Royal Reboot: Level up, Your Majesty!

Chapter 66: The Weight of the Blade (3)

The Weight of the Blade 

3

“Your appearance…”

Astra saw the fireball coming before it even left his hands. She dropped low, the heat rushing past as she rolled onto one knee.

A fraction of a second later, she struck.

Her palm found his ankle, her other hand hooked his knee. One sharp pull. He stumbled, barely catching himself before hitting the ground.

“…will make it easy for you to blend in…”

“Why haven’t you used your power yet?” he spat, his eyes flashing with rage. “Are you looking down on—”

She already stepped into his space in a blink. Two fingers to the carotid sinus. Precise pressure. His eyes rolled back, and he crumpled.

“…as just another Gifted student.”

Silence. Then, gasps rippled through the crowd.

Dean Saito, his usually impassive face betraying a rare flicker of shock, stepped forward. His eyes drifted between Astra and her unconscious opponent before he finally spoke.

“The winner of this round is… Astra Elite.” His voice carried through the arena, but there was a hesitance to it, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had witnessed. “Congratulations on advancing to B-Class… without demonstrating your arcane ability."

“I did," she muttered, brushing dust from her sleeves. "How else did I win?"

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heels and strode off, ignoring the lingering stares. She barely heard Dean Saito announce the end of the match.

Her fingers clenched at her sides. Blend in? 

No. 

She wasn’t meant to blend in. She was forced to stand out.

It turned out the Council hadn’t just approved her undercover mission at St. Kevin’s: they had engineered it. Perfect timing, perfect opportunity. A chance to tip the balance against the Van Nassaus.

And to get close to Athena Van Nassau, first, she had to secure her place in A-Class.

The problem? Her blade, once drawn, was meant to kill. Blunt edges didn’t exist in her world.

This mission was an impossible contradiction.

Except…

On her way out, her gaze caught on a rack of wooden practice swords, abandoned near the edge of the training grounds. Her mind raced through the possibilities, calculating.

Not entirely impossible.

What was truly impossible, however, was figuring out Eydis.

She remained an enigma. They hadn’t been assigned the same room at first—Astra had enrolled later than the rest. But that hadn’t stopped her from watching. From observing.

And the girl was… 

not at all what she had imagined.

“Hey, four-eyed freak, where’s the chem homework?”

Tiffany, a blonde with too much confidence and too little grace, cornered Eydis by the lockers. Astra caught the way Tiffany swallowed, the quick flick of her gaze toward her friends, searching for… validation?

Interesting.

The boy beside her acted first, shoving Eydis hard against the metal. Astra’s body tensed, a reflexive step forward. Then, she stopped.

She remained still. Watching. Studying.

Waiting.

For something—anything—to break the illusion. A hint of deception. A sign of hidden strength. But there was nothing.

No controlled breath preparing for retaliation. No subtle shift in stance hinting at restrained power. No ripple of arcane in the air.

Nothing at all. 

Just fear. Just the sound of Eydis gasping, her breath stuttering as if the impact had knocked the air from her lungs. Her fingers trembled around the books she clutched. A quiet whimper slipped past her lips before she swallowed it back.

Astra spoke before she had fully decided to. She wasn’t sure why. She simply didn’t like what she saw.

“Enough.”

Tiffany turned, brows raised. “Who the hell are you?” Then her eyes dropped to Astra’s pin, and she hesitated. “A B-Class? Stay out of this.”

“I wasn't aware I took orders from you.”

Tiffany scoffed. “Just because you’re some unknown Gifted student doesn’t mean you can—”

Eydis interrupted. “H-here’s the homework.” Her voice was small. She extended the paper with unsteady hands. “Sorry.”

Tiffany snatched it and stalked off, her entourage in tow.

Astra had spent years reading people: catching the micro-expressions, the subtle tells that said more than words. But Eydis... she was either the most skilled actor Astra had ever encountered, or she was exactly what she appeared to be.

“Y-You shouldn't have stepped in." Eydis kept her eyes on the floor. "It'll just make things worse. The Blackwoods... no one can touch them. And I don't—"

She hesitated, then lifted her head, pressing her glasses firmly against the bridge of her nose.

Amber eyes met crimson. Eydis drew a sharp breath and colour lit her face.

Astra blinked. She had seen it many times and knew what it meant. Could this clumsy teen really be the woman who once radiated something ancient, dangerous, allur—no, insidious? The one who had called herself Pride?

