Chapter 8: The western academy

  The professors stepped closer, and Meliodas felt his nerves spike all at once. Their silence pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating, until the dwarf finally spoke.

  “Meliodas,” Bernard said, not with anger, but with unmistakable concern. “What we witnessed was… remarkable. But you must understand the danger you put yourself in.”

  Meliodas bowed immediately.

  “I’m sorry, Professor. I didn’t see another way.”

  He straightened just enough to meet his gaze.

  “But the decision was mine. Please don’t let my mistake affect Tyka.”

  “Mistake?” Adelion snapped. “Mistake?”

  His voice sharpened, cutting through the air. “That wasn’t misjudgment. It was recklessness, you forced yourself forward when your Straum was already depleted. Do you have any idea what the implications of Straum decay are?”

  Meliodas stiffened, his fists clenching at his sides.

  Tyka spoke up with a tone of curiosity. “Straum decay? What’s that?” he asked, genuinely curious.

  Then his expression hardened. “Does it even matter? He saved my life, Professor, both of our lives. He pushed forward when most people would’ve frozen or run. I call that guts. Isn’t that how we grow?”

  Adelion opened his mouth to scold him, but before he could Bernard raised a hand, cutting him off.

  “You are not wrong, Student Tyka,” Bernard said calmly. “What Meliodas did was admirable. Honorable, even.”

  Meliodas looked up in surprise.

  “The issue,” Bernard continued, his tone firm now, “is not why he acted, but how. Pushing yourself after fully depleting your Straum is extremely dangerous. At your level especially , decay sets in faster… and far more violently.”

  Bernard’s gaze settled on Meliodas. “Had we not intervened, the consequences would have been severe.”

  He paused, then added, “That said, what you did speaks highly of your character.”

  Adelion shook his head sharply. “Careful, Bernard. Don’t put foolish ideas into their heads. Yes, it was admirable, but it was also reckless. Incredibly so. I don’t believe Student Meliodas truly understands the danger he placed himself in.”

  Professor Adelion is right,” Meliodas said quietly. “I know little about decay. My father always avoided the topic, but he was firm about one thing: never push past your limits unless it’s life or death.”

  He hesitated, then added, “I believed this situation was exactly that. Weren’t we supposed to fight our way through the wild zone?”

  Bernard let out a laugh, the tension easing at last.

  “Foolish boy,” he said, shaking his head. “You were meant to navigate the zone, not wage war in it. Avoid conflict where possible, do you truly think we expect first-years to defeat monsters?”

  He paused, then added dryly, “Especially three of them.”

  Bernard studied Tyka for a moment, eyes lingering longer than necessary.

  “If I may ask,” he said slowly, “are you a chosen one, Student Tyka? Your strength is… admirable.”

  Tyka blinked. Then scratched the back of his head.

  “A chosen one?” he echoed. “What’s that?”

  Adelion froze.

  He stepped closer, eyes narrowing as he examined Tyka from head to toe, as if searching for something hidden beneath his skin. “Don’t scare me like that, Bernard,” he muttered. “We already have one this year.”

  Bernard shrugged. “It’s always a possibility.”

  A chosen one? Meliodas thought. He remembered his father mentioning them briefly once, long ago, but before he could focus on the memory or dig any deeper, Bernard clapped his hands once.

  “Enough chatter,” the professor said. “Let’s move before we discuss anything further.”

  He turned and began walking toward what looked like nothing more than a stretch of sun-worn stone, until Meliodas noticed the faint outline of an archway carved into the rock, sand-colored and perfectly camouflaged. He hadn’t seen it before; it demanded focus to even recognize it was there.

  “Follow us,” Bernard called, already moving. He passed through the archway and vanished from sight. Adelion followed without hesitation, also fading the moment he crossed.

  Tyka stared at the empty space, eyes wide. He slowly turned to Meliodas.

  “…What was that?”

  “I don’t know,” Meliodas said, swallowing, “but I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  “I’m not going first,” Tyka muttered.

  Meliodas laughed. “This is what scares you, Tyka? Seriously?”

  Tyka didn’t laugh back.

  The concern on his face made Meliodas hesitate for half a second, then he shook his head, stepped forward, and passed through the archway.

  As Meliodas stepped through the archway, the world seemed to thicken around him. For a brief, disorienting moment, it felt like walking through something slimy and dense, as if the air itself resisted his presence. He kept his eyes shut on instinct.

  Then the sensation passed.

  When he opened them, he froze.

  The two professors stood a short distance ahead, already waiting. Beyond them stretched a vast body of water calling it a lake felt wrong. It looked more like a quiet inland sea, its surface calm and wide.

