Chapter 75 - - 75 - The Choosing Ceremony

Chapter 75: Chapter - 75 - The Choosing Ceremony

Lucien Vale had arrived.

"Forgive my lateness," he announced, his voice carrying throughout the chamber. "I was cultivating."

A pause. His lips curved into a smirk that sent ripples through the assembled disciples.

"And no, not the spiritual kind."

The moment his words left his lips, the room plunged into absolute silence. Even the soft crackling of the ceremonial torches seemed to hold its breath.

Bastian Nox, however, was never one to let silence remain unbroken.

"Do you think you are so special that we have to wait for you?" Bastian’s voice cut through the stillness, dripping with contempt.

Lucien heard him loud and clear. With measured, deliberate steps, he closed the distance between them until he stood directly before Bastian. His golden eyes held that same indifference, but now there was something else lurking beneath the surface—a cold promise. He locked his gaze onto Bastian’s, unblinking.

"Yeah, I’m special," Lucien said, his tone deceptively light. "What are you going to do about it? Do you want me to make another example of Sarric Mordric?"

The name hung in the air like a death knell.

Bastian had anger issues—everyone knew that. But he was also logical enough to recognize when a fight was worth picking and when it would only lead to his own grave. He had heard the whispers, the rumors, the horrifying details of Sarric Mordric’s brutal death in the Ancient Breach. His jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides, but his eyes dropped to the ground.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought," Lucien said, a trace of amusement coloring his voice.

Then, as quickly as his demeanor had turned cold, it shifted. He turned toward the instructors, and a warm, disarming smile spread across his face—the kind of smile that made others forget they had just witnessed something terrifying.

Nerissa Grim, the lead instructor, cleared her throat. Her expression remained as cold and unyielding as carved marble.

"Since Lucien Vale has arrived, it’s time to begin. All top ten disciples of the Astral Academy may now choose their instructor. However, an instructor can easily refuse you if they don’t wish to take you on. Given that you were all conversing among yourselves earlier, I assume you’ve already made your decisions."

She paused, letting her gaze sweep across the assembled disciples.

"Rank Ten Disciple Emeric—who is your chosen instructor?"

Emeric stepped forward, his posture respectful. "I choose Instructor Silas Quill. I believe his vast experience in the field would prove invaluable to my growth."

Nerissa nodded curtly. "Rank Nine Disciple Eliss Alde."

Eliss’s silver hair caught the torchlight as she inclined her head. "I choose Instructor Soren Spar. His expertise with ranged weaponry aligns perfectly with my interests."

"Rank Eight—Miss Cerys Crowe."

Cerys’s violet eyes gleamed with quiet determination. "I choose Instructor Silas Quill as well. I wish to learn magical arts that do not rely on weapons."

"Rank Seven—Miss Maren."

Maren’s voice was smooth, practiced, the voice of someone who understood the power of words. "I choose Instructor Velvet Wisp. I believe her mastery of rhetoric and political nuance is essential for my future aspirations."

"Rank Six—Bastian Nox."

Bastian lifted his head, fire still burning in his eyes despite his earlier humiliation. "I choose Instructor Velvet Wisp as well. Her knowledge of alchemy is unmatched. After witnessing how so many perished from mere poison, I wish to learn the art of potions—to understand what kills, so I may learn what saves."

"Rank Five—Miss Evelyn."

Evelyn stepped forward, her posture elegant and unwavering. Her voice carried a quiet conviction. "I choose you, Instructor Nerissa. I am proficient with the sword, and I wish to deepen my understanding of the blade. I also believe that Instructor Nerissa does not discriminate between noble and commoner—and that is the kind of mentor I seek."

A flicker of approval crossed Nerissa’s stony features. "I accept you, Evelyn. And you heard correctly—I care nothing for titles or bloodlines. Only skill and will matter here."

"Rank Four—Seraphina Thornveil."

Seraphina’s heart hammered in her chest as she stepped forward. She could feel Lucien’s gaze on her, and it took every ounce of her composure to keep her voice steady. "I choose you as well, Instructor Nerissa. Over the past few months, I have been learning more about myself—my limits, my potential. I wish for you to guide me on this path. Please accept my request."

Nerissa studied her for a long moment. "I accept you, Seraphina. But remember—I am not a soft instructor. I will push you to your breaking point and beyond. Be certain that this is what you want."

Seraphina nodded, her jaw set with determination.

"Rank Three—Roan."

Roan was a mountain of a man in his astral energy not physically, his presence imposing even when still. "I choose Silas Quill as well. His experience in warfare will help me refine my combat strategies and push my realm further."

"Rank Two—Miss Celbeth."

Celbeth’s smile was mischievous, her amber eyes glinting with barely concealed amusement. "I choose Instructor Soren Spar. Everyone’s giving reasons, so I suppose I’m obligated as well." She paused, tilting her head as though considering something deeply profound. "I think he’d be fun."

A few muffled chuckles rippled through the room.

"Rank One—Lucien Vale. Who do you choose?"

Lucien’s golden eyes swept across the four instructors, lingering for a moment on each. Then, his gaze settled on Velvet Wisp—her hair cascading like shadows, her dark lips curved in an enigmatic smile.

"I choose Miss Velvet Wisp," he announced.

"And your reason?" Nerissa pressed, her tone flat.

Lucien’s smile widened, and there was a teasing glint in his eyes. "Oh? I think I can focus more if I see her every day."

Velvet Wisp threw her head back and laughed—a rich, melodic sound that echoed through the hall. "Hahahah! So bold, Lucien Vale. I like it. I accept."

