SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 527: Night Road

The festivities had at last drawn to a close.

When they departed, the night had grown profoundly dark, and the streets that buzzed with crowds just hours before now felt far more tranquil. The city hadn't fallen completely quiet, but it had mellowed considerably. Voices grew scarcer. Footsteps echoed less. Greater spaces separated each passing group. It was that time of night when even the most vibrant spots began to unwind.

Trafalgar trailed the group toward the station, yet he didn't walk right alongside them.

Xavier, Cynthia, and Bartholomew led a short way ahead, their voices floating back in scattered snippets. Zafira had matched her stride to his, near enough for hushed words without any pressure. The gap from the others wasn't wide, merely enough to carve out a private interlude.

Silence lingered between them for some moments.

City lamps bathed the pavement in a cozy glow, glinting off panes, masonry, and fleeting fences. In the distance behind, echoes of the celebration's tunes still seeped into the darkness, muted by the miles.

Trafalgar broke the quiet first.

"What do you think about going to Mariven Port in two weeks?" he asked. "There’s something I need to take care of first, but after that we can go."

Zafira tilted her head a touch his way, her face steady, yet a subtle nod of agreement shone through.

"Oh? Fine by me," she said. "Don’t worry about rushing it. I’ll use that time to go home first. My father wants to see me too."

Trafalgar released a soft exhale that hinted at amusement.

"Malakar wants to see how much his daughter has grown?"

Zafira shot him a quick sidelong look. "Yes. My father worries about me. He always did the same with my brothers." After a brief pause. "At the turn of the year, we have to go see him."

"Hm."

Trafalgar kept his hands tucked in his coat pockets while they strolled.

"My father hasn’t said anything like that to me," he said. "He just told me to stay around the academy. I guess it makes sense after everything that’s happened."

"It does," Zafira replied. "Even if no one can just put a hand on you, that doesn’t mean wandering around carelessly would be wise."

Trafalgar cocked his head faintly.

"You think someone would actually try?"

Worry didn't color his tone. Curiosity did, if anything.

"None of the Eight Great Families would do it," he continued. "That would be enough to start another war."

Zafira dipped her chin in agreement. "Exactly. And we just finished one." Her words stayed even, but their edge cut sharp. "So no, it would be strange timing for a family to try anything right now."

"Besides," Trafalgar added, "with the rumors about someone from the Primordial bloodline being detected, attention has shifted toward that more than toward me." His eyes flicked to the shadowed road ahead. "It hasn’t become public knowledge for everyone, but rumors spread faster than official truths ever do."

Zafira conceded the observation without hesitation.

"That’s true," she said. "Barth, Cynthia, and plenty of others outside the great families can still hear about things like this. Especially inside the academy. One conversation between the wrong people, one careless comment from someone important, and after that it goes from mouth to mouth until half the city knows some distorted version of it."

Trafalgar offered a slight nod.

One reason he valued talks with Zafira was this: no need to sketch the world's contours first. She grasped the power structures, the influential figures, the perilous gossip, and the weight of unspoken pauses. With Alfons, discussions would sour instantly. With Bartholomew... not quite there yet.

He trusted Barth.

That wasn't the problem.

He just preferred not to pull him deep into that realm prematurely. Not while the academy cloaked them in a fragile separation. Post-graduation, things would shift. Then Trafalgar would pose the question outright about his path ahead.

The notion sharpened in his mind then.

’Now that I think about it... I should offer him a place beside me later.’

His stride held steady.

’He should stay close to me when the time comes. His class is going to be important.’

The resolve clung as they arrived at the station.

On the return journey, the train had grown noticeably quieter. Even Xavier's boisterous chatter had dimmed somewhat, though he hadn't fallen completely silent. Bartholomew now appeared blissfully fatigued instead of uneasy, while Cynthia let the evening wind down naturally without pushing to keep it animated. Silently, Zafira reclaimed her spot next to Trafalgar, and the trip back to the academy flowed along with the gentle clatter of the rails and the subtle mana vibration humming through the carriage.

As they finally disembarked at the academy station, the grounds lay almost deserted.

This was expected at such a late hour. Lamps cast elongated amber glows along the paths, and the central campus thoroughfares adopted that ethereal calm they often held deep into the night, making the academy resemble less a hive of students and more a hushed city crafted for phantoms of strictness and aspiration.

They strolled together a bit longer after that.

By instinct more than words, the group eventually dispersed, each veering toward their own corner of the grounds. Trafalgar walked alongside Zafira once more, their rooms sharing the same floor.

At the dormitory entrance, they came to a halt.

"Goodnight," Zafira said.

"Goodnight."

No awkwardness tainted the exchange. No lingering threads either. Simply the serene mutual awareness of two individuals destined to cross paths again shortly.

Within the building, they parted ways, the hallway hushed save for their echoing steps and the soft whir of the circular lift gliding upward past floors. Upon reaching his room, Trafalgar entered, secured the door, and permitted the full weight of night to settle around him.

His quarters' silence carried a distinct tone from the quiet outdoors.

He lifted one hand.

A compact black artifact emerged above his palm, glossy and shadowy, with delicate lines etched across it like dormant runes sealed under stone.

The Shadowlink Echo.

Trafalgar channeled mana into it.

Softly, the runes ignited, and the link established nearly instantly.

"Caelum," he said, his voice firm amid the room's tranquility. "I need to go see Darian tomorrow. And I need you with me."

The message transmitted flawlessly from the device.

A brief wait sufficed.

With prompt precision, the Shadowlink Echo throbbed again, and Trafalgar poured mana into it once more. Moments later, Caelum's voice resonated through, composed, straightforward, and as rigorously controlled as always.

"Understood, Young Master. We will go tomorrow. I will meet you at the Gate Hub in Velkaris, and from there we will proceed together."

That settled it.

Trafalgar eased the item down slightly, its subtle luminescence fading over the surface.

Darian.

The city message had already revealed one clear truth. An event had unfolded on his end, grave enough to demand swift and cautious steps. Trafalgar had planned to meet him in any case. Now, the encounter had escalated from advantageous to essential.

The scheme with Zafira and Mariven Port must be deferred.

He gripped the Shadowlink Echo tightly, watching it disintegrate into wisps of mana particles before vanishing entirely.

Tomorrow, Darian beckoned.

And whatever forces had stirred to life within House Thal’zar, he would learn of them straight from the source.