  He looked out over the lake. Thick fog rolled across its surface, obscuring most of the view and swallowing the horizon. Meliodas couldn’t see very far, but for a fleeting moment, he could have sworn he glimpsed the vague outline of something massive rising beyond the mist, a pyramid-like shape, distant and indistinct. When he blinked, it was gone, leaving him unsure whether he had truly seen it at all.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The path beneath his feet was simple stone, bordered by a low railing that ran along the lake’s edge. A few benches sat nearby, plain and functional, and beyond them stood buildings of similar design, sturdy, practical, built to last rather than impress.

  Then realization struck.

  Where the wild zone had been moments ago, trees, tall grass, and lurking danger, there was now a faint, nearly invisible membrane stretching across the landscape. It shimmered softly where embedded lights traced its edge, revealing the illusion for what it was. Beyond it, the forest still existed, untouched and contained.

  Meliodas looked up at the sky out of instinct. It was perfectly clear, the sun shining bright overhead, yet the heat was gone. Gone was the harsh, punishing warmth of the wild zone. Here, the air was comfortable, carefully balanced.

  Squinting his eyes, Meliodas focused, and then he saw it.

  High above, barely visible against the blue sky, a faint membrane curved overhead, a vast, dome-like structure spanning as far as he could see. It enclosed the academy completely, he assumed.

  He gasped.

  “Rather neat, isn’t it?” Professor Bernard said casually. “An array. It doesn’t just protect the island from monsters, though it does that too, but regulates temperature, stabilizes the environment. Keeps everything… civilized.”

  “It’s a marvelous construct,” Adelion added, his voice filled with fascination. “One of the most complex arrays ever devised. It doesn’t simply deter monsters, its functions are far more-”

  “Yes, yes, we get it, Adelion,” Bernard cut in dryly. “It’s impressive. Now is not the time for a lecture.”

  Meliodas’ gaze drifted back to the faint membrane separating the wild zone from the academy grounds. Studying it more closely now, he noticed the resemblance, the way it shimmered, the subtle curve, the quiet pressure it exerted on the air. It reminded him of the dome overhead.

  “They serve a similar purpose, don’t they?” Meliodas asked, turning to Adelion. “The two arrays.”

  “Yes… and no,” Adelion replied, clearly intrigued. “What led you to that conclusion, Student Meliodas? Not many take an interest in array formations.”

  His sharp gaze flicked briefly toward Bernard.

  Meliodas hesitated, then answered honestly. “I’ve always liked arrays. I find them fascinating, the different ways Straum can be applied and what it can achieve when structured properly. Don’t you think so, Professor?”

  Adelion froze for a moment, then smiled, genuinely pleased. “It seems you’re more educated than I initially thought, Mister Meliodas. Very well. Let me explain the differences between the two array formations—”

  A loud retching noise cut him off.

  Tyka staggered out of the archway, hands braced on his knees as he vomited onto the stone path.

  “S-sorry,” he groaned, wiping his mouth. “I’m fine. I think.”

  Bernard sighed. “And that,” he muttered, “is why we don’t let first-years near archway portals unsupervised.”

  Meliodas let out a laugh. Adelion, noticeably more relaxed now, even allowed himself a small chuckle. Meliodas stepped over to Tyka and began patting him on the massive back as the half-giant continued to retch.

  After a few more heaves, and one last attempt to stand before hunching over again to expel the remnants of his previous meals, Tyka finally straightened, breathing heavily. He wiped his mouth and groaned.

  “Never again,” he said weakly. “I refuse to go through one of those portals ever again.”

  Bernard sighed, almost apologetically. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Student Tyka. Archway portals are quite common, even within the academy. What I can promise is that it gets easier with time eventually, you won’t feel anything at all.”

  “How can you be so sure, Professor?” Tyka asked, his voice wavering as he nearly doubled over again.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Adelion added dryly. “He speaks from experience.”

  Bernard shot Adelion a sideways look, a faint smirk tugging at his lips before he turned back to Tyka. “That’s enough chit-chat. Are you all right, Student Tyka?”

  Tyka took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah… I think I’m fine now.”

  “You might want to sit for a moment,” Bernard said, gesturing toward one of the few benches spaced along the path.

  As Tyka lumbered toward the bench, Meliodas felt his nervousness return.

  “You too, Student Meliodas,” Bernard said. “Professor Adelion and I have something to discuss.”

  Meliodas hesitated, then moved to sit beside Tyka, his thoughts racing.

  Bernard lowered his voice as they stepped a short distance away.

  “What do you think, Adelion? They certainly have what it takes to be part of the academy.”

