Chapter 264: Surprise

Chapter 264: Chapter 264: SurpriseZafira brows knitting with mild worry as the distant muffled echo of raised voices slipped from the obsidian palace. Even here—on a floating island surrounded by gardens and fog—the tension was impossible to ignore.

"Well..." she murmured, brushing a hand through her hair, "I think I should go back to my family before my father walks out of the meeting. And I’m sure my mother is already wondering where I disappeared to. I left without saying anything—just told them I needed some air—and I’ve been gone for a while."

Trafalgar shifted his weight against the railing, hands buried in his pockets. "Alright. I’ll stay around here a bit longer. I don’t exactly feel like going back to mine."

Zafira smiled, small and understanding—the kind of smile someone only gives when they already know the answer. "I figured. Well, I guess I’ll see you at the academy, Trafalgar... or I hope so, unless they shut it down first."

He snorted lightly. "It shouldn’t close. So we’ll meet again soon."

"I’m glad." She took a step back, the fog curling around her legs like a soft violet veil. "Take care, and don’t get yourself into trouble here. There’s already enough tension between everyone without you adding fuel to the fire."

"I don’t plan on talking to anyone," he said. "You have my word."

"Good." She gave him a final nod—warm, genuine—and turned away.

Her footsteps were nearly soundless on the white stone path. The faint purple of her dress dissolved slowly into the fog, until even her outline melted into the floating gardens and lantern-lit walkways.

Trafalgar let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

’Good. Alone again. That actually helps,’ he thought as he leaned deeper into the railing, letting the cold wind wash over him. ’I already feel suffocated by the silence in this place.’

He glanced toward the central palace, tall and harsh against the sky. ’Last Council there were other families and famous merchants everywhere—noise, music, people showing off their power. And now it’s just the Eight Families. Two completely different worlds.’

A soft tremor ran through the island, a sign of the heavy mana accumulating inside the sealed chamber.

Trafalgar stared into the distance, where clouds drifted far below the floating island’s edge.

’I really hope nothing insane happens today and they settle this politically.’

He closed his eyes for a moment, steadying his thoughts.

’Yeah... hopefully.’

Trafalgar stayed at the railing for a long moment, letting the cold wind numb the edge of his thoughts. Eventually he pushed himself upright and lifted a hand.

A faint pulse of mana gathered at his palm.

The Shadowlink Echo materialized in a swirl of black mist, the small sphere hovering just above his hand.

"Alright..." he muttered under his breath. "Let’s see if Caelum’s still awake."

He poured a small thread of mana into the Echo to begin recording—


And someone spoke behind him.

"You really should be more careful about using that here, young master."

Trafalgar jumped so hard he nearly dropped the item.

"Son of a bi—!" He snapped his jaw shut before the last syllable escaped.

Caelum stood there, perfectly calm, as if appearing out of thin air was a normal greeting. His pale-gray hair was neatly combed, his black suit immaculate, his yellow eyes steady and unreadable.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Trafalgar hissed.

Caelum tilted his head. "If I wished to kill you, you would not have heard me arrive."

"...That doesn’t help."

"My apologies."

Trafalgar groaned under his breath. "Don’t sneak up on me like that. I was about to send you a message."

"I’m aware," Caelum said. "Which is why I intervened before you wasted mana."

Trafalgar looked at the orb in his hand—then let it desmaterialize, the ball dissolving into drifting motes of mana that vanished between his fingers.

"There. Happy?" he muttered.

Caelum nodded once. "Considerably."

Trafalgar crossed his arms. "So. Anything from the inside? Any news at all?"

"Plenty," Caelum replied. "I have clones stationed across the island, collecting information."

’Of course he does,’ Trafalgar thought dryly. ’Why wouldn’t he?’

Caelum continued, tone as level as ever. "If you wish, I can report everything I’ve gathered so far, Lord Trafalgar."

Trafalgar sighed. "Everything. Give me everything important."

Caelum paused.

"Lady Zafira is currently in the bathroom, she went there after she left you. Alfons au Vaelion is arguing with his elder brother—"

"Caelum," Trafalgar interrupted flatly.

"Yes?"

"I said important. Not the daily gossip roundup."

"...Understood." Caelum adjusted his gloves. "Then here is the essential information: there is an SSS-rank talent inside the chamber."

Trafalgar’s heart thudded once—hard.

’An SSS talent? Here? No one is supposed to know about me. And the others... they live isolated lives, independent of any house. So why the hell is one in that room?’

He swallowed. "What is someone like that doing here? And why are the Elders letting him stand beside the Eight?"

Caelum’s eyes narrowed slightly, the closest he ever showed to concern.

"That, young master... is what I intend to find out."

