SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 525: Awkward Encounter

Trafalgar prepared in his room to head out.

Moments ago, he had lingered under the shower, water streaming across his shoulders as a towel hung low around his waist. The steam had eased his tension far beyond what he'd anticipated. Images from the academy hall—the projection, Alfons storming away, countless students fixated on his name at the top—clung to his thoughts much longer than desired.

'I can’t recall the last casual gathering I attended,' he mused while toweling his hair. 'Not exactly. Back on Earth, yeah. We’d hit the town with friends after exams now and then. It’s been ages since anything like that.'

That held true.

On Earth, it flowed effortlessly. Exams wrapped up, gripes filled the air briefly, laughs erupted over near-catastrophes, and youth pulled everyone out together naturally. Here, even a basic outing with friends seemed oddly intricate. Trafalgar sensed this evening wouldn’t stay as low-key as he hoped. Simplicity rarely lasted long in his orbit. Destiny loved swooping in the moment he relaxed.

Dressed at last, he noted the sky beyond the academy darkening into dusk. He straightened his coat collar, shot a final look in the mirror, and exited his room.

The top-floor corridor lay hushed, as it typically did.

Naturally, Alfons waited there already.

The Vaelion scion lingered by the round lift platform, anticipating its ascent. His attire was impeccable, per usual—sharp cuts, precise stitching, every element flawless. He appeared to have invested more effort in readiness than needed.

Trafalgar approached at steady speed.

No words escaped him. No need existed. Clad properly, uninterested in bickering, and even less inclined to provoke Alfons pointlessly, he just halted nearby and awaited the lift.

Silence enveloped them at once.

Far from comfortable, it carried substance. Density. The type that dragged out the drop before it started.

Moments passed, then the platform ascended silently into position. They boarded together, runes underfoot igniting softly as descent commenced.

The trip ought to have been brief.

Endless, it dragged.

Encircling openness, faint mana hum from below, lack of noise beyond the machinery—all conspired to elongate the instant. Trafalgar fixed his gaze ahead. Normally, Alfons wielded such quiet like a weapon. He braced for a barbed comment as they passed the next floor.

Yet Alfons spoke calmly.

"What did you hunt?"

Trafalgar turned to him briefly.

Such bluntness disarmed him more than any slur could.

"A sand worm," he replied.

Alfons fell quiet thereafter.

Face forward, features steady, the response had evidently struck home. He grasped sand worm implications. His second-place finish wasn’t luck. His prey had outshone almost all peers that term.

No further words passed between them.

Uneasy hush persisted through the remaining drop until the platform hit bottom. Trafalgar exited ahead, striding to the entrance unchecked. Alfons veered elsewhere, departing as smoothly as he’d shown up.

That sufficed for them both.

Outside, chill evening breeze greeted Trafalgar instantly. Campus buzz hadn’t faded. Students traversed paths and boulevards—some dormitory-bound, others savoring post-exam liberty fully.

His companions awaited just beyond the structure.

Xavier waved first. Bartholomew flanked Cynthia, whose poise masked her evident ease compared to before. Zafira joined them, serene as ever, as though impromptu post-exam jaunts demanded zero adaptation from her.

"Good," Xavier declared upon spotting him. "Now we’re all here. Ready?"

Nods rippled through the group variably, and they set off jointly for the academy station.

Trafalgar rode the train reversed for the first time. Past trips led to Velkaris. Duties. Euclid. Kin concerns. Directed travel. Tonight diverged. They abandoned academy grounds for frivolity, bound for an unfamiliar neutral city, purely on Xavier’s whim.

That by itself lent the entire scene a touch of surrealism.

As the train pulled in, they climbed aboard the first carriage like usual. The reserved wagon for those with prestige and power stood almost vacant that evening, with just a handful of other travelers who minded their own business and wisely avoided prying. Plush velvet seats, gleaming woodwork, cozy mana lamps, and that subtle aroma of luxurious fabrics lingering in the atmosphere. Comfort seemed the primary design of the carriage, not speed or distance.

Bartholomew clearly felt out of place amid all this luxury.

He perched on the seat with rigid caution, as if the cushion might reprimand him for daring to sit there. Trafalgar observed it silently. Without his influence, Barth probably never would have entered such a carriage casually, let alone as routine.

Beyond the window, the academy started receding into the distance.

Silence hung for some time. The train's steady rhythm occupied the gap between them, and the journey acquired that peculiar hush following a day that had drained most conversation from everyone.

Cynthia shattered the quiet first.

"By the way," she remarked, shifting a bit toward Trafalgar, "did you and Alfons really descend together? I hadn’t anticipated that."

Trafalgar gazed at the passing landscape outside. He raised his head slightly and replied offhandedly.

"Oh. That was just coincidence," he said. "I didn’t want to keep you all waiting, so I got on the lift with him."

The response sufficed as clarification.

Nobody probed deeper. Perhaps there was nothing more to inquire. Or maybe the notion of those two sharing even a short, silent ride down felt odd enough already.

The remainder of the journey unfolded uneventfully.

At last, the train decelerated, its motion softening as the city loomed closer. Stepping out, Trafalgar instantly grasped why Xavier hadn’t hyped the location excessively.

Another neutral metropolis sprawled before them, vast and thriving, boasting identical markers of affluence and arcane tech that kept Velkaris buzzing nonstop. The buildings differed in style, yet the grandeur rang true. Expansive avenues, mana lamps glowing as dusk fell, bustling platforms, sleek stone facades, spires reflecting fading sunlight, and constant bustle rendering the city eternally awake.

Trafalgar felt no awe.

By now, the world had revealed far grander spectacles to him.

Still, its novelty held his focus as they proceeded.

Xavier knew the destination precisely. He assumed command right away, with the group trailing him along the roads. Deeper in, academy students became more visible nearby—not merely freshmen. Pupils from every year dotted the upcoming district, some clustered together, others attired more finely than normal, a few guffawing boisterously to hint at the evening’s direction.

Xavier’s choice wasn’t some obscure nook.

The academy frequented this spot.

And as Trafalgar trailed the group further into the urban heart, a subtle sense stirred that the night was merely starting to heat up.