  “They do,” Adelion replied after a moment. “Both show great potential. I’m especially curious about Meliodas—those orbs were a clever application of Straum, particularly given his capacity issues.”

  Bernard nodded. “He’s talented. Courageous. Intelligent. But reckless. As a matter of fact, both cadets share that flaw. Pushing oneself to save another is admirable, but dangerous, that kind of instinct can save many but also get someone killed.”

  He exhaled slowly. “I’m inclined to fail them. Any thoughts?”

  Adelion folded his arms. “You’ve said most of what’s on my mind. But you must also consider the nature of their exam. In the end, they did kill the monsters. Few of our new cadets could manage that, especially on their first real outing. What Meliodas attempted was foolish, yes, but the way they tore through those creatures was… impressive, especially that bird construct even I am confused at what that was.”

  Bernard hummed thoughtfully. “Mm. Quite right.”

  He straightened. “Good thing the final decision doesn’t rest with us.”

  Reaching into his pocket, Bernard withdrew a deep ocean-blue triangular crystal and activated it.

  “Headmaster,” he said evenly. “Can you hear me?”

  “Oh Bernard, what a pleasant surprise,” an old man’s voice came through the crystal.

  “Headmaster,” both professors said in unison.

  Adelion cleared his throat. “I am here as well, Headmaster. Bernard asked me to join him regarding our… two special-case students.”

  “Excellent,” the headmaster replied, amusement threading his voice. “A rather good choice, Bernard.”

  “Thank you, Headmaster,” Bernard said.

  Silence followed.

  After a moment, the old man spoke again. “What is the reason for your call, Bernard?”

  “As you may know, Headmaster,” Bernard began, “we supervised the two students’ entrance—”

  “Entrance exam?” the headmaster interrupted calmly. “What entrance exam?”

  Bernard and Adelion looked at each other, confused.

  That wasn’t an exam,” the headmaster continued. “It was a test, one suited for a proper Straum user, not a first-year academy student.

  A brief pause followed.

  “I would say the young students passed with excellent colors.”

  “Headmaster, if I may,” Adelion said. “Bernard and I agree with that assessment. The issue we encountered is—”

  “I know what troubles you, professors,” the headmaster cut in. “But let me ask you this: what would you have done in that situation? Run?”

  A soft chuckle followed.

  “I hardly think so.”

  Adelion hesitated. “You must understand, Headmaster. I may not fully grasp—”

  “You understand more than you believe. After all, you are nobility as well, Adelion,” the old man replied. “What you underestimate is how deep that boy’s expectations run. The eagerness to prove oneself, especially when one grows beneath long shadows.”

  “You mean Meliodas… Thalessa?” Bernard asked. “She’s a kind person. She wouldn’t place that burden on her little brother.”

  “It is not only Thalessa,” the headmaster said calmly. “Yes, she is one of the reasons. But there are others.”

  His tone hardened slightly.

  “Reasons I will not reveal. Out of respect, not only for Meliodas, but for Archypego himself. Especially that twin of his.”

  Bernard hesitated, then spoke again, curiosity edging into his voice.

  “What about Meliodas’ brother? I haven’t heard much about him.”

  There was a brief pause on the other end of the crystal.

  “It seems I’ve revealed too much already,” the headmaster said at last, his voice softer now. “Age does that, loosens the tongue when it should not.”

  The glow of the crystal dimmed slightly.

  “Why don’t you go and congratulate the students? Show them to their dorms. We can discuss this further in my office, professors.”

  “Very well, Headmaster,” Bernard and Adelion replied in unison.

  The crystal device went dark. Bernard lowered it, then turned and began walking back toward the waiting students.

  Meliodas couldn’t stay still. He rose from the bench and began pacing back and forth, fingers flexing at his sides.

  “Calm down, brother,” Tyka said, watching him. “I think we did well.”

  “We failed,” Meliodas replied immediately, stopping mid-step. “Our only task was to reach the archway and leave the zone. Not fight.”

  “That would’ve been the coward’s way,” Tyka shot back. “We did better than that, bro.”

  “You might think so,” Meliodas said quietly, tension creeping into his voice. “But if we don’t get into the academy… you can go back to your family and everything will be fine. I can’t. I have responsibilities. Expectations.”

  Tyka blinked, then scratched the back of his head.

  “That does sound stressful,” he admitted. “Yeah… you’re probably right. I can’t really understand that.”

  He paused, then smiled and pointed ahead.

  “But we don’t have to wonder anymore.”

  Meliodas followed his gaze.

  The professors were approaching.

  His pacing stopped instantly. His thoughts went silent, replaced by a single, heavy knot in his chest. When the two professors finally reached them, it was the elven one who spoke first.