Chapter 12 Scars That Do Not Heal

With the exception of the Velmora boy, who was crying with his hand pressed against his face, the rest of the refectory had fallen completely silent.

The irritated expression on the headmistress’s face, together with her legendary dryad a few steps behind her, seemed enough to instill fear—or enforce discipline—among the students.

She approached the boy who was writhing on the floor and examined his hand more closely.

The injury was a severe magical burn.

Large fluid-filled blisters covered the surface. Some had already burst, causing even more pain and leaving craters that would be difficult to heal without leaving scars.

Elowen, the boy’s sister, who had been knocked to the ground by Crimson Death, glared at Seraphine and Ruby with intense hatred, even though the two of them had initiated the attack.

Rosencrown crouched down, intending to assess the severity of the boy’s injury.

"Professor Thorne, please take young Lord Valerian to the infirmary. His injuries are not extremely serious, but he may be left with scars if he is not treated quickly enough."

The professor, who had been standing just outside the refectory doors after hearing the commotion, promptly stepped forward to take the boy to the infirmary.

Before leaving, however, he traced a few signs with his fingertips.

A blue-green magic circle appeared between them, and from its center emerged a bright green, water-like sphere.

He used it to envelop the boy’s hand before exiting the refectory with him, which seemed to ease the young man’s pain.

"Now, please explain the cause of this disturbance," the headmistress said, although she already had her suspicions upon noticing the mocking smile of Worm perched over Seraphine’s shoulders.

"That despicable rabble dared to injure my brother, dared to knock me to the ground in this filthy hall! They are traitors! We are the Emperor’s nephews! How dare they even lay a finger on us?!"

Seraphine tried to interrupt her, but the headmistress wished to hear Elowen’s full account.

"I see. Now, Miss Seraphine, Miss Ruby, tell me your version of events. And you…"

She turned her gaze toward the other students.

"Return to your dormitories. This situation is already serious enough without interference."

"Ma’am—" Seraphine began, but Elowen cut her off.

"Versions? What do you mean, versions?! I demand that these girls be expelled and that their pacts be broken!"

"Demand?"

Rosencrown turned her gaze toward Elowen.

Emerald’s hair once again took the shape of large green thorns.

"Miss Elowen, you demand nothing here. My authority within these walls is absolute, sanctioned by the Emperor himself when he placed me at the head of this institute."

Elowen tried to argue, but Rosencrown did not give her the chance.

"I find it unlikely that an unprovoked attack would come from two girls who, in five years at this institute, have never committed anything of the sort."

"You, Miss Elowen, and your brother Valerian, on the other hand, already have prior records very similar to this incident."

Rosencrown fixed her gaze on the girl with such an inquisitive intensity that even the two who were not the direct target felt intimidated.

"I am granting you the benefit of the doubt by hearing both sides, given that you are one of the top students of the year and a member of an important family."

"But never again say that you demand something of me."

"Do well to remember your position here, just as I remember mine."

Elowen bit hard into the corner of her lower lip.

Being reprimanded was bad enough.

Being reprimanded in front of two non-nobles was humiliating.

"So you’re really going to deny the obvious? My brother is injured, I was on the ground—"

"Miss Joanne," Rosencrown interrupted, "would you mind telling me exactly what happened here?"

"Perhaps a neutral witness will be more effective than hearing only the three young ladies."

One of the women who worked in the refectory stepped forward and recounted the incident in detail.

Elowen’s anger only intensified when she realized that, in addition to the girls, a servant had contradicted her as well.

"So it was not an unprovoked attack, as I suspected," the headmistress said.

"However, you two," she pointed at Seraphine and Ruby, "are not free of blame."

"Even when provoked, controlling your spirits is still your responsibility."

"You will serve detention tomorrow night."

The girls seemed to find the punishment fair.

"As for you, Miss Elowen, you will remain at the infirmary until your brother recovers."

"After that, both of you will serve detention here in the refectory."

"You lack the humility and character of a true Imperial mage."

"I hope that serving the rest of the school for a week will help you understand that nobility does not mean merely being born into an important family."

Elowen was stunned.

Never in her life had she imagined being forced to serve anyone else.

But there was no argument that could save her and her brother from this situation.

Rosencrown had not lied.

She was the absolute authority of the institute.

"You two," the headmistress said, turning to Seraphine and Ruby, "return to your dormitory for today."

"And try to discipline your spirits better next time."

"It would be best if there is no next time."

Even though Rosencrown feared Worm deep down, she maintained her impartiality.

The institute was far too important to her.

Elowen left first, seething with fury.

Seraphine and Ruby followed, departing after offering a respectful bow.

Crimson Death remained perched on his mistress’s shoulders.

Worm attempted to follow Seraphine, but the headmistress stopped him.

"Was there truly no other way? Was it really necessary to mutilate the boy’s hand?"

Worm smiled mockingly and leaned close to the woman’s face, low enough that none of the girls could hear.

"You know, Octavia… the nobles of your empire lack discipline."

"A discipline that can only be achieved through fear and scars."

"Not through punishment and public shame."

He left the hall and followed Seraphine.

Rosencrown could still see the mocking smile he cast back at her from the far end of the corridor.

The headmistress sat down on one of the refectory chairs, looking more exhausted with each passing day.

This contrasted sharply with the growing look of hatred on Emerald’s face, which had only intensified after Worm’s visit to the headmistress’s office.

Still, like Rosencrown and Worm, she knew how to act when the right audience was watching.

"I suppose I should consider this a victory, right, Emerald?"

"From what little I saw of that thing, it could have been far worse than a few burns on the hand."

Rosencrown massaged her temples, trying to relieve some of her stress.

"Honestly, I don’t know which path to take to keep this institute safe until the Lady of the Forest is ready."

"And in the gods’ name… what will happen when he participates in the tournament at the end of the year?"

Emerald’s hair finally returned to the shape of loose strands.

"Octavia," the dryad said, "all we can do now is wait and place our faith in you."

And so days passed.

Followed by weeks.

And then months.

Contrary to what many expected, it was Ruby and Crimson Death who became the most popular master–spirit pair in the institute during that period.

Perhaps it was his dignified dragonlike appearance.

Or his increasingly evident power.

Crimson Death became a symbol among students from lesser noble houses and non-nobles.

Worm, on the other hand, despite being the most powerful spirit, was too anomalous and too dark to inspire sympathy.

The fact that he and Seraphine had become direct targets of the Velmora siblings after the refectory incident only worsened the situation.

The siblings severed ties with the rest of the Eight Prodigies and formed a group known as the Imperial Scar.

The name was chosen after the scars on Valerian’s hand.

Although he had fully recovered the use of it, its appearance remained grotesque even after several sessions of healing magic.

They believed Seraphine’s spirit had interfered in some way.

The Imperial Scar was composed exclusively of nobles from old and influential houses, both inside and outside the institute.

No nobles from new or lesser houses were accepted.

Rosencrown watched, nearly powerless, as chaos began to take hold of her institute.

The feeling that Worm was the catalyst for everything never left her.

Day after day, her hope for any action from the Lady of the Forest faded.

Months passed without a single sign.

Then, at last, the moment arrived.

The fifth-year students would face one another in a tournament held at the Imperial Arena.

It would mark the end of the academic year.

Divided as never before.

Rosencrown feared what that tournament might become if it spiraled out of control.

She feared what might happen if Worm lost control.

Rosencrown feared.