alarm.
Cassian smiled thinly and shifted the platter just out of reach.
"Not yet. First admit the truth. Say that without Aura you are scum. Say it, and the meat is yours."
Kael skidded to a stop.
Stared at the ribs.
Then at Cassian.
His gray eyes reddened.
Deepened.
His voice came low, rough.
"Meat."
Cassian dangled the platter higher.
"Then beg like the beast you are."
The wooden training sword was still in Kael's hand from morning drills.
He moved.
Cheetah speed.
Wolf-pack twist.
The swing was simple—no rank, no technique.
It met Cassian's hastily raised guard.
Golden Knight Aura armor flared—solid, gleaming.
The impact shattered it like glass.
Cassian staggered.
Before he could recover, Kael was on him.
Fist after fist.
Force in every blow.
Reflexes too fast for even a Paladin to track fully.
Cassian tried sacred radiance—golden light bursting forth.
A fist cracked through it.
Nose broke.
Ribs snapped.
Aura pathways tore under brute force.
The youngest Paladin in history crumpled, bloodied and gasping.
Kael stopped only when Cassian no longer moved.
The platter had fallen, ribs scattered across the stone.
Kael knelt.
And ate.
Nonstop.
Rib after rib.
Bones cracked between teeth.
Marrow sucked dry.
Grease and blood coating his face, hands, uniform.
He did not pause until every scrap was gone.
Only then did he stand.
Wiped his mouth.
Looked once at his broken brother.
"Meat."
Then walked away.
Jade followed, whistling low.
The yard remained frozen.
Instructors shouted for healers.
Cadets backed away in silence.
Hours later, back in the palace, the blood-smeared emergency report reached King Aurelion.
He read it alone.
Crown Prince Cassian acted without orders.
Challenged fourth prince publicly.
Provoked with food.
Fourth prince entered berserk state.
Crown Prince gravely injured—multiple fractures, disrupted Aura pathways.
Academy in shock.
Aurelion's hand trembled slightly as he set the scroll down.
His perfect heir lay broken.
By the null boy's hands.
Triggered by nothing more than denied meat.
The king stared out the window toward the distant academy spires.
For the first time, he wondered if reminders were enough.
In the hidden chamber beneath the temple, Thalion read the same account from his observer.
*The null child shattered a Paladin when starved. Crown Prince near death. No Aura used.*
The old man closed his eyes.
"The beast has tasted the ladder itself."
But no one in palace or academy spoke of any veil.
Only of the quiet prince who became a monster when hungry.
And of the price of pride.