Chapter 3: Expelled

Rael walked the long roads back toward the Blackthorn mansion with his thoughts finally settling into something colder and clearer. The breakdown in the empty auditorium had burned itself out. What remained was a practical question that refused to leave him alone. What could he do now?

He could not become an awakener. The stone had made that final. Without a class he would never pass through the gates of the Dream Realm. He could not work as a trainer either. Training required power of one’s own, or at least the ability to sense and guide mana, he can work on research and development but even that pays less. Every option he can either do is less pay and what he can’t do has more money. His memory was still sharp. That much had not changed. He could recall every statute, every case summary, every procedural detail he had ever studied. Legal work for the family might have been possible in another life. But the Blackthorns already employed people with actual classes suited to those tasks. A classless genius would only be an inconvenience.

He kept walking. The decision formed slowly. He would live a meaningful life in the background. His siblings would take the leading roles. He could still advise them, still help the family from the shadows where no one expected power. It was not the future he had planned, but it was something. He would not simply disappear.

The mansion gates came into view under the layered lights of the capital. Rael slowed. Everything he owned sat in neat piles along the outer wall. Medals and awards from every academic year. Research books he had annotated in the margins. Clothes, personal devices, the small collection of study tools he had used since childhood. All of it dumped on the pavement like discarded trash. The heavy gates remained shut.

"What are my things doing outside?"

He stepped closer and called to the nearest guard. "Hey. Open the door."

The man did not move from his post. "Sorry, young master. His Highness ordered the gates to remain closed for the whole day."

Rael stared. "What? Do you know who I am? Open it at once."

"I’m sorry, young master. I can’t."

Anger rose fast. "Are you joking with me? Open the gates, bastard."

A second guard approached, one hand rubbing at his ear as if the volume alone had offended him. He looked straight into Rael’s eyes. "Who is shouting so much at the evening?" The man’s voice carried open contempt. "Hey, you classless trash. Show some respect for Master-level peoples."

Rael felt the words land like a physical blow. A guard. Speaking to him like that. "What?"

The second guard jerked his chin toward the piles of belongings. "Don’t you see? All your things have been thrown out. Pick them up and leave."

Understanding arrived in a single cold rush. He had been kicked out. One day earlier he had been the bright star of the family. Now the gates of his own home stayed closed against him. The shift was so complete it felt almost unreal.

"Bring someone important," Rael said. His voice stayed level only through force of will. "Bring your superior. I will talk with him."

The guard’s mouth twisted. "Get lost, trash. Don’t waste our time. You are no longer needed here."

Footsteps sounded behind the second man. Leon Greythrone, Rael’s step-uncle and the head of mansion security, stepped into view. He moved without hurry, reached out, and smacked the back of the guard’s head hard enough to make the man stagger. "Show some respect for the son of his highness of the house."

The guard dropped to his knees at once. "I’m sorry, sir."

Leon turned to Rael. His expression held no warmth and took out a paper and started reading it. "Rael his Highness has expelled you from the family. You will no longer be called Blackthorn. Effective immediately, leave the capital."

Rael stood frozen. The words registered, yet they refused to settle into sense. No longer a Blackthorn. Classless. The two facts pressed together until there was no room left for anything else.

Leon’s mouth curved into a small, satisfied smirk. "His Highness has transferred ten million credits to your account as compensation. He has also demoted your rank to ordinary citizen. Now please exit the capital city."

He said with seriousness. "An ordinary human cannot walk the streets of the capital."

He turned away without waiting for a reply. The kneeling guard remained on the ground, smiling now that his superior’s back was turned. Rael understood in that moment. The disrespect, the piles of belongings left outside, the open mockery—none of it had been accident. Leon had arranged the performance carefully he can’t directly trash talk with the heir of the family so he used the guard for that purpose.

Rael understood how pathetic he was behaving when he first saw his things outside he already knew what happened but still wanted to talk with someone from the family. The knowledge settled over him like a weight. He had stood at the pinnacle only hours earlier. Everyone had watched him with expectation. Now he was abandoned, clinging to the smallest remaining scraps of dignity while the people who once bowed to him treated him as refuse. The feeling was raw and humiliating and absolute.

He moved to the nearest pile and began sorting through it. One bag. That was all he would take. Clothes enough for a few days. His smartphone. A handful of personal jewelry pieces he could sell later if the credits ran thin. Ten million would not last forever in a world built for the powerful. Everything else—the medals, the annotated books, the careful records of a life that no longer existed—he left where it lay. He was adapting already. The sadness remained, heavy and real, but he was not a quitter. He would find another way to live.

Rael ordered a taxi through the public network. When the vehicle arrived he gave the destination without hesitation. Bloomingdale. The outskirts city beyond the capital’s formal boundaries. He climbed inside and the doors sealed. The cab pulled away from the curb.

High above, behind a reinforced window of the mansion, his mother watched the street. She was so powerful that she can hear every word that had been spoken at the gate. She placed one hand against the glass as the taxi’s lights moved down the long avenue. A single tear tracked down her cheek.

"Good luck, my sweet boy," she whispered.

Then she turned away and stopped watching.

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