The royal wing of Drakoryth’s castle whispered with calm mountain wind and quiet power. The winter sun slanted through the high arched windows, casting long streaks of light across polished floors like dark glass.

Sylus Drakareth Vezmera moved through the hall with the absent grace of someone used to navigating both palaces and battlefields. His duffel hung off one shoulder—half-packed for his business trip—but he paused as he passed his father’s study.

The door was slightly open.

Odd.

King Thareon Drakareth never left his doors ajar. He never left himself open.

Sylus rapped once and stepped in. “Father?”

Thareon sat behind his desk, shoulders set, jaw locked, eyes narrowed at a thick scroll before him like it had just insulted his bloodline. He barely glanced up.

“You’re early.”

“You’re unsettled,” Sylus replied, stepping closer. “What is it?”

Thareon gestured at the document. “A dissolution of engagement. I’ve been asked to oversee it.”

Sylus arched a brow. “You? Personally? Isn’t that overkill?”

“That’s what I thought.” Thareon leaned back, arms crossed. “This didn’t require a king. Any noble legal officer from Arcadia could’ve processed it. And faster. There was no need to wait on my calendar.”

Sylus stepped around the desk. “So who’s it for?”

Thareon slid the scroll toward him.

Sylus read the names.

Prince Elias Cyran Velandros

Princess Renee Arcadia Nosfera

He blinked. “Wait. Renee Arcadia Nosfera? I thought the girl Elias was engaged to be named Ducart.”

“She was,” Thareon said. “Publicly.”

Sylus picked up the contract and is skimming it. The signature line was clear: Renee Arcadia Nosfera. Beneath it, two royal seals—Nosfera and Arcadia. And then Elias’s name, twice.

Sylus frowned. “He signed this?”

“Twice,” Thareon confirmed.

Sylus flipped through the supporting documents in the file: one detailing the proof of infidelity—Elias and Lady Irina Sanchez, complete with time-stamped records and witness affidavits. Another noting the complete lack of contact since the initial betrothal. And a final one outlining how Elias had publicly humiliated her on several occasions, often with recorded footage.

Sylus dropped the pages, incredulous. “This is… airtight. He has no legal defense. There are no grounds to contest. It’s not even a negotiation—it’s a financial execution.”

“Exactly,” Thareon said.

“So why you?” Sylus asked, brow furrowing. “Why would they bother involving the King of Drakoryth for something this clean? This surgical?”

Thareon was silent for a moment.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s been bothering me. This didn’t require me. This entire dissolution is a formality. She submitted every clause violation and every piece of evidence. There’s no wiggle room. No ambiguity.”

He tapped a finger against the wood. “Normally, when I’m brought in, it’s because there’s a risk. A volatile house. A diplomatic wedge. But this? This was precision. Deliberate. Calculated. Already over.”

Sylus was quiet, absorbing.

“She didn’t need you,” he said eventually. “She chose you.”

Thareon’s gaze sharpened. “Exactly. And that’s what I don’t like. Because I don’t know why.”

Sylus smirked faintly. “Maybe she just wanted to ensure Elias knew someone powerful was watching.”

“Maybe,” Thareon said. But he didn’t sound convinced.

Sylus looked down at the dissolution again, then shook his head slowly. “Either way... Elias is a fool.”

“A dangerous one,” Thareon said. “Wounded pride makes men reckless. And humiliated princes? Even more so.”

Sylus gave a dry chuckle. “He signed his downfall.”

“No,” Thareon said quietly, eyes narrowing. “She handed it to him. And he thanked her for it.”

The quiet in Thareon Drakareth’s study had only settled when the door burst open—again.

Sirius Drakareth Vezmera strode in like a storm barely holding itself together, his phone already held up triumphantly. His grin was too broad, and his eyes locked directly on Sylus.

“Father. You are not going to believe what just dropped.”

Thareon didn’t look up. “Why are you here?”

Sirius ignored him and turned the phone to face them. “Because your legacy—” he pointed at Sylus with a dramatic flourish, “—just got shattered.”

Sylus frowned. “What legacy?”

“The leaderboard, Sylus. It was updated this morning. Year-end classification exams. The new historic top scores list is out.”

Thareon’s brows rose slightly. That got his attention.

Sylus stood without urgency and took the phone as Sirius handed it over. He scanned the glowing screen.

ARCADIA ACADEMY — TOP HISTORICAL SCORES (Finalized Update)

1. RENEE ARCADIA NOSFERA – 200/200

2. SYLUS DRAKARETH VEZMERA – 198/200

3. DAMIEN SINCLARE – 195/200

4. XAVIER REED – 194/200

5. CHRISTOFER SFORZA – 193/200

He stared for a long moment. Slowly, he lowered the phone.

“Two hundred…” he said, voice quiet.

Sirius threw himself into a chair, hands behind his head. “Yup. First time. Ever. Not in the last decade. Not in a hundred years. Since Arcadia Academy was founded, no one has ever scored full marks.”

Thareon leaned forward slightly. “Not even during wartime classifications?”

Sirius shook his head. “Confirmed. Even the battle-born prodigies capped at 190. Ree blew right through the ceiling like it was paper.”

Sylus turned the phone slightly, looking at the ranking again.

Renee Arcadia Nosfera. A name that didn’t just rise—it landed like a claim.

