SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 612: Morning Instructions

- Trafalgar POV -

The very first action Trafalgar took upon waking was to check the Shadowlink Echo.

With a minute ripple of mana, the item materialized in his palm, its familiar weight a known sensation against his skin. He had utilized it so frequently by now that even its texture felt intimately understood. A small infusion of mana into the device stirred a recorded message within.

Caelum's voice emerged, steady and precise.

"Young master, I managed what I could during the initial night. My investigations and preparations are set in motion. As you conjectured, the Atrium seems to be the focal point. By the time you receive this, I will already be inside, at work. I shall report all findings tonight."

No further words were spoken.

The Shadowlink Echo dulled in his hand before it dissipated into mana particles, returning to his inventory.

Trafalgar, still unclothed from the previous night after succumbing to sleep without bothering to change, reached for his attire while his mind strategized the next move.

'So, Caelum has infiltrated already. Excellent. Speed is paramount here, and if he can provide me with something tangible tonight, we'll finally have a lead to follow.' He fastened his shirt, button by button, his jaw tightening. 'If Selara's master is indeed within this city, that's a discovery worth the inherent risks. A perilous one, but valuable.'

He had barely secured the final button when insistent knocks echoed against the door.

Trafalgar traversed the room, adjusting his collar. He hadn't completed his dressing, but that dilemma would have to be someone else's concern. It was possible Selara awaited on the other side, and patience was rarely a winning strategy when dealing with her.

He opened the door.

Cynthia stood there.

"Good morning," Trafalgar greeted. "Did you come to fetch me?"

Cynthia's gaze locked onto him, momentarily losing her train of thought. For a fleeting instant, she forgot whatever she had intended to say. Trafalgar, half-dressed, with his hair disheveled and shirt clasped more in representation than in reality, had apparently presented a combination potent enough to disrupt her composure in a way she instantly regretted.

She cleared her throat, reasserting her control, though not with the seamlessness she desired.

"Yes. Director Selara asked me to find you," she stated. "Today marks our first official day here, so it seems we aren't merely on vacation. She has arranged something for us during our stay in Aurevane and mentioned she would explain it downstairs."

Trafalgar emitted a soft huff through his nose, finishing with his collar. "Naturally, she has. I harbored doubts they'd grant us a fortnight's respite for mere leisure. Though, following the ordeal on the train, I would contend we've earned at least one tranquil breakfast."

Cynthia stepped aside as he proceeded into the corridor. "After the train journey, most would concur."

They proceeded together.

The lodging corridor was significantly quieter than it had been the previous night. Doors remained closed, and the scant few students already awake moved with the subdued energy characteristic of those who had endured a restless sleep and were making a concerted effort to conceal it. Aurevane might offer greater safety than the rails, yet apprehension doesn't simply vanish with the posting of guards at the city's entrance.

Cynthia cast a sideways glance. "Incidentally, I heard the First Concord arrived subsequent to the attack. What are they like?"

"Efficient, at the very least," Trafalgar replied. "They wasted no time and demonstrated clear competence. Should any further incidents arise, their proximity is preferable to relying solely on local security."

"That is reassuring to hear." Her shoulders relaxed marginally. "Following yesterday's events, no one desires to discover the city's defenses are purely for show."

"Ornamental security sounds precisely like something Aurevane would implement."

She almost offered a smile. "You've been here a single night."

"That was sufficient."

By the time they reached the lobby, a number of students had already convened, with others gradually emerging from stairwells and adjacent corridors, their conversations muted. The atmosphere had indeed improved from that of the train journey, albeit only superficially. A select few students still bore evident tension. Others continually scanned the entrances, as if anticipating unwelcome visitors for breakfast.

Trafalgar could empathize. Everyone present had endured the same harrowing experience the day before. Some were coping more adeptly than others. Some were merely feigning composure.