Trafalgar leaned back against the frosted railing, the cold seeping through his clothes—but his mind was racing too fast to feel it.

An SSS-rank talent... in the same room as the Eight Great Families.

Something that should never happen.

Caelum stepped beside him, hands clasped neatly behind his back, gaze drifting toward the palace where the Council was still in session. "From what I can gather, young master, his presence was not sanctioned by the Elders."

Trafalgar’s jaw tightened. "So he forced his way in?"

"Not quite." Caelum’s yellow eyes reflected the faint lantern-light. "The man stands with House Thal’Zar. And they are... using him. Or attempting to."

Trafalgar let out a dry, humorless breath. "Using? Someone with SSS talent? Yeah, right. That’s like trying to leash a natural disaster."

Caelum didn’t smile, but there was a faint shift in his tone. "I agree. Which is precisely why it concerns me."

Trafalgar dragged a hand through his hair.

’If another SSS talent is involved... this whole situation is ten times worse than I thought. People like us aren’t chess pieces. We’re like nukes. Well, I’m not yet, but I will be, or at least I hope to be in a few years..’

He forced himself to breathe slowly. "Tell me what you know. Everything."

Caelum nodded without hesitation. "To begin: his name is Icarus di Valtaron. A human—though his appearance is... distinctive. He favors purples and violets. And more importantly, he is one of the only five bearers of SSS-rank talent."

Trafalgar straightened, the image forming instantly in his mind.

Violet hair to his shoulders.

A maroon coat.

Lilac eyes—calm, heavy, ancient.

Yeah. He knew exactly who Caelum meant.

"...I saw someone like that a few days ago in Velkaris," Trafalgar muttered, brows knitting. "With a friend. Could that really be him?"

Caelum’s head snapped toward him, urgency cracking through his usually calm tone. "Young master—he saw you?"

Trafalgar exhaled sharply. "Yeah. I was with a classmate buying scrolls. He bumped into us. Looked at us. That was it."

Caelum’s jaw tightened. "I hope he didn’t detect your potential."

Trafalgar blinked. "That’s... possible?"

"Yes," Caelum replied, voice low. "Depending on an individual class, some individuals can perceive latent power. They can even glimpse fragments of another person’s system—especially those with SSS rank." His eyes narrowed. "And Icarus... is one of the strongest ever recorded. His disappearance a decade ago shook every major faction. No one knew where he went. No signs, no traces."

Trafalgar felt a chill crawl up his spine. ’A decade gone... and he shows up now? That’s not a coincidence.’

Caelum continued, "And now, suddenly—after ten silent years—he reappears standing behind the Thal’Zar patriarch inside the most important Council in centuries."

Trafalgar ran a hand down his face. "That’s... really fucking bad timing."

Caelum’s expression did not soften. "It is no coincidence at all, young master. Someone like him does not appear without purpose."

Trafalgar exhaled, the fog swirling around his breath. "And what does someone like him even want? A guy who can match a family head in raw power—maybe even beat one on a bad day? He can’t destroy an entire House alone... I think. So what’s his angle?"

Caelum shook his head. "I do not know, young master. But whatever it is... it will not be harmless." His eyes hardened, yellow irises gleaming in the dim light. "My role is to keep House Morgain aligned, untouched, and prepared. If his presence threatens that balance, I will intervene however necessary."

Trafalgar raised a brow. "’Intervene’? Against an SSS talent? Good luck."

Caelum didn’t smile. "I don’t need luck. I need information. And that is something I excel at."

He adjusted his gloves—a familiar gesture, precise and silent.

"Now, young master... it is time you return to your family. The Council session is nearly finished."

Trafalgar frowned. "You can’t at least tell me what’s going to happen?"

Caelum paused, then spoke with a cold, measured finality. "War. That is the decision reached. House Thal’Zar has chosen violence. Lord Valttair will inform you and the others shortly."

Trafalgar’s stomach dropped—not in fear, but in the grim understanding that the world had just shifted.

"Great," he muttered. "Exactly what we needed."

Caelum bowed his head slightly. "We will speak again soon. For now—return. And stay alert."

Without a single sound, not even the whisper of cloth, Caelum vanished—collapsing into a scatter of shadowed fragments that melted into the mist.

Trafalgar stood alone for a moment, silence thick around him, before he turned toward the central palace.

’War...’ he thought, jaw tightening as he began walking back. ’That means the entire world is about to get fucked—and I’m stuck right in the middle of the explosion zone.’

He shoved his hands into his pockets, boots echoing against the bridge as he approached the doors where the Morgains waited.

Whatever Valttair was about to say... it wouldn’t be good.

And Trafalgar would have to survive it—like everything else in this damn world.