The old man could still recall the scenes from a year ago.
Back then, just like at the beginning of this semester, he had stood in his office in the great clock tower, gazing at the energetic students walking through the academy's gates.
There was a trace of anticipation in his heart because he knew the heir of the Campbell family would enter the academy through those very gates.
What he hoped to see was a young man as radiant as the Lion King, someone who would once again shine in this institution.
But then...
When the blond boy, surrounded by a cluster of maids, stepped down from the griffin-pulled carriage and entered his sight, he felt a profound disappointment.
Because just one glance told him everything about the boy.
He was no different from the numerous noble offspring that filled this academy—arrogant, conceited, eyes perpetually looking down on others. He carried the stench of money, the affected airs unique to nobility, and nothing of substance within his head.
Later on, the actions of that Campbell boy confirmed his judgment.
If described in four words, it would be: *hopeless mess, utterly useless*.
After multiple failed attempts to correct him, the old man had finally given up.
But who would have thought...
Professor Pulan stole a glance at the current Moen.
In the end, it was his own judgment that had been mistaken.
---
"So my father was this impressive during his academy days?"
Hearing Professor Pulan’s description of his father, Moen exclaimed in surprise.
He had always thought, based on rumors, that every generation of the Campbells were unabashed brutes through and through.
"Bravery driven by strength is called courage; recklessness born of weakness is merely foolishness. Coincidentally, every Duke of the Campbell line has never lacked strength," Professor Pulan calmly explained, as if seeing through Moen's thoughts.
"Ah, I see." Moen scratched his head.
That made sense.
A man capable of holding the position of Duke, securing a marriage alliance with the Emperor’s daughter for his son, and commanding the army stationed at the border could hardly be a mere brute.
But still...
Could it be that even such an exceptional man could be blinded by excessive love, to the point of spoiling his son into uselessness?
Ah, the burden of being a parent...
Moen couldn’t help but sigh.
"So, Professor Pulan, you don’t dislike me because I only managed to learn a single Lighting Spell last semester?"
Moen followed up with a question.
*Crack!*
The moment Moen finished speaking, he noticed Professor Pulan’s figure suddenly stiffen.
"Of course not. How could I resent you over something so trivial? After all, as far as the Campbell family’s magical aptitude and talent are concerned, I had already tempered my expectations," Professor Pulan replied, his tone still calm and collected, giving nothing away.
"Even your exceptional father never once passed any magical tests during his academy years. The only spell he ever successfully learned was one that could make flowers bloom—a spell he mastered solely to woo your mother."
"Is that so? So Father was also a magic-idiot, huh. Haha..."
"But even so, it took him only two weeks to learn the Lighting Spell."
Turning back, Professor Pulan’s face was expressionless, but his voice carried a subtle chill.
And if one observed closely, they would notice that the five fingers gripping his cane had left clear impressions on the wooden shaft.
"For the record, it only took the family cat three days to learn that same spell under my guidance."
"......"
Not resentful? It felt like he was seconds away from swinging his cane at him!
Moen felt as if a giant red "danger" symbol might appear above his head at any moment. He began brainstorming ways to beg for mercy that wouldn’t tarnish the dignity of a Duke’s son if the Professor really decided to whack him here and now.
"That being said... I must admit, you’ve changed, Moen Campbell."
In the end, Professor Pulan did nothing. He merely heaved a long sigh, then turned and resumed walking deeper into the corridor.
"To have improved your beginner's magic theory score to this extent within a single month... I believe for you, the so-called Campbell family curse against magic can be easily broken.
You may even surpass your father to become the most outstanding Duke of the Campbell family in history."
"Now that feels like a bit of an exaggeration," Moen said, somewhat sheepishly, surprised by the unexpected praise.
"Does it?" Professor Pulan remarked. "In the past, I would have been certain of it. But after witnessing your transformation, I’ve begun to doubt these eyes of mine, old and failing as they are.
Still..."
Suddenly, his tone shifted.
"I never expected, Moen Campbell, that you would make such a choice."
"Huh?"
A question mark appeared over Moen's head as he stared in confusion at Professor Pulan’s back.
Then realization dawned—was Professor Pulan referring to... Teacher Mela?
"The path pursued by Mentor Mela Dormir... While I don’t know its details, it is certainly not a bright and straightforward one.
And for you, Moen Campbell, the son of a duke with limitless prospects ahead of you, it is not a path worth choosing."
Professor Pulan’s voice was steady as he continued:
"You could have had a better, more stable choice. If what you desire is strength, the Campbell family’s inheritance can satisfy.
All you needed was to proceed step by step, steadily and diligently.
Even if beginner’s magic theory remained your weakest subject, with only a pitiful three points, your accomplishments in martial arts would undoubtedly reach the Crowned Stage. You were destined to become a 'Crowned Champion.’ It was practically guaranteed.
Even if you dislike the name ‘brute,’ as the son of a duke, your resources and starting point already far outstrip ordinary people. If you could channel even a fraction of the grit and determination you’ve shown over this past month into another path, your future achievements would still be remarkable.
Yet, you seem to be in a rush—rush to the point of piquing curiosity..."
Professor Pulan turned back once again, his aged but still perceptive eyes carrying a probing light.
"As the heir of the Campbell family, the future pillar of the Empire, and even the potential consort of the Imperial Princess herself...
Moen Campbell, what is it that you are so afraid of?"
"I..."
Confronted with Professor Pulan's question, Moen’s lips parted silently.
Afraid of what?
It was nothing other than the weight of destiny.
If he could, he wouldn’t push himself so hard. He’d rather walk step by step toward a bright future, marry the person he loves amidst the cathedral’s bell tolls and rose petals, and live peacefully.
He also wanted to be a mediocre son of a duke, to wait until his father was old or ready to retire, then he himself would take over, gain the Campbell family legacy, and go through life with the legendary Campbell surname.
He wanted to live.
He wanted happiness.
It was that simple.
But destiny didn’t allow for simplicity.
Destiny didn’t permit someone like him—a blond-haired villain—to exist in the original trajectory of the story.
He was meant to die. Not just once, but over and over.
And what he faced wasn’t something the name "Campbell" could overcome.
The prophetic dream hung like a blade over his neck, urging him to press forward without pause.
So he had to take a path less traveled.
Even if that path led into a mist-shrouded uncertainty...
He had to try. He had to throw everything he had into the attempt—
—to fight against destiny.
"It seems you’ve made up your mind."
Observing Moen—the molten determination in his eyes, bubbling like lava—Professor Pulan turned back around.
"If that’s the case, I won’t press further. After all, even as your teacher, the final decision rests with you."
Professor Pulan raised a hand and placed it against a precise, mechanical device nearby.
With the groaning of steel machinery, a towering gate, as though reaching into the heavens, slowly opened before Moen.
Blinding light poured through, spilling into the darkness where Moen stood, forcing him to squint as he struggled to make out the path ahead.
"Go ahead then."
Professor Pulan’s voice resounded:
"Tutor Mela Dormir is waiting for you, Moen Campbell."