“Is this verified?” Sylus asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Posted by the Academy Chancellor himself,” Sirius said proudly. “They triple-check these before uploading. She aced every category—combat execution. Magical precision. Tactical deployment. Psychological resistance. Leadership impact. Even ethics under pressure.”

Thareon raised an eyebrow. “Most fail that last one.”

“She rewrote the test format on two fronts,” Sirius added. “They’re changing the curriculum to adapt to what she did in the simulations. One of the professors reportedly fainted.”

Sylus studied the other names—Damien, Xavier, Christofer. All clustered just behind her. “This isn’t just one standout. This is a formation. A squad.”

“And it’s no accident,” Thareon said. “They’re not just good. They’re loyal. That kind of pattern doesn’t happen unless someone forged it.”

Sirius grinned. “That’s classic Ree. She doesn't just win. She builds dynasties under pressure.”

Sylus looked over, brow raised. “Ree?”

Sirius blinked, then shrugged like it was apparent. “Yeah. Ree. I trained with her once, remember? Exchange year. We sparred in Advanced Battlefield Conditioning. She floored two dueling instructors in under thirty seconds, then offered to fix their stances.”

Sylus gave him a flat look. “You’re a fan.”

“I’m a witness,” Sirius corrected. “To greatness.”

Thareon, unusually still, finally spoke. “I fought beside her. Twice. During the Eastern Line outbreak. She was just another officer then. No name. No rank worth remembering. But I remembered her.”

Sylus turned. “Why?”

“She and her squad took a collapsing flank and turned it into a forward push without orders. She moved like war belonged to her. And the enemy broke against her line as they knew it.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Thareon added, “She’s not just a name. She’s a force. And now everyone knows it.”

Sylus said nothing, but his gaze lingered on that list. That number. That name.

200/200.

She hadn’t just beaten him.

She’d made history.

The tension in the room had just begun to settle when the door slammed open with a force that could only belong to one woman.

Queen Vireth Vezmera-Drakareth entered like a storm wrapped in silk and fury. Her heels clicked like war drums, her crimson cloak trailing fire behind her as she moved straight to her desk without acknowledging her sons—or her mate.

She dropped her leather dossier onto the desk, opened it with a precise flick, and snapped, “Sylus. Your arrangement with Liana Ashborn is annulled. Effective immediately.”

Sylus blinked. “I’m… not complaining, but—what?”

Thareon stood slowly and crossed to her side, his hands resting gently on her shoulders. “Vireth,” he said in a low voice, already massaging the tension between her shoulder blades. “What happened?”

“She made a mistake,” Vireth seethed, beginning to draft the dissolution letter by hand, her strokes sharp enough to leave impressions on the wood beneath the paper. “For the last time. And I will not tolerate a self-absorbed, posturing brat on any throne tied to my house.”

Sylus arched an eyebrow, folding his arms. “Well, I’m glad to be out of that mess, but—what exactly did she do to earn your wrath this time?”

Vireth didn’t look up. Her voice dropped, dangerous and maternal.

“She attacked my baby.”

Sylus frowned. “What?”

Sirius leaned in, amused. “She means Renee.”

Sylus looked between them, baffled. “Okay—what is going on? Why is my entire family suddenly a Renee Arcadia Nosfera fan club, and I’m only now hearing about it?”

Vireth finally raised her head, her eyes gleaming with steel. “Because I have known her since she was born. Valethrina and I have been friends for over two decades.” She gave him a pointed look. “You should know that.”

Sylus froze. “You and Queen Valethrina—?”

“Gods, yes, Sylus,” Vireth snapped. “She's the Princess of House Nosfera? We trained together. We’ve fought together. She’s godmother to one of your cousins. Of course, I know her daughter. And Liana Ashborn dared to try and humiliate her—publicly. In the cafeteria. On the very first day of school.”

Sirius lit up. “Ooh. How’d that end?”

Vireth’s expression shifted—to something like vicious pride. “With Liana’s nose broken. One of her followers landed on a table. And the third didn’t even dare move.”

Sirius burst out laughing. “That’s my Ree.”

Sylus sat back, absorbing all of it. “So let me get this straight. Renee—whom I barely knew existed beyond a name—admires my younger brother, my father's respect, and my mother's full maternal protection. And she’s not even part of our kingdom.”

Vireth glanced up from the parchment with a proud tilt of her head. “She’s part of mine.”

Thareon smirked quietly, still rubbing her shoulders. “Welcome to the realization, son.”

Vireth continued writing, her tone calm and composed now. “I’ve set the dissolution date for two weeks from now. And since you, Thareon, are handling Princess Renee’s dissolution with Velandros, I’m nominating King Cael Arcadia as the dissolution agent for Liana’s.”

Sylus rose to his feet, exhaling slowly. “Well, I owe Renee Arcadia Nosfera a thank you.”

Sirius tilted his head. “For what? Breaking your record or your engagement?”

Sylus smirked. “Both.”

He turned toward the door, picking up his travel bag with a lightness in his step that hadn’t been there earlier.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, pausing just long enough to glance back. “I’ve got a trip to finish. And maybe… a message to send.”

And with that, Sylus left the room—no longer the top student in Arcadia’s history, but with a sense that something far more interesting had just begun.