Chapter 252: Stranger in Violet

The sun hung low over the horizon, its golden light spilling through the wide glass corridors of the academy. Students poured out in clusters, chatting and laughing — though even their laughter sounded tense this day.

The rumors of war were spreading faster than the news itself, and the unease in the air was almost tangible.

Trafalgar walked quietly through the marble hallway, hands buried in his pockets, the faint echo of his boots following him. Classes had just ended — History with Professor Rhaldrin, then two hours of some other class — and all he wanted now was silence.

’Finally,’ he thought, exhaling. ’One day of peace, and it already feels like a damn miracle.’

He stepped outside, where the red-orange sky stretched over the academy’s gardens. Bartholomew was waiting for him by the gate, his usual nervous energy written all over his posture — shoulders hunched, fingers gripping a small pouch that clinked faintly with coins.

"T-Trafalgar," Barth greeted, his voice careful as always. "You, um... you said we could go to Velkaris today? To the scroll market?"

Trafalgar nodded, glancing toward the mana rails that snaked down from the academy into the city. "Yeah. You wanted a defensive skill, right?"

Barth nodded quickly. "Y-yes. I’ve been saving for it since... well, since you gave me that money. I—I think I can finally afford a good one."

Trafalgar smirked faintly. "So the Archivist’s getting serious now. Good. You’ll last longer next time something goes wrong."

Barth’s cheeks turned slightly red, but he smiled shyly. "I just don’t want to keep holding everyone back."

"Then don’t," Trafalgar said simply, brushing past him toward the rail platform. "Learn it, master it, and make it yours."

They reached the mana train station a few minutes later. The first-class cabin was waiting, the only one headed directly to the central district of Velkaris.

Normally, Bartholomew wouldn’t have been allowed in. But when the conductor saw Trafalgar du Morgain step forward, the man bowed instantly and waved them both in without question.

Barth hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. "I’ll, uh... I’ll pay you back someday for this."

Trafalgar leaned against the window as the doors slid shut, his tone casual. "You already did. That money was yours — you earned it helping me back then."

Barth blinked, surprised. "I... did?"

"Yeah," Trafalgar said, eyes fixed on the glowing cityline ahead. "I don’t give away charity, Barth. You did the work, so you got paid. Simple."

Barth smiled faintly, his usual nervousness easing just a little. "T-thanks. I guess that makes sense."

Trafalgar’s expression didn’t change, but his voice softened slightly. "If you’re looking for another job, I might have something soon. Interested?"

Barth tilted his head, uncertain. "Is it... dangerous? Like the last one?"

Trafalgar’s lips twitched into a small grin. "No idea," he said. "We’ll have to find out."

The mana train glided forward, the hum of its engines soft and constant. Blue light from the conduits below cast a faint glow across the polished interior. Every seat was lined with silver and velvet, and the air carried the faint scent of incense.

Bartholomew looked around with wide eyes, fidgeting in his seat. "I-I still can’t believe I’m sitting here," he muttered, voice low but full of awe. "This cabin’s for nobles and merchants worth millions of gold. Someone like me doesn’t belong here..."

Trafalgar gave him a sidelong glance. "You’re here because you’re with me," he said simply. "That’s all that matters."

Barth chuckled nervously. "R-right. I’ll just... try not to breathe too loud, then."

Trafalgar ignored the comment, leaning back in his seat and resting one arm along the frame. "So," he said after a pause, "what kind of skill are you after this time?"

Barth brightened a little at the question. "Well, um... I was thinking of three options. One’s a defensive bubble — it blocks ranged attacks for a few seconds. Another’s a small mana shield that moves with me, but it eats mana too fast for my level. And there’s one more — a reactive barrier that counters physical strikes if I time it perfectly."

Trafalgar raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that last one? Sounds like a gamble."

"I know," Barth admitted, lowering his gaze. "But even if I pick the right one, I’ll need to buy at least a hundred scrolls to even start learning it. My... Talent doesn’t help with things like this."

