บท 32: Karna Mishra [1]
"Leon, there are people staring at you," Aaron said, as he noticed the hostile glares directed toward Ivan.
"I know," Ivan replied calmly, seemingly unbothered.
Aaron's expression darkened. "Are they causing trouble? Do you want me to handle them?"
Aaron had been instructed by his father to eliminate anyone who posed a threat to Ivan, and he wasn't opposed to carrying out that order. He was more than willing to get his hands dirty.
For a brief moment, Ivan considered how ironic it was. He had been the one who insisted they avoid unnecessary conflict, especially with other students. Yet now, Aaron was offering to do just that—on his behalf. Still, Ivan held his tongue.
"Leave them," Ivan replied, his tone dismissive. He really didn't care about a few murderous stares, as long as no one dared to act on them.
Aaron nodded obediently. "Understood."
With that said, their focus shifted back to Eline, who was addressing the gathered students.
"As I mentioned earlier, each of you will have the opportunity to choose up to three weapons crafted from White Amber. These are free and of the highest quality. The stalls around you are run by different manufacturers, all offering their finest. Ultimately, it's your decision which suits you best."
She paused, her gaze sweeping over the students to emphasize her next point. "These will be the only weapons you are permitted to carry within the Academy of Ocryphia. Any unauthorized weapons are strictly forbidden. If you possess a Phantasma, make sure it's registered with the administration. That