Celbeth was at Lucien’s side in an instant, her voice a warm whisper in his ear. "Hah, you really have good taste, Lucien." Her breath was warm against his skin. "And don’t worry—I’ll keep that Soren Spar wrapped around my finger. You just focus on Velvet."

Seraphina’s stomach twisted as she watched the exchange. Jealousy coiled in her chest like a serpent. It had been months since the Ancient Breach—months since Lucien had pulled her from the brink of death—and he hadn’t come to see her once. Not once.

She knew he had been busy. His name was on everyone’s lips, his deeds the subject of countless whispers. But still...

The ceremony concluded, and the disciples gathered for dinner—a celebratory feast to mark their formal admission into the Astral Academy. The hall was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the murmur of conversation. But Seraphina’s attention remained fixed on one person.

Lucien stood by the window, gazing out at the night sky, his profile illuminated by the pale glow of moonlight. He looked so calm, so distant—as though the chaos of the world couldn’t touch him.

Seraphina approached him, her heart racing. She stopped beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body.

"What did you mean by that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "That you can focus more on cultivation if she’s around?"

Lucien turned his head slightly, a hint of amusement in his golden eyes. "Well, she asked me for a reason. I didn’t think much of it."

"Still..." Seraphina’s voice wavered, vulnerability creeping into her tone. "I know I’m not your fiancée, but I felt jealous. And you haven’t come to see me once since the Ancient Breach."

When she spoke to others, Seraphina was cold as ice—unapproachable, untouchable. But with Lucien, she became someone else entirely. Vulnerable. Yearning. A damsel in distress who only let her walls fall for him.

"Did you miss me?" Lucien asked, his voice soft.

"Every day..." she admitted. "But I thought I wasn’t in your thoughts."

"If only you knew," Lucien murmured.

His hand found her waist, pulling her closer until she stood between him and the window. He positioned himself behind her, his chest against her back, his chin resting on her shoulder. His arms wrapped around her, holding her as though she were something precious.

"Sera..." His voice was a low whisper against her ear. "You still think you’re not special to me?"

Seraphina’s breath hitched. "Lucien... people are watching. What would they say?"

"Would you like me to stop?" he asked, his tone teasing but with an edge of sincerity.

"...No," she whispered, the word escaping before she could stop it.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through her.

"So," she said, trying to steady her voice, "what are you planning after the trial of imperial succession?"

"Tomorrow, I have to leave," Lucien replied.

"Where?" she asked, turning her head slightly to look at him.

"A cathedral," he said.

Seraphina’s brow furrowed. "Why? We’ve only just reunited after months apart."

Lucien leaned closer, his lips brushing against her ear. "It’s something related to my breakthrough."

Seraphina froze, her eyes widening. "You’re going for the heavenly tribulations trial?"

"Not yet," he said. "But soon."

Her heart plummeted. "It’s dangerous... isn’t it? Can’t we just stop now—"

"If I stopped," Lucien interrupted, his voice suddenly serious, "then someday, someone more powerful than me would come and take everything from me. I can’t have that." He paused, his grip on her tightening. "I would rather die than lose you."

Seraphina’s cheeks flushed crimson. Without thinking, she turned and captured his lips with hers—a desperate, passionate kiss that spoke of all the words she couldn’t say.

When they finally broke apart, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "I know my Lucien," she said softly. "He would never lose. But if anything ever happens to you, I’ll kill myself—"

Lucien pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. "I will never bring that day to you," he said, his voice fierce with conviction. "No one can stop me—not the human realm, not the heavenly realm, not even the gods themselves."

A heavy silence settled between them. Then, to lighten the mood, Lucien’s hand drifted to her belly, tracing the curve of it through her robes.

"Someone’s been cultivating their body quite diligently," he observed, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

Seraphina’s face turned scarlet. "W-what are you touching?! It’s become like this after that night—"

"Oh?" Lucien’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "What night, Sera?"

"You know exactly what night," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "Our first night in the forest... when we dual cultivated... you just want me to be embarrassed!"

"You look cute when you’re flustered," Lucien murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I love to tease you." He pulled back slightly, his eyes darkening with something deeper. "But if you look this good, how am I supposed to focus on cultivation?" He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear.

"Let me tell you a secret," he whispered. "I have a Yang physique. Dual cultivation with me will accelerate your cultivation."

Seraphina’s blush deepened impossibly further.

"So," Lucien continued, his voice dropping to a husky murmur, "Would you like to disappear right now and cultivate together?"

Seraphina let out a shaky sigh. "You know everything about me," she said, her voice trembling. "Yet you still want me. I’m still embarrassed, even though you’ve seen every part of me..."

She turned in his arms, pressing her lips to his ear. "Let’s go tonight," she whispered. "I’ll show you how strong I’ve become."

Lucien sat in a carriage beside Celbeth. The cathedral loomed ahead, grand and imposing against the horizon. But as the carriage rolled forward, something else caught his eye—a small, shabby church tucked away in the shadows of the grand structure. He dismissed it without a second thought, focusing his attention on the cathedral ahead.

Celbeth had become his right hand—his most trusted confidante. She accompanied him on every mission, whether it was wiping out enemies or tearing down those who opposed him or any dirty work. She understood his thinking, his ambitions, the lengths he was willing to go to achieve his goals.

"It seems we’ve arrived," Celbeth remarked, peering out the window. "Shame we can’t teleport to places we’ve never been."

Lucien nodded, his eyes fixed on the cathedral’s towering spires. "Let’s go see what this place is hiding."

As they stepped out of the carriage and approached the entrance, a nun in simple, worn robes stood waiting to greet them.

"Lord Lucien," the nun said, bowing respectfully. "The Archbishop is waiting for you."

Lucien exchanged a glance with Celbeth before following the nun inside, his golden eyes gleaming with quiet anticipation.