There was a silence between them, broken only by the rhythmic vibration of the train.

Trafalgar glanced out the window, the city of Velkaris approaching like a web of light and shadow. "Don’t worry about it," he said finally. "I’ll help you. We’ll make it work."

Barth looked at him, surprised, then smiled softly. "You really mean that?"

Trafalgar nodded. "Sure man, just like last time with the Sleep skill."

He turned his eyes back to the glass, watching the glowing rails stretch endlessly ahead.

’You’ll be a great help in the future — I can already tell,’ he thought. ’Especially since you’re one of the legendary ones... just like me. I wonder when I’ll meet the others.’

The train slowed as it entered the city, the hum deepening to a low pulse. Through the panoramic windows, the skyline of Velkaris unfolded — tall crystalline towers, floating platforms humming with mana, and crowded streets. The capital of the world was alive as ever, even beneath the tension of rumor and war.

Bartholomew stepped out first, breathing in the familiar scent of mana and steam. His eyes wandered across the glowing banners and crowded platforms before settling back on Trafalgar. "Same as always," he murmured. "Busy."

Trafalgar nodded slightly, scanning the masses moving through the enormous station. "Yeah. Despite all the talk of war, Velkaris keeps running. Everyone still working, trading, pretending the world isn’t about to fall apart."

Barth gave a small, weary smile. "Guess that’s Velkaris for you. People here don’t stop for anything."

"Right," Trafalgar said, hands tucked into his pockets as they joined the flow of travelers. The crowd was a blend of every race—elves, beastkin, dwarves, demons, and humans—all passing through the same city that refused to pick a side.

The tension lingered faintly in the air, but life moved on. Vendors shouted from stalls, carriages rolled past on floating rails, and street performers drew small crowds near the Gate Hub entrance.

Trafalgar’s gaze drifted upward to the towering spires of light that marked the Market District. "Come on," he said. "Let’s get your scrolls before someone else buys them all out. War rumors make people panic-buy everything."

Barth adjusted his bag and followed with a quiet nod. "Yeah..."

The Market District was a labyrinth of sound and color — glowing sigils floated above shop signs, and enchanted glass orbs lit the streets in shifting hues. Even with the tension hanging over the city, merchants shouted over one another, trying to sell whatever fragments of power they could.

Bartholomew followed close behind Trafalgar, clutching his coin pouch with both hands. They stopped before a narrow shop built from blackstone and polished oak, its entrance flanked by two levitating lanterns shaped like eyes.

The moment they stepped inside, the air grew dense with mana residue — hundreds of sealed scrolls lined the walls behind shimmering barriers. A short, elderly man with spectacles too big for his face looked up from behind the counter. "Welcome, welcome. Looking for something specific, gentlemen?"

Barth froze. "Uh, y-yes! I mean—uhm..." He swallowed hard, glancing at Trafalgar, who only raised an eyebrow in silent amusement. "I’m... looking for defensive spells, sir. Maybe something... um, like a mana bubble, or a moving shield. Something that helps with... not dying."

The shopkeeper chuckled dryly. "Practical choice. Not many young ones come asking for protection these days. Everyone wants fireballs and lightning strikes." He adjusted his spectacles. "You said a mana bubble? That would be Aegis Veil. A moving shield... likely Spectral Guard. And something reactive, you said? Perhaps Reflective Barrier, but that’s an advanced skill."

Barth’s eyes darted across the shelves before he swallowed and stepped closer to the counter. "I—I’ll take a hundred copies of Spectral Guard, please."

The old merchant froze mid-movement, blinking behind his spectacles. "A... hundred?" He leaned forward, studying Barth as if he’d misheard. "You’re not joking, are you?"

Barth shook his head quickly. "N-no, sir. A hundred. It’s the only way I can— I mean, it’s how I train best."