Selara stood near the lobby's center, flanked by several Academy staff members. Upon Trafalgar's arrival, she acknowledged him with a subtle inclination of her head. Her expression lacked the usual playful sharpness she so readily displayed. There was no hint of teasing at the corners of her mouth, nor any bright, dangerous amusement.

Something felt amiss.

He couldn't quite articulate it yet, only perceive its outline. Selara intended to speak with him after this gathering; her posture suggested that the public address served merely as an irksome barrier separating her from their more significant conversation.

Once the final students had filtered into the lobby, Selara stepped forward.

"Good morning, everyone." Her voice resonated throughout the lobby. "First, I am delighted to see all of you present. Yesterday's attack was not an incident students should have endured during an Academy trip, but you managed it with more fortitude than many seasoned adults would have."

The room fell into silence.

Selara continued, her usual playfulness absent, though not replaced by coldness. "This accommodation is secure. Aurevane's authorities have bolstered the area's defenses, and the First Concord is actively patrolling the city. I will not disrespect you by pretending there is no danger whatsoever, but none of you have been left vulnerable."

That sentiment offered some comfort. It wasn't complete relief, but it was enough that a few students finally exhaled the breaths they had been holding tightly since traversing the rails.

"Now," Selara proceeded, raising one hand as an Academy aide began distributing documents, "our purpose here remains academic. You will each be assigned individual tasks related to the recent event, Aurevane's various facilities, and the exhibitions you are scheduled to visit. These assignments are not punitive, nor are they designed to overwhelm you. Consider them as structured work to occupy your time while we are here."

The papers smoothly circulated through the assembled group.

Trafalgar accepted his and directed his gaze downward, anticipating a trivial assignment concocted merely to maintain a semblance of order.

What he discovered, however, was utter gibberish.

The document bore enough official formatting to appear legitimate at first glance, yet its actual content was a jumble of disparate terms. Ward alignment. Historical glasswork. Alchemical breakfast. Rotational etiquette. Three lines further down, it posed a question about comparative window pressure within a sentence that made no discernible sense.

Trafalgar suppressed a laugh.

Selara's attention immediately fixated on him, and the warmth in her expression noticeably diminished.

He composed his features instantly, adopting a posture of diligent student, as if the paper contained a perfectly standard assignment. No one else seemed to notice their brief interaction, although Cynthia's lips quirked beside him in a manner suggesting she had observed more than enough.

'Traitor.'

Selara resumed her address as if no unspoken exchange had occurred. "You will have time to eat before commencing your tasks. Remain in your groups unless instructed otherwise, report any unusual occurrences, and refrain from venturing into restricted zones simply because fleeting curiosity might override your survival instincts."

A few students shifted uncomfortably at this particular directive.

"Excellent," Selara concluded. "Breakfast first. Work afterward."

The gathering dispersed, students moving toward the dining area in informal clusters. A few individuals compared their newly received assignments. Others radiated relief at having any form of direction, however mundane. Even busywork possessed a certain gravitas when it provided a clear objective.

Trafalgar remained stationary near the lobby's periphery, accompanied by Cynthia.

Selara approached them once the majority of the students had departed.

"Student Cynthia," she stated, her tone polite yet firm, "I would appreciate the opportunity to speak with Trafalgar privately. It pertains to the events of yesterday on the train. As you are aware, he was instrumental in assisting us, and there are several details I need to discuss with him."

Cynthia acquiesced without objection. "Of course. I shall wait outside."

Trafalgar offered her a brief nod. "I shall not be long."

She took her leave, but not before casting a final glance toward the nonsensical assignment clutched in his hand. This time, she allowed a faint smile to surface.

Once Cynthia had departed, Selara turned her full attention toward him.

Trafalgar held up the paper between his thumb and forefinger. "Alchemical breakfast?"

Selara swiftly took it from his grasp and folded it once with an unnecessary show of force.

"It was the first plausible-sounding item that came to mind," she confessed in a low tone.

Her voice shifted, dropping from its public projection in the next breath. The playful demeanor had vanished, tucked away where it would be unnecessary for the conversation that was about to unfold.