Chapter 39: Raindrops and Chains of Fate
Rain fell in gentle sheets across the ruined landscape, pattering softly against scorched stone and shattered earth. Ash mingled with water, forming small rivulets that wove through cracks like veins in a dying beast. A thin mist hovered over the terrain—ghostly remnants of a battlefield that had, just yesterday, shaken the skies with lightning and fury.
Amid the ruin, a lone figure lay silent.
Lei Feng.
His body, once cloaked in a proud black jacket, now hung in tatters—shredded cloth clinging to sinewed flesh like stubborn shadows. His chest rose and fell in steady, quiet intervals, ribs visible beneath blood-streaked skin. Soot and dried gore covered him, but the rain, relentless yet soft, washed over him with a kind of quiet grace.
Lightning flashed across the horizon. Thunder followed, a low growl from the skies.
And still—he did not stir.
But beneath that calm exterior, he wasn't lost. He wasn't broken. The system had already healed his injuries, his body whole once more. He was merely resting—deep in a dreamless sleep where time held no meaning.
A spark pulsed within. Not of defiance, not of fury—but of presence. Of quiet, unyielding life.
For now… he slept.
---
Miles away, far from the Whispering Hollow, atop a mist-veiled mountain plateau stood Edenheart Academy—its towers piercing the clouds like spears of arcane design. Veins of glowing elemental energy spiraled through its stone architecture, dancing along spires like living circuits. Floating platforms drifted effortlessly between buildings, ferrying students across the great aerial campus. Above all, a translucent dome shimmered faintly, shielding the grounds from the storm.
Within, the academy pulsed with life. Humans, beastkin, and elves moved in steady streams. Sapphire-robed first-year students walked the stone pathways, some chatting, some boasting, most wearing their awakened class like crests of identity.
A swordsman passed, his gleaming blade sheathed at his hip, the grip bound in red cloth—a tribute to a fallen mentor. Behind him, a spearman moved with casual strength, his long shaft strapped across his back. Archers bore silver-fletched arrows and eyes sharp as flint. Mages cradled staffs adorned with glowing cores, each humming with their wielder's unique elemental signature.
Their class wasn't just their strength.
It was who they were.
But in Classroom A-3, home to the academy's elite mages, the chatter died the moment she entered.
Among rows of sapphire-clad students, one figure stood apart.
She walked with unhurried grace, not a strand of raven-black hair out of place. Emerald eyes shimmered beneath long lashes—calm, still, but impossibly deep. She wore the first-year uniform like royalty wore silk—silver trim shining against deep blue. On her left breast gleamed the sigil of the Ling Family: a coiling dragon clutching five interconnected rings.
No weapon adorned her. No staff. No ornament.
And yet—all eyes followed her.
She wasn't the loudest, nor the tallest, nor the most imposing.
But she was Ling Mei.
She moved to the center of the hall and sat, each step echoing a quiet power. Around her, five seats remained conspicuously empty.
No one dared sit beside her.
Not out of fear.
But reverence.
> "Did you hear?" someone whispered.
"She's Level 20 already. Magic Adept."
"At sixteen? That's... insane."
"She's not normal."
"She's a Ling," someone said with awe.
"She's beautiful, too," a boy murmured near the back.
"Oh please," his friend snorted. "She wouldn't notice you even if you were on fire."
Laughter rippled briefly. But beneath it lingered awe.
Ling Mei was a storm beneath still waters.
A sharp cough interrupted the murmurs.
Instructor Hale stood at the front—a chubby man in his late forties, glasses perched on his nose, his tunic bulging slightly over his belt. He adjusted his spectacles and smiled.
> "Thank you for joining us today, Miss Ling."
Ling Mei offered a slight nod. Her voice remained silent.
> "Well then," Hale said, turning toward the crystal-board behind him. "Let's resume—Elemental Convergence Theory, and its application in arcane constructs."
Scrolls unfurled. Pens scratched.
But Ling Mei barely listened.
Her eyes drifted to the fog-streaked windows. Rain fell steadily beyond the dome. Thunder rolled, slow and distant, like the echo of something ancient.
Her thoughts returned to the Book of Aeromancy she'd studied the night before. It hadn't just taught her spells—it had changed her. Something inside had stirred. A wind beneath her skin. A whisper that didn't follow her will…
It guided it.
My magic… it doesn't obey. It whispers. It wants.
Beneath the desk, she flexed her fingers.
Air trembled.
It terrified her.
Maybe I should stop meditating on the Book of Aeromancy… and focus on my other skills, she thought, turning back to the lecture.
> "They look at me like I'm something else," she whispered.
Her gaze swept the room—eyes flicking away when they met hers. Respect. Distance. Longing. Envy.
But I didn't ask for this.
Her expression softened.
Only Brother Ling Chen ever treated me like I was just... Mei. But now… now he's Lei Feng. And he doesn't look at me the same.
Her jaw tightened.
She looked to the empty seats around her.
The others—prodigies of the Big Five clans—they're not here. Probably training. Preparing.
> "For the Rising Star Tournament," she murmured.
I shouldn't have come today...
---
After Class
The sound of closing books and the shuffling of feet pulled her from her thoughts. Instructor Hale finished scribbling the final glyph on the crystal-board and turned to the class with a tired smile.
> "That's all for today. Practice those convergence formations in your various elements. And remember, don't try to force harmony—feel it."
Chairs scraped as students rose, chattering resuming in quiet bursts.
Ling Mei remained seated.
> "Miss Ling?" Instructor Hale's voice broke through the ambient noise.
She blinked, surprised.
> "Yes, Instructor?"
> "You seemed a bit distant today," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "Is something troubling you?"
Ling Mei stood and bowed lightly.
> "Forgive me, Instructor. I was thinking about a technique I've been meditating on."