The shopkeeper let out a low whistle and scratched the back of his head. "Well, I’ll be damned. Haven’t had someone order that many of the same scroll in years. Thought the last person who tried that was insane."

Trafalgar’s tone came out flat but firm. "Can you get them or not?"

The man coughed, straightening his glasses. "Yes, yes, of course. Two silver coins per scroll... that’ll be two hundred silver in total. I’ll have to bring them out from storage, though."

Barth’s hands trembled slightly as he opened his pouch and began stacking coins on the counter. The metallic clinks drew a few glances from nearby customers.

As the old merchant counted, he chuckled dryly. "You two heading off to war or something? Everyone’s been coming in buying weapons, potions, scrolls... I swear, the panic’s starting early." He grinned with yellowed teeth. "The crisis of fear’s begun, eh?"

Trafalgar’s eyes narrowed, his tone cool. "We’re not preparing for anything that concerns you."

That shut the man up fast. He cleared his throat and nodded. "Right. None of my business. Always happy to sell, not to pry."

He disappeared into the back room and returned minutes later, hauling out several reinforced cases filled with scrolls. "There. One hundred Spectral Guard scrolls, freshly sealed and mana-checked."

Barth’s face brightened despite the strain of carrying so many. "Th-thank you, sir!"

The old man waved a hand. "Pleasure doing business. Come again—preferably before the world ends."

As they stepped back out into the crowded street, Barth exhaled heavily, clutching the cases close. "That... that was a lot of money."

Trafalgar smirked faintly, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Investment. You’ll thank yourself later."

Barth was half-listening to Trafalgar as they walked, carefully sliding each case of scrolls into his system inventory. The faint blue shimmer of mana flickered over his hands every few seconds.

"I still can’t believe I actually bought a hundred..." he murmured. "Again..."

Trafalgar smirked. "You’ll live. Think of it as training—or an expensive reminder not to die early."

Barth gave a nervous laugh, glancing up—just in time for someone to collide hard into his shoulder. The impact nearly knocked the breath out of him.

"S-sorry!" Barth stammered, stepping back quickly. The scroll cases already vanished into his inventory, but the jolt left him rattled.

The man he’d bumped into didn’t move at first. He stood tall—easily a head taller than Trafalgar—with long violet hair that brushed the collar of a deep, tailored coat. His skin carried a faint bronze tone, and his eyes, a muted lilac, gleamed with calm amusement. There was something unnerving about him: no visible mana flow, no core signature Trafalgar could sense. Almost as if the world itself bent around him quietly.

Trafalgar’s tone cut in sharp. "Watch where you’re going."

The man turned his gaze to Trafalgar and smiled faintly. "Ah. My apologies. Seems I wasn’t paying attention either."

Barth shook his head, flustered. "N-no, it’s my fault! I was—"

The stranger raised a hand lightly. "No harm done." Then his eyes flicked between the two of them, settling on Trafalgar for a moment longer than felt comfortable. "You must be students from the academy, yes? Interesting times to be wandering the city."

Trafalgar narrowed his eyes, instinctively reading him, but there was nothing to grasp—no presence, no hostility, just that easy composure. "Something like that," he said evenly.

The man’s smile deepened ever so slightly. "Hm. I see." He adjusted his gloves and stepped aside, motioning courteously. "Then I won’t keep you. Enjoy the rest of your day."

As he walked past, Trafalgar’s gaze followed him, a faint edge of suspicion tightening his jaw.

Barth exhaled, rubbing his shoulder. "S-sorry, Trafalgar. I wasn’t—"

"It’s fine," Trafalgar muttered, eyes still on the violet-haired man weaving through the crowd ahead. ’I don’t like it... I couldn’t sense anything from him. Normally, since I arrived at Pulse Core, I can sense the strength of the people around me if they’re close to my strength...’

The hum of Velkaris returned around them, but Trafalgar’s focus didn’t fade.

’Who the hell was that?’