The halls of the Academy buzzed with life, yet every glance thrown in my direction felt like a dagger. Whispers followed me wherever I went, each one sharper than the last.

"Look at him, still pretending to belong."

"The emperor’s pet, strutting around like a hero."

"Did you see him fumble that barrier spell yesterday? Pathetic."

I kept my head down, my hands clenched tightly by my sides. My steps echoed louder in my mind than they should have, the whispers drowning out any sense of calm I tried to muster. The Academy of Five Stars was supposed to be a place of learning and growth, but for me, it had become a crucible of constant scrutiny and relentless judgment.

It wasn’t just the whispers. The stares, the mocking laughter during practice sessions, and the constant pressure gnawed at me like a relentless storm. Every small mistake seemed amplified, each misstep another reason for my peers to look down on me.

"Did you hear what Korin said about him?" one student muttered as I passed.

"Yeah, apparently even with that fancy sword, he’s barely holding his own," another replied, their voice dripping with derision.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. I wanted to shout, to fight back, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I pushed forward, focusing on my steps as though they were the only thing tethering me to reality.

The sparring session that day was no different. Korin Valther, ever the opportunist, found ways to humiliate me without breaking the rules. His blade was fast and precise, each strike a calculated move to undermine my confidence.

"Careful now, Shin," he sneered after knocking Eclipsion out of my hands. "Wouldn’t want Daddy to hear you couldn’t hold onto his precious sword."

The laughter around us was like a wave, crashing over me. I retrieved Eclipsion, my grip tighter this time, but my movements were stiff, my focus fractured. Every time Korin struck, it felt like another piece of my resolve crumbled.

Lady Althea observed from the sidelines, her gaze steady. She didn’t intervene, but her presence was a reminder that someone believed in me, even if I couldn’t see it in myself.

That evening, I found myself back in the secluded training grounds, swinging Eclipsion at invisible enemies. My strikes were wild, driven by frustration rather than skill. The memories of Korin’s taunts replayed in my mind, fueling my anger.

"You’re letting them control you," Lady’s voice broke through the haze. She stood at the edge of the clearing, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

I lowered Eclipsion, my breaths ragged. "What am I supposed to do? They treat me like I’m nothing."

She stepped closer, her tone soft but firm. "And if you let their words dictate your actions, you prove them right. You have nothing to prove to them, Shin. Your worth isn’t defined by their approval."

Her words stung, not because they were harsh, but because they were true. I looked away, the weight of her gaze pressing down on me. "It’s hard," I admitted. "I feel like no matter what I do, it’s never enough."

Lady placed a hand on my shoulder, her grip steady. "Strength isn’t just in your magic or your sword. It’s in your ability to endure, to rise above. Prove them wrong, not out of anger, but because you know who you are."

Later that night, I found myself sitting with my parents in the emperor’s study. Papa’s presence filled the room, his sharp gaze fixed on me as I recounted the day’s events. Mama listened quietly, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression a mix of concern and understanding.

"They don’t see me," I said, my voice trembling. "To them, I’m just the emperor’s son. Nothing more."

Papa’s eyes softened, a rare moment of vulnerability breaking through his stoic demeanor. "Do you think I became who I am by worrying about what others thought?" he asked. "You carry my name, yes. But your path is your own to carve. Don’t let their pettiness define you."

Mama reached over, placing a gentle hand on mine. "We see you, Shin. And we’re proud of you. Always."

Their words were like a balm, soothing the raw edges of my frustration. I nodded, a small spark of determination reigniting within me.

As the days passed, a new tension began to ripple through the Academy. Whispers of an upcoming exam filled the hallways, each rumor more unsettling than the last.

"They say it’s unlike anything they’ve done before."

"I heard the exam’s been modified—more dangerous this year."

"Dangerous? Please, they’re just trying to weed out the weak."

The weight of the rumors settled heavily on me. In the library, I overheard a group of senior students huddled together, their voices low but urgent.

"It’s not just about passing," one of them said, his tone grave. "The professors are looking for something specific this time."

"What happens if we fail?" another asked, her voice tinged with fear.

"Failure isn’t an option," the first replied. "Not this year."

The uncertainty gnawed at me as I returned to the training grounds. The whispers were like shadows, impossible to escape. What were they looking for? What would this exam reveal? My thoughts churned as I swung Eclipsion, each strike a futile attempt to silence the doubts that clung to me.

That night, as I sat by my window, the glow of the Academy’s wards casting faint patterns on the floor, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming. The whispers, the stares, the relentless pressure—they were all building toward something. Whatever the exam held, I knew it would be a test of more than just my magic.

For the first time in a long while, I allowed myself a small smile. I wasn’t just fighting for their approval anymore. I was fighting for me.

"Let them underestimate me," I whispered to the night. "I’ll show them who I am."