SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant-Chapter 499: Return to the Academy

Trafalgar had already left Mayla’s house by the time morning opened fully over Velkaris. The streets were awake, though the city had not reached its full noise. A few shops were opening their shutters. Carriages rolled through the wider roads. Mana lamps still held a faint glow, pale against the growing daylight. He walked toward the station with his hands in his pockets, his mind already pulling itself away from war.

The academy would want answers. That much was obvious. The directors would call him in, and probably the other students whose families had been dragged into the conflict as well. Velkaris Academy had always been strict about that. Once students stepped inside its walls, they were not supposed to be handled like pieces moved around by their houses. If a war had reached them, the academy would address it properly. There would be explanations. Rules. A meeting, most likely.

That thought did not bother him.

In fact, after everything that had happened, it sounded close enough to peace.

’At least I’ll be able to rest for a while.’

His mouth almost curved at that, but only slightly.

’After the academy, though, it looks like I’ll have work waiting for me anyway. I still wonder what Dravok is making that he needs both Caelvyrn and Rhosyn for. It won’t be simple I imagine that, but he could stop acting interesting and just say it plainly.’

By the time he reached the station, the train had already arrived. Trafalgar stepped into the first carriage as always and took one of the usual seats without thinking about it. The ride lasted twenty minutes.

Routine had not changed.

He had.

When the train reached the academy station, he stepped down onto the platform and watched it continue on its way. The campus beyond was already alive. Hundreds of students moved through the morning paths and courtyards. Some carried books pressed against their sides. Others were out on the training fields with weapons already summoned, warming their bodies before class. Different races, different uniforms, different rhythms, all of it folding into the same familiar academy noise.

Trafalgar headed toward the dormitory building with the simple intention of going up to his room, leaving his things there, and moving on with the day. The path should have felt ordinary. It was the same route as always, the same academy grounds, the same mix of voices and footsteps spreading through the morning air. Even so, before long, something in it began to drag.

People were watching him.

That part was not new. Being a Morgain had always drawn attention. One of the Eight Great Families, strange rumors around his name, the usual curiosity that followed bloodlines powerful enough to shape half the continent. He had grown used to that kind of attention a long time ago.

This was different.

The students turning their heads now were not doing it because of his surname alone. They knew what had happened in the war, also about his talent. They knew he had stood in the middle of something far larger than academy gossip. The interest around him had changed shape.

A boy from first year started toward him from across the path, a summoned sword in hand. He noticed Trafalgar seeing him, hesitated, and quickly dismissed the weapon before getting any closer. That alone made Trafalgar slow to a stop. The boy was clearly working himself up to speak.

"You’re Trafalgar, right? Trafalgar du Morgain?"

Trafalgar gave a small nod. "Yes."

The student’s face lit up at once. "I heard about what you did in the war. It was incredible. Charging into that many Void Creatures like that, hundreds or maybe thousands, I keep imagining it. Could I shake your hand?"

For once, Trafalgar had no immediate answer. The request itself was harmless, but it struck him from such a strange angle that he stood there slightly off balance.

’Do I have admirers now?’

"...Sure," he said.

The boy clasped his hand with both of his, far more excited than the moment deserved. "Thanks. You probably don’t know me, but we’re in Eryndor’s class together. I just never really talked to you before. It’s good to finally meet you properly. You’re also different from the rumors."

Trafalgar glanced at him. "What rumors?"

The boy laughed awkwardly. "Don’t take it badly, but some people said you looked like a demon on the battlefield. Not demon bloodline demon. More like... something possessed. The kind you don’t want to see coming toward you."

Trafalgar pulled his hand back at last. "That sounds exaggerated."

"Maybe," the boy said, though he clearly did not believe it. "Anyway, I’ll see you in Eryndor’s class later. Sorry for stopping you. I just wanted to meet you once."

He hurried off with the kind of energy only first-years seemed able to keep that early in the morning, leaving Trafalgar where he stood.

For a few steps after that, the path somehow felt even worse.

Because now the others who had watched the exchange had seen enough to come to a dangerous conclusion.

He looked approachable.

That single exchange changed the mood around him faster than he liked.

The students who had only been watching from a distance had seen enough. Trafalgar had stopped. He had answered. He had even shaken the boy’s hand instead of brushing him off and walking away. That was all it took. Whatever image they had built around him, whatever distance they had assumed stood there by default, had just cracked open in front of them.

A girl was the next to try.

She stepped into his path carefully, as if she was not fully sure whether she was about to bother him or not. "Is it true?" she asked. "What people are saying about the war, I mean. That you really fought in the middle of all that?"

Trafalgar did not stop this time. "Some of it is true."

She matched his pace for two steps, curiosity pushing her forward. "Then that means—"

"I’m busy," he said, not harshly, but with enough weight behind it to make her slow down.

By the time she gave up, another student had already worked up the courage to come closer. A taller boy this time, carrying a book under one arm, the kind of person who looked more comfortable in a library than on a field. Even so, his expression held the same restless excitement.

"I just wanted to say it was incredible," he said. "What you did."

Trafalgar gave him a short nod. "Thank you."

The answer was polite and also meant to be final.

The boy understood it and stepped away, but that did not solve the real problem. A few more had begun to drift in his direction now, not fully approaching yet, though clearly thinking about it. One looked at him with open fascination. Another whispered something to his friend while glancing over again, as if he were less a student and more some figure pulled out of a story that had suddenly learned to walk across the academy grounds.

Trafalgar kept moving.

That was the part he understood quickly. None of them meant harm. None of this was hostility. If anything, that made it more tiring. He had just returned. He still had to reach his room, deal with the directors, and sit through whatever discussion the academy was preparing after the war. He had no energy left for strangers trying to satisfy their curiosity one question at a time.

So when the next two students started to angle toward him together, he cut them off before they could speak.

"Another time," he said.

His tone left no room to test that answer.

They stopped. Trafalgar used the opening immediately, lengthening his stride as he headed straight for the dormitory building. Only when he finally crossed through the entrance and the noise outside thinned behind stone walls did the pressure ease a little.

The quiet there felt almost absurdly valuable.

He kept walking toward his room and let out a slow breath.

’This is going to be long.’