Chapter 65 Weapon Selection

Chapter 65 Weapon Selection
Yet, as soon as her fingers hovered over the handle, the fire extinguished into a cold, dead gray.

The cycle repeated over and over. Every single weapon she approached would scream, flash, or hum in a desperate, chaotic frenzy, only to completely shut down and reject her the moment she attempted to claim it.

The whispers among the watching students started to turn nasty.

"Is she broken?"

"Look at that. Every single artifact is literally dying when she touches it."

"Maybe she doesn't even have the capacity to own a weapon."

"She was never made to own anything divine. What a joke."

Ravelyn’s jaw clenched, her face burning with a mixture of irritation and embarrassment as she backed away from a glowing blue spear that had just short-circuited. Even Kieran and Lucius were watching her now, their expressions tightening as the crowd’s muttering grew louder.

But inside Ravelyn’s head, a deep, heavy vibration began to echo right through her skull. It was a raw, primal instinct, a magnetic pull that resonated deeply with the darkest corners of her soul. Her nocturnal bloodline—the ancient, dark dragon core that usually slept beneath her skin—was violently waking up, dragging her focus away from the main pavilion.

Ignoring the snickering students, Ravelyn followed the pull, her boots clicking softly against the marble floor as she walked toward the furthest, most neglected corner of the massive hall.

Tucked away on a solitary, dust-covered stone pedestal, completely hidden from the glamorous displays of swords and spears, was a unique weapon.

It wasn't a ceremonial blade. It was a pair of obsidian bladed fans, their frames crafted from a strange, matte-black material that seemed to actively drink the shadows around it. The edges of the fans were lined with razor-sharp, midnight-purple steel that gleamed dangerously in the dim light. It didn't look holy or noble; it looked lethal, dark, and entirely predatory. While the hidden dragon bone sword she owned perfectly matched her bright, explosive Aurelian blood, this weapon was the absolute mirror of her dark side.

"Oh my god, is she insane?" someone muttered, their voice cutting through the hum of the dark electricity. "That's the Nocturnis Fan."

"Wait, isn't that the weapon the elders literally banned from the trials fifty years ago?" another whispered frantically. "The one that drove its last wielder entirely mad before draining their soul? It’s supposed to be cursed."

Ravelyn heard the words, but they sounded like they were underwater. The rumors of it being a forbidden, cursed relic didn't scare her. If anything, the dark, predatory pull of the obsidian frames felt like the only honest thing in this entire room. While the academy praised holy swords and pristine spears, this rejected weapon was matching her heartbeat beat for beat.

She took a sharp breath, completely ignoring Nina’s panicked shout from the main pavilion, and let her fingers wrap firmly around the matte-black handles.

Instantly, the ambient light in the corner of the hall died completely. Visible black and purplish sparks exploded outward from the pedestal, crackling through the air like miniature lightning bolts. The cursed dark energy wrapped aggressively around her wrists, pulsing in perfect harmony with the liquid fire in her veins. It didn't drain her soul; it welcomed her.

But before Ravelyn could even test the weight of the bladed fans in her hands, a sudden, bizarre chill swept through the entire staging bay. It wasn't the crisp, freezing celestial aura Lucius carried, nor was it the heavy, suffocating shadow pressure Kieran usually gave off. It was a vibration Ravelyn knew intimately, yet it felt fundamentally, terrifyingly twisted.

The black and purple sparks around her hands flickered, dying down to a low simmer.

The crowd of students around the main pavilion suddenly went dead silent, their petty gossiping instantly cutting off. A frantic, low wave of terrified whispers started rippling through the room, completely overriding the humming of the weapons.

"Wait, is that..."

"No way. How is she standing there right now?"

"Look at her eyes..."

Ravelyn blinked, the dark energy fading slightly as she forced herself to turn around, her heart dropping into her stomach as she followed the horrified gazes of the students.

Her breath completely hitched in her throat.

Leaning casually against the central stone pillar just a few feet away, completely unbothered by the sudden lockdown warnings beginning to flash red along the high ceilings, was Kaelie. She was back.

The air turned freezing cold, and the goosebumps on Ravelyn’s arms stood straight up. Her stomach did a violent flip. Every single instinct in her body was screaming at her to back away.

Kaelie pushed off the pillar.

"Move! Get away from her!" a guy yelled, scrambling backward so fast he crashed into a weapon rack.

"What is wrong with her?" a girl whispered, her voice shaking as she blocked her face. "Look at her eyes. Is she even awake?"

"Don't touch her," another voice hissed from the crowd.

Kaelie didn't look at any of them. She kept walking straight toward Ravelyn. The weirdest part? Her boots didn't make a single sound against the floor. Not a tap. Not a scrape. It was totally silent.

Ravelyn's fingers gripped the handles of the bladed fans so hard the purple metal bit into her skin. She wanted to step back, but her legs felt like actual blocks of cement.

Kaelie stopped right in front of her. Like, way too close.

Up close, the wrongness was loud. It was definitely Kaelie’s face. She had the same dark hair, the same little mole on her neck. But her eyes were completely blank. Her pupils were massive, just staring right through Ravelyn like two black holes, reflecting the flashing red lockdown lights.

And her chest wasn't moving. She wasn't even breathing.

"Kaelie?" Ravelyn whispered, her voice cracking.

Slowly, Kaelie's head snapped to the side—way too fast, like a broken doll. A tiny, creepy smile touched her lips, but her eyes stayed dead.

She leaned in, her skin giving off a weird smell of copper and old, dead flowers.

"You shouldn't have picked those up, Rav," she whispered.