The days passed by swiftly, each one blending into the next as I walked through the academy, my thoughts constantly preoccupied with the events unfolding around me. I couldn’t help but notice how quickly the atmosphere was changing—how the students were growing more focused on their ambitions, and how the different houses were steadily becoming more entrenched in their roles within the academy’s politics.

  It wasn’t just about teaching anymore. I was starting to realize that my presence in this world—this academy—wasn’t just a coincidence. It would have consequences far beyond what I had initially anticipated. I wasn’t here by some stroke of fate or some greater purpose—I had chosen to be here. But now, I was realizing the gravity of that choice.

  I couldn’t afford to sit idly by as the other houses moved forward. The Silver Fenrir, Golden Foxes, Azure Dragons, and Crimson Phoenix were already progressing, their paths laid out before them. Students were forming bonds, forging alliances, and cultivating rivalries. Meanwhile, I stood at the fringes of it all, still unsure about the house I had chosen—or rather, the one I had yet to choose. My decision to remain outside the established structures of the academy, to forge something new, felt both liberating and terrifying.

  What was I even doing here? I’d been so focused on my goal to change the course of the game that I hadn’t fully allowed myself to consider the weight of the decisions that were now resting squarely on my shoulders.

  It wasn’t just about making a new house anymore. It was about deciding what that house would stand for. About what kind of future it would create. About what it meant to truly break free of the chains that bound everyone else.

  The tension had become palpable in the last few weeks. Students seemed to be more on edge as they chose their allegiances, forming bonds with the others in their houses, securing their futures. Some of them already had their roles carved out for them, either by birthright or by the expectations placed on them by their families. But me? I had no ties to anything or anyone. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

  One evening, while walking through the courtyard, I came across a sight that made me pause. Instructor Arden stood at the edge of the training grounds, her back to me, eyes distant, and her body tense. She had been one of the standout students of the Azure Dragons, known for its strict adherence to tradition and discipline. Yet as I observed her now, something didn’t sit right with me. Arden had always been a natural leader, a strong-willed fighter, but she didn’t seem to fit the rigid mold that the Azure Dragons had crafted.

  I leaned against one of the stone columns, watching her from a distance. There was something in her posture—her fidgeting with the straps of her armor, the way she kept glancing back toward the training grounds as if debating whether or not to leave—that felt… off. Arden wasn’t the kind of person to hesitate, especially not when it came to something as important as this.

  I felt a sudden pang of understanding. It wasn’t just me who was struggling with the weight of this place. It wasn’t just me questioning my choices. Arden was torn too. She didn’t belong with the Azure Dragons any more than I belonged with the other houses, but she had her own reasons for staying. And I was starting to wonder if those reasons were enough to keep her there.

  Without saying a word, I pushed off the column and walked toward her. She didn’t turn around until I was almost upon her, and when she did, I noticed something strange in her eyes—was it surprise? Or maybe just a deep well of confusion? It was hard to say, but it was there, flickering beneath the surface.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Instructor Regalia," she said, her voice soft but firm, as though she had been expecting this conversation for some time. "What’s on your mind?"

  I regarded her carefully, taking in the weariness in her eyes. I had seen that same look in myself countless times before—the exhaustion of constantly carrying the weight of decisions that weren’t entirely your own. I didn’t rush to answer; instead, I studied her, knowing there was something here I had yet to uncover.

  "I’ve been watching you," I said, my voice steady but not without a hint of something else—something more vulnerable that I couldn’t quite explain. "I’ve seen how you interact with the other students, how you engage with the Azure Dragons. It’s clear that you don’t fit in with them, not the way they expect you to. You’re too independent for them. Too free-spirited. You’ve never truly belonged."

  Her eyes flashed, a spark of defensiveness and maybe even anger flaring up in them. "What do you mean by that?" she demanded. Her voice was quiet but sharp, as though she was trying to mask her emotions beneath a layer of cold discipline.

  I allowed myself a small, knowing smile, one that didn’t mock her but acknowledged the truth. "I mean that you don’t belong to their traditions, their way of thinking. You don’t fit the mold they’ve set for you. You’ve been following their path, but deep down, you’ve always known it’s not right for you."

  She didn’t respond right away, and for a few long moments, we simply stood there, each of us weighing the unspoken words between us. Finally, she exhaled sharply, her gaze dropping to the ground.

  "I’ve tried to fit in," she said quietly, almost to herself. "I’ve tried to do what they expect of me, what everyone expects of me. But I don’t know if I can keep pretending."

  I stepped closer to her, my tone firm, though not unkind. "Then don’t pretend. You don’t have to follow their rules or anyone else’s. You have a choice. You’ve always had a choice."

  Her brow furrowed slightly, confusion flashing across her face. "A choice? What do you mean?"

  I took another step forward, this time placing my hand on the hilt of my sword. I could feel the weight of the words I was about to speak, the weight of everything I had been holding back. "I’m offering you another path, Arden. A path where you don’t have to live up to their expectations, where you don’t have to fight for a cause that doesn’t resonate with you. There’s a new house, one where you can forge your own destiny. No alliances, no ancient traditions weighing you down. Just you, free to make your own decisions."

  She stared at me for a long while, her eyes searching my face for any sign that I was lying. But I was telling the truth, as much as I knew it myself. There was a freedom in choosing your own path, a power that came with not being tied to anyone else’s agenda. She could have that, if she chose it.

  "A new house?" she whispered, almost incredulously. "Are you really suggesting we break away from everything we know and start something completely new?"

  "Yes," I said firmly. "I’m suggesting that you choose a different future. One that isn’t defined by anyone but you."

  She hesitated, and I saw the internal battle playing out on her face. She wanted to believe it, wanted to believe that something different was possible, but the chains of tradition, of expectations, were heavy. And for someone like her, who had spent so long trying to fit into the rigid structure of the Azure Dragons, the idea of breaking free was both exhilarating and terrifying.

  "I don’t know if I’m ready for something like that," she admitted quietly, the words heavy with uncertainty. "But… it’s something to think about."

  I nodded, understanding. "Take your time. This isn’t something to rush into. But just know that the choice is yours. You don’t have to follow anyone else’s path."

  She stood in silence for a moment, and I could see the wheels turning in her mind, her gaze distant as if she were already imagining what a future outside of the Azure Dragons could look like. Finally, she spoke again, her voice soft but with a newfound sense of resolve.

  "I’ll think about it, Instructor Regalia. But I don’t know where this path will lead me."

  With that, she turned and walked away, her boots clicking softly against the cobblestones as she disappeared into the twilight. I stood there for a while longer, watching her retreating figure, the weight of our conversation lingering in the air. I didn’t know what she would choose in the end, but for the first time, she had seen another possibility—another way forward.

  And that was all I needed to know.