The old man could still recall the scene from a year ago.

At that time, just like at the beginning of this semester, he stood in the office of the great clock tower, gazing out at the students full of youthful vigor entering through the academy gates.

He had held a hint of expectation in his heart, because he knew the heir of the Campbell family would be among them. What he hoped to see was a young man as dazzling as that Lion King, once again shining within this academy.

So—

When that blond boy stepped down from the griffin-drawn carriage, surrounded by a group of maids, and entered his field of vision—

He felt a profound sense of disappointment.

Because with just one glance, he could see what kind of person that boy was.

Just like the noble sons this academy never lacked: arrogant, conceited, nose held high, reeking of the stench of money, draped in the pretentiousness unique to aristocracy.

Only his head—was empty.

Later, that young master of the Campbell family proved him right through his actions.

If one were to summarize in four words, they would be: hopeless beyond help.

He had already given up after attempts to correct the boy proved fruitless.

But he hadn’t expected...

Professor Prang glanced at the present-day Muen—

In the end, the one who misjudged... was himself.

...

“So my father was actually that amazing during his academy days?”

After hearing Professor Prang’s description of his father, Muen remarked with a bit of surprise.

He had truly thought, as the rumors said, that every generation of Campbells had been nothing but ultimate brutes.

“Bravery with strength is called valor. Bravery without strength—that’s what you call recklessness. And coincidentally, the Dukes of Campbell have never lacked strength.”

As if seeing through Muen’s thoughts, Professor Prang explained in a slow, steady tone.

“I see.” Muen scratched his head.

That’s true.

A man who could firmly sit in the Duke’s seat, have the emperor betroth his daughter to his son, and still command the frontier army to this day—how could he possibly be just some simple brute?

And yet...

Could such an outstanding man really have been so blinded by love that he raised his own son into a useless mess?

Parents... what a complicated thing.

Muen couldn’t help but sigh.

“So then, Professor Prang, the reason you hated me so much wasn’t just because I only learned one [Illumination Spell] last semester?”

Muen followed up.

Click.

The moment Muen finished speaking, he saw Professor Prang’s body suddenly stiffen.

“Of course not. How could I possibly hate you over something so trivial? I’ve long prepared myself for the Campbell family’s... magical aptitude.”

Professor Prang’s tone remained even, seemingly unshaken.

“Your exceptional father also only ever failed magic class, never once passing. The only proper spell he ever learned was one that made flowers bloom at will... and that was just to court your mother.”

“Really? So my father was a magic idiot too, hahahaha...”

“But even so, it only took him two weeks to learn the [Illumination Spell].”

Professor Prang turned around, expressionless, his tone dark and quiet.

Only, if you looked closely, the five fingers gripping his cane had left very clear indentations on the handle.

“For reference—I taught my family’s cat that same spell in three days.”

“...”

And you say you didn’t hate me?! It seriously feels like you’re just waiting for an excuse to beat me to death with that cane right now!

Muen felt like a giant red word DANGER was about to pop up above his head. He started contemplating what kind of posture would be most fitting for a Duke’s son to use when begging for mercy, in case Professor Prang really did decide to beat him to death on the spot.

“However... I admit it. You have changed, Muen Campbell.”

In the end, Professor Prang did nothing—only let out a long sigh and turned again, walking deeper down the corridor.

“If you were able to raise your [Magic Foundations Theory] score to this level within just one month, then I believe even the so-called curse of the Campbell family’s magical ineptitude... should be something you can break with ease. You might truly surpass your father—and become the most outstanding Duke Campbell in history.”

“That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

Muen was slightly embarrassed by Professor Prang’s sudden praise.

“Is it? Once, I could have said that with certainty. But ever since I witnessed your transformation, even I’ve begun to doubt these old, farsighted eyes of mine. However...” Professor Prang suddenly shifted his tone:

“I didn’t expect you, Muen Campbell, to make this decision.”

“Hmm?”

A question mark appeared over Muen’s head. He looked at Professor Prang’s back in confusion.

Then he realized—could Professor Prang be talking about... Instructor Meladomir?

“The path that Mentor Meladomir pursues... I don’t know all the details myself. But what I do know is that it’s no bright and smooth road. At the very least, for someone like you—Muen Campbell, a Duke’s son with limitless potential—it’s not a path worth choosing.”

Professor Prang continued:

“You could’ve had a better, more stable choice. If what you sought was power, the Campbell family’s inheritance is not weak. If you walked it step by step, steady and grounded—even if you still scored only three points in [Magic Foundations Theory], your cultivation as a Warrior would, without a doubt, break into the Crowned Tier. Becoming a [Crowned One] would’ve been inevitable.

Even if you dislike the title of ‘Campbell brute,’ as a Duke’s son, your resources and starting point far exceed that of ordinary people. If you simply applied the same drive and resilience you showed this past month, you could’ve walked a different path and still achieved great things in the future.

But you... seem to be in a great hurry. So much so, that it makes one curious...”

Professor Prang turned once more. [N O V E L I G H T] In his aged yet still piercing eyes was a trace of searching inquiry:

“As the heir of the Campbell family... the future cornerstone of the Empire... even the companion to that Princess—Muen Campbell, what is it exactly that you fear?”

“I...”

Faced with Professor Prang’s question, Muen opened his mouth—but said nothing.

What was he afraid of?

Wasn’t it obvious? Fate.

If he could avoid it, he wouldn’t be trying so desperately. He too wanted to walk steadily into a bright future. To marry the one he loved beneath ringing church bells and showers of rose petals.

He too wanted to be an ordinary, unremarkable Duke’s son. Wait until his father aged or retired, then inherit the Campbell legacy, and finish his life carrying the name of this legendary family.

He wanted to live.

He wanted happiness.

That’s all.

But—fate would not allow it.

Fate would not allow a yellow-haired villain like him to exist in the original trajectory of the story.

He was meant to die. Not just once, but again and again.

And what he faced was not something that the name Campbell could resolve.

That prophetic dream hovered like a blade at his throat, urging him forward.

So he could only take the path less traveled.

Even if that path too led into a fog-shrouded future—

He had to try.

He had to do everything he could—

To fight against fate.

“...It seems you’ve made your decision.”

Watching Muen—watching the blood and fire flowing in his eyes like molten lava—Professor Prang withdrew his gaze.

“In that case, I won’t question you further. Even as a teacher... in the end, the choice is yours alone.”

Professor Prang raised his hand and pressed it against a precise magical apparatus.

With the roar of metal, a massive gate that seemed to reach the heavens slowly opened before Muen.

Blinding light surged in from beyond the door, flooding the darkness where Muen stood. He squinted against it, unable to clearly make out the path ahead.

“Go.”

Professor Prang said:

“Instructor Meladomir is waiting for you, Muen Campbell.”