Had Astra spent all this time chasing a ghost, building her purpose on an illusion? What if Pride had never existed at all? 

The thought widened the fracture in the foundation of everything she believed. Her entire existence had narrowed to a single goal only to find it was a mirage.

She told herself to drop it, walk away, release the past and Pride. She knew the truth wouldn’t rewrite her history, erase what she was, cleanse the blood from her hands, or unmake the thing she had become. She had thought this mission would bring her answers. Instead, it had taken something from her. 

Hope.

Her only escape was the greenhouse she had asked him to build, a place to breathe when her grip on control slipped. She worked the soil there every single day for two years, speaking less and listening more.

Then, one day, Eydis changed.

At first it was subtle: a sharper gleam in her eye, an edge to her smile, a layered, cryptic cadence to her voice. She quit looking at Astra like distant starlight and started watching her the way a cat studies a flame, half curious, half delighted.

It should have sounded alarms. 

Instead, Astra found herself watching, not because she suspected Eydis of being Pride, but because she couldn’t stop. She caught herself memorizing the shape of Eydis’s words, smiling at their absurdity, noting the grace with which she filled every space…

And invaded hers.

She noticed every glance, every smirk, every perfectly timed pause. She told herself to ignore it, but she kept noticing.

As if drawn.  

As if compelled.  

As if… 

Captivated.

She had lived so long in emotional twilight, her feelings muted and distant as if belonging to someone else. But now she knew exactly what she felt. Present. Real. Like waking from a long, heavy sleep. 

She wondered whether this feeling had always been waiting. Whether disconnection had been the lie all along.

A stormy night finally changed everything. 

Rain lashed against her helmet until she removed it, thunder rolling across the sky like a warning: Turn back. She didn't. She couldn't. Her instincts screamed that she was running out of time.

And everything that could go wrong, did.

Her heels barely made a sound on the wet grass, but her thoughts were a hurricane. And there stood Eydis, illuminated by violet light and lightning alike—

She didn’t just look like Pride. 

She was Pride.

The realisation nearly knocked the breath from Astra’s lungs. Her grip tightened around her blades to keep them from trembling. And for the first time…

The weight of the blades in her hands felt unbearable.

When Eydis collapsed, Astra lunged to catch her. Warmth spread across her hand—blood, thick and terrifying. Eydis clutched at Astra’s jacket, fingers trembling. 

No. Astra fumbled for her phone; the call connected, then— “Miss Astra, I’m sorry! We've got a situation in New York—" 

Shouting, footsteps, then silence.

“Fuck!”

Focus. Astra pressed harder against Eydis’s wound, blood slipping through her fingers. She had seen death, even delivered it, but this was different.

“Eydis.” Her voice wavered. “Fuck! Stay with me!”

Thunder cracked again. Rain thudded against her jacket, but it felt like it could reach her bones. Eydis’s breathing grew shallow, her lips pale and quivering.

Astra scrambled for her phone again. But where was it? She couldn’t think, couldn’t—

Then the fingers clinging weakly to Astra’s jacket fell away. Something inside Astra snapped.

It wasn’t a decision. It wasn’t even thought. Light, gold and living, poured from her palm. For once it didn’t feel destructive. It burned, yet felt gentle, pulsing with her heartbeat as if it had always waited for this moment.

Life, not death.

Gathering Eydis into her arms, she held her closer, barely aware of the rain washing through her hair, down her cheeks. But it wasn’t just the storm soaking them. It was something warmer, hotter.

She pressed her glowing hand to the wound. The light flared, then sank into torn flesh; bleeding slowed, then stopped. Colour slowly returned to Eydis’s face. She stirred, and the metallic stench faded beneath the scent of lavender shampoo Astra had noticed a hundred casual times and never admitted she liked.

For the first time since that rainy night in the alley—since the first time she had ever taken a life—

She felt it. She understood what she was meant to be.

A killer. That part wouldn’t change. But also… 

A healer.  

A walking paradox.

But had she ever meant to hurt Eydis? Even if… even if she was Pride? 

Her answer was in the way her arms tightened around Eydis, in the way she held on like she could keep her safe. It was the same instinct that had led her here, that had shown her the truth her heart had always feared to explore.

Astra’s voice was unexpectedly raw against Eydis’s ear. “You don’t know what I want, Eydis.”