He smiled knowingly.
> "I imagine it's a powerful one. But even prodigies need rest—and pay attention."
> "I understand," she replied.
She hesitated, then added:
> "I won't be attending classes for a while. I intend to go training in the wilderness until the tournament."
Hale nodded, unsurprised.
> "Your peers have done the same. I'll inform Headmistress Elara. Take care of yourself, Miss Ling."
> "Thank you."
---
Outside – Eastern Platform
The rain was heavier here, outside the dome. She stood alone on the eastern hover platform, wind teasing the hem of her uniform. Her long hair, tied high, clung to her shoulders. Water pooled beneath her boots, mirroring the towers in a fractured shimmer.
Her phone screen buzzed.
One message.
> Eira: I'm on my way.
Her lips lifted faintly.
A low hum pierced the rain.
Descending from the clouds came a sleek black vehicle, its body etched with shifting silver runes—fluid, alive. It made no noise. No smoke. Just the elegant fall of the Rexora V-9, peak of magical engineering.
The side slid open.
Eira stepped out. Her black coat shimmered gold at the trim, umbrella in hand, her golden eyes sharp—but familiar.
> "Here, Mei," she said softly, handing over the umbrella like an older sister bestowing a secret.
> "Thanks," Ling Mei said, accepting it.
Eira studied her for a moment, then looked away.
> "You're tense," Ling Mei said.
> "So are you."
Silence stretched.
> "Let's go," Eira said.
They entered the Rexora. The door closed with a quiet hiss.
It hovered into the horizon, gliding smoothly above the shimmering towers and ethereal buildings of Volaris City. Below, umbrellas bloomed like colorful mushrooms amidst a forest of figures—humans, elves, beastkin, and other minor races—all navigating the rainy maze of pedestrian lanes. The downpour blurred reflections across the gleaming roads, where sleek mana cars swerved gracefully, splashing through puddles and sending ripples through neon light.
Inside the hovercraft, Ling Mei sat in silence, her cheek resting lightly against the cold glass window. The vibrant city below pulsed with life, yet none of it reached her eyes. They were distant—watchful, yet elsewhere. Her thoughts curled in silence like smoke in the corners of her mind.
She glanced sideways at Eira, seated opposite her. The high elf's usual poised indifference remained—but beneath it, Ling Mei saw something... off. The way her fingers fidgeted lightly on her knee, the tightness around her jaw, the unusual stillness in her golden eyes.
She's hiding something, Ling Mei thought, unease curling in her chest like a thorned vine.
She tried to break the tension with a soft, teasing smile.
> "What's wrong, Sister Eira? You've been frowning since we left the Academy."
Eira's lips curled upward—but only slightly.
> "Why do you think something's wrong, Mei?"
Ling Mei tilted her head, her voice feather-light but firm.
> "Because I know you."
A pause.
Then Eira shook her head lightly and responded with a stern voice:
> "It's nothing."
> "Tell me," Ling Mei urged, her emerald eyes pleading. "Please."
Eira's hand clenched, the slightest creak of leather gloves audible beneath the hum of the engine.
> "I said it's nothing," she snapped, her voice sharper than intended.
Ling Mei flinched, the air between them turning brittle.
> "I… I understand."
The silence that followed was colder than the rain-slicked clouds outside.
Eira stared at the floor, guilt swimming behind her eyes. After a long breath, she whispered,
> "I'm sorry, Mei… It's just—this isn't easy."
Ling Mei sat straighter, her tone quiet but resolute.
> "If it concerns me, I have the right to know."
Eira sighed again, deeper this time, and the hovercraft slowed slightly, as if the vehicle itself braced for the truth.
> "I suppose you'd find out soon anyway," she muttered. Her gaze hardened. "The Ling Family Council… they've approved a marriage engagement between you and Masaru Genji."
For a heartbeat, the world stopped.
> "…What?!" Ling Mei's voice cracked like thunder, her body rising half from her seat. "Genji?! That vile, arrogant—"
She couldn't even finish. The name itself made her skin crawl.
> "I hate him!" she spat. "He's cruel, lewd, a walking disgrace! He humiliated Brother Ling Chen—he almost broke his spirit!"
Eira raised her hands gently.
> "I know. I hate him too. But… the family sees this as a political alliance. Madam Qingyao supports it. It's meant to unite the Ling Family and the Masaru Clan."
Ling Mei's fury faltered at the mention of that name.
> "…Mother?" Her voice was barely a whisper now.
Her knuckles whitened. Her whole body trembled—not from rage, but fear.
She feared her mother more than she did her father, the patriarch.
But then, something within her shifted.
Ling Mei clenched her fists. Her eyes no longer trembled.
They burned.
> "No," she said, low but firm. "I won't marry him."
Eira looked at her with a mix of pride and sorrow.
> "It won't be easy, Mei. I'm not a Ling by blood—I can't stop this. Not alone."
Ling Mei shook her head slowly, ember eyes glowing with defiance. "They think I'm a pawn. A prize. An object of trade. But I'm not."
Her voice thickened, trembling with emotion. "Everyone at school sees my status, my strength… they envy me but they don't see the chains behind the name. The burden I carry."
Tears threatened, but none fell.
She inhaled slowly. Deeply.
"No one decides my future but me."
Her thoughts turned to the Book of Aeromancy, the pages that had whispered of freedom, flight, and the dance of wind unshackled.
"Maybe…" she murmured under her breath.
"Maybe it's the key."
The hovercraft sped forward, cutting through mist and lightning, bound toward destinies yet to come.
Behind them, the city pulsed.
Ahead, the world waited.
And somewhere, still lying in a ruined land of scorched earth and rain-soaked silence…
Lei Feng dreamed.
Of chains,
Of skies,
Of storms yet to come.