Chapter 230: Ruins

The morning air inside the dormitory hall buzzed faintly with energy. Hundreds of first-year students filled the main lobby, their voices echoing between the marble walls and tall pillars.Trafalgar stood with his group near the back—Zafira beside him, arms crossed, while Barth, Cynthia, and Xavier tried to peek through the crowd. Everyone was waiting for the professors to announce who would be leading each expedition team for the visit to the Primordial Bloodline ruins.

Professor Rhaldrin stood near the front, barely reaching the waist of the other instructors, yet commanding absolute silence once he cleared his throat. His crimson eyes gleamed. "Students," he began, "today’s exploration will be divided into various research groups. Each of you will be assigned to one instructor."

One by one, the professors began reading the lists aloud. Every time a name was called, cheers and chatter rippled through the room. But when Rhaldrin announced, "Group Four—Professor Rhaldrin. Members include Zafira du Zar’khael, Trafalgar du Morgain, Xavier au Roquefort, Cynthia, Bartholomew —" the noise shifted.

Murmurs spread like a small storm.

"Wait, both heirs from the Great Families?"

"That’s unfair, it’s favoritism!"

"Of course they get the famous professor..."

Barth’s ears flushed pink, though his eyes lit up. "W-we got Professor Rhaldrin!" he whispered excitedly. "He’s the best historian in the academy!"

Trafalgar only smirked faintly. ’Favoritism, huh? Maybe. But not for the reason they think. Rhaldrin doesn’t care about our families—he just wants Barth for his obsession with history.’

Beside him, Zafira raised an eyebrow, her tone calm but sharp. "They’re making quite a fuss for something so trivial."

Xavier chuckled. "Let them talk."

The crowd began to settle again when a familiar voice spoke from the balcony above. Lyren di Myrrhvale stepped forward. Lyren rested his hands calmly on the railing of the upper balcony, his tone firm yet smooth as his voice echoed through the hall.

"Good morning, students. I see everyone’s eager," he began, a faint smile crossing his face. "Before we depart, I’ll explain a few rules regarding the ruins."

The chatter died completely. Hundreds of eyes turned toward him. Even from below, the faint shimmer of scales along his neck caught the blue light—an unmistakable trait of the Myrrhvale lineage.

"As you all know," Lyren continued, "the ruins of the Primordial Bloodline are sacred remains discovered only a few months ago. Our scholars believe they date back to an age before the founding of any current nation. Because of this, the area has restricted access."

He gestured toward the professors lined along the floor. "You will not touch anything unless instructed. Do not leave your marked sectors, and under no circumstances approach the sealed chambers. They’re unstable and dangerous. I will not tolerate anyone putting themselves or others at risk."

A murmur of nervous agreement spread through the students. Trafalgar’s expression remained neutral as he folded his arms. ’These places that they don’t let us access make me feel curious...’

Lyren continued, "Each group will be escorted by members of House Myrrhvale to ensure safety. Follow their commands as you would your instructors’."

As he said that, several armored guards entered the hall. Trafalgar’s gaze shifted slightly when he recognized one of them: the same half-merman who had struck the little human girl yesterday.

Zafira noticed too; her jaw tensed, but she didn’t move. He gave her a quick, subtle glance — a silent reminder. ’Not our problem.’

Lyren’s sharp eyes swept over the crowd once more. "Prepare yourselves. We depart in twenty minutes. Let this be both a lesson and a privilege. The Primordials’ legacy is not to be taken lightly."

The next twenty minutes passed quickly. Students gathered in front of their assigned instructors, the sound of chatter and footsteps echoing through the hallways as the expedition began to move.

Professor Rhaldrin walked at the front of Group Four, his tiny stride surprisingly quick for someone half their size. Behind him, the group of twenty students followed in pairs — Trafalgar’s team naturally forming their own small cluster apart from the rest.

They exited the dormitory building and entered a wide passage that sloped downward beneath the city. The air grew cooler, faintly humid. A translucent corridor of reinforced mana-glass stretched before them, illuminated by veins of blue light running through the walls. Beyond it, the dark expanse of the ocean pressed against the barrier — vast, endless, alive.

Cynthia’s eyes darted to the left, watching as enormous shadows moved lazily in the water. "That’s... a big fish," she muttered.

Xavier smirked. "At least we’ll die with a good view if this thing breaks."

Barth chuckled nervously but then pointed at the faint runes pulsing along the glass. "This tunnel was made with the same structure as Lirantis’ main dome. It channels mana continuously to maintain pressure balance. If it ever fails, the water would—"

"Explode our lungs before we even realize it?" Trafalgar finished, his tone calm but faintly amused.

Barth blinked and nodded quickly. "Y-yes, that."

Zafira walked silently beside Trafalgar, her eyes tracing the rippling glow of the tunnel. "Hard to believe this was all built, I can’t imagine how they started." she said softly.

"Mana and time can build anything," Trafalgar replied. "Even something that shouldn’t exist."

The group continued in silence for a while, the sound of boots on glass echoing beneath the sea. Above them, schools of silver fish flickered past like living stars, guiding them deeper toward the abyss.

At the end of the passage, a massive black gate awaited. Rhaldrin stopped before it, raising his staff. "We’re here," he announced, his voice unusually reverent. "The entrance to the Ruins of the Primordials."

The gate rumbled open with a deep metallic groan. A breath of ancient air rushed past them — dry, cold, and heavy with mana. A dim blue light seeped from within, flickering across the tunnel walls like the pulse of a sleeping giant.

When the group stepped through, several students gasped aloud. The "ruins" weren’t built of stone or coral as they had imagined. Instead, they opened into an immense hall of smooth black metal that shimmered faintly under their mana lamps. Pillars curved in impossible spirals.

Rhaldrin adjusted his spectacles, voice full of restrained pride. "Magnificent, isn’t it? The architecture predates any recorded empire. Yet it responds to mana — almost as if it’s alive."

Even Trafalgar, who had seen more than most, felt a flicker of awe. The air thrummed softly, resonating deep in his chest like the hum of a great machine.

’This... this feels different,’ he thought.

Rhaldrin turned to address the students. "We’ll divide the expedition here. The north passage will be handled by Professor Rehn’s group. Ours will explore the southern wing. Remember — do not touch anything or enter sealed chambers."

The Myrrhvale guard, the same man who had struck the little girl, stepped forward in silence. His scaled arms crossed firmly as he took position beside Rhaldrin. Trafalgar’s eyes flicked toward him briefly but gave no reaction.

As they began down the southern corridor, the glow around them intensified. The deeper they went, the stronger the hum became. And then Trafalgar felt it — a sharp pulse beneath his skin.

His breath hitched. The veins of his forearm burned as if liquid fire were coursing through them.

’What—?’

He glanced down and saw faint traces of light weaving through his tattoo — the same ancient mark that no one else could decipher. It flickered once, reacting to the energy in the ruins, then dimmed again.

Zafira noticed his brief pause. "Something wrong?"

Trafalgar forced a small smirk. "No. Just... felt something strange. Maybe it’s the mana density."

Rhaldrin’s voice echoed from ahead. "Keep close! These halls extend for miles — it’s easy to get lost."

The group pressed onward, unaware of the silent tremor still coursing through Trafalgar’s arm.

Deep within the ruins, something had recognized him.