A Path Divided Beneath the Sa Sky
When Victor trained his new subordinates in Fantom City, within the Knight Academy’s shadow, a class was in session—one that spoke of past battles, of glory etched into history.
The professor’s voice echoed across the hall, recounting how once legendry hero had once stood alone and faced a three-headed bearowl, tearing through it with a calm brutality that defied reason.
The students listened with varying expressions—admiration, disbelief, envy. So leaned forward, eyes shining at the thought of such overwhelming strength. Others folded their arms, skeptical, unwilling to accept that a single man could command such dominance.
Among them sat Videl.
She leaned back slightly in her seat, one leg crossed over the other, her long blonde hair cascading down her back like a stream of gold catching the afternoon light. Her sapphire-blue eyes were not on the professor.
They were distant.
Unfocused.
Lost.
The words of the lecture drifted past her ears like wind brushing against stone.
Videl now—had left Victor’s group because she needed to return here. Needed to attend classes. Needed to walk the path she had chosen... or at least, the path that had been placed before her.
Yet—
As she sat there, surrounded by polished desks and neatly dressed students, sothing inside her twisted.
Is this... really it?
Her fingers tightened slightly against the edge of her desk.
Is this how soone becos a hero?
The question lingered in her chest, heavy, uncomfortable.
Because it didn’t feel right.
It didn’t feel like anything.
The professor continued, voice rising slightly with dramatic emphasis as he described legendry hero’s battle—how he had moved, how he had struck, how the creature had fallen beneath him.
The class reacted.
So whispered.
So gasped.
But Videl—
She felt nothing but a growing restlessness.
He’s out there right now...
Her gaze shifted slightly toward the window. Sunlight spilled through, warm and alive, carrying with it the distant sounds of the city—the clatter of life, the hum of movent, the pulse of sothing real.
Training them... fighting... growing stronger...
Her jaw tightened just a little.
And I’m here... sitting.
Her heart beat heavier.
Slower.
Listening.
The thought felt bitter.
Because the hero she admired the most—the one who stood at the peak of her heart—was not soone who sat in classrooms.
He moved.
He acted.
He carved his path through blood, through struggle, through will.
Victor.
Even now, just thinking his na stirred sothing deep inside her chest. Sothing warm. Sothing sharp.
Sothing dangerous.
If I stay here... will I ever reach him?
The question ca quietly.
But it hit hard.
Still... she knew the truth wasn’t so simple.
The hero she admired most had been a knight. A symbol of honor, discipline, strength.
A path walked with pride.
And yet—
Not all heroes wore armor.
So were tailors.
So were innkeepers.
So were people the world never noticed... until it was too late.
Her fingers curled slightly.
So what am I supposed to be?
The question echoed.
Should she beco an adventurer instead?
If she did—
She could return to Victor.
She could stand beside him again.
Train with him.
Fight with him.
Grow with him.
The thought alone sent a faint warmth spreading through her chest.
...I could stay with him.
But then—
Another voice surfaced in her mind.
Cold.
Firm.
"Do things by yourself."
Victor’s words.
She rembered them clearly.
He hadn’t said it casually.
He had ant it.
Deeply.
"See. Feel. Judge things by yourself."
Her eyes lowered slightly.
How am I supposed to do that... if I’m not even there?
Her thoughts tangled, twisting against each other.
If she stayed—she was stagnant.
If she left—was she abandoning her own path?
If she followed him—was she truly growing... or just chasing?
Her chest tightened.
What do I even want?
For a mont—
She didn’t have an answer.
The classroom felt smaller.
The air felt heavier.
The voices around her blurred into aningless noise.
And then—
It snapped.
"ARRRGH WHAT THE HELL!"
Her voice cut through the room like a blade.
Sharp.
Raw.
Uncontrolled.
The entire class froze.
Dozens of eyes turned toward her instantly.
So wide with shock.
So narrowing with annoyance.
So filled with quiet disdain.
The professor stopped mid-sentence.
Slowly—
Very slowly—
He turned his head toward her.
The atmosphere shifted.
The warmth in the room dropped, replaced by sothing colder... heavier.
"Miss. Videl," the professor said, his voice flat but edged with steel, "is my lecture angering you?"
The room went silent.
Even the air seed to hold its breath.
Videl blinked once.
Twice.
The weight of attention crashed down on her all at once.
Her shoulders stiffened slightly.
"...I’m sorry, professor."
The words ca out quieter than she expected.
She lowered her head, blonde strands slipping forward to hide her eyes.
For a mont—
She hated that.
Hated the way she sounded.
Small.
But she said nothing more.
The professor’s gaze lingered on her.
Cold.
Unforgiving.
"You might think that you’re soone special, Madam Videl," he continued, his voice gaining a sharper edge, "being the Principal’s favorite... but even you cannot act this way in class."
A few students shifted in their seats.
So smirked faintly.
Others simply watched, waiting.
Videl’s fingers tightened under the desk.
She said nothing.
"No matter what you must have—"
And he continued.
His lecture stretched on, no longer about heroes or history—but about discipline, respect, behavior.
Each word struck like a dull hamr.
Not painful enough to break—
But enough to grind.
Videl remained silent.
Head lowered.
Eyes hidden.
Yet inside—
Her thoughts didn’t stop.
...Special?
The word echoed faintly.
A bitter taste followed.
If I was special... I wouldn’t feel like this.
Her chest rose slowly.
Fell.
If I was special... I’d already know what to do.
Her mind drifted again—
To Victor.
To the way he stood.
To the way he moved.
To the way he looked at the world... like it was sothing to conquer, not question.
Her lips pressed together slightly.
He doesn’t hesitate.
That realization stung more than anything the professor said.
Because she did.
She was hesitating.
Standing between two paths—
And walking neither.
Outside, the wind brushed against the academy walls.
Soft.
Distant.
Free.
Videl didn’t look up.
But sowhere deep inside her—
Sothing began to shift.
Not a decision.
Not yet.
But a crack.
A fracture in the certainty she once had.
The lecture continued.
And Videl—
She sat there in silence—
Caught between who she was...
And who she wanted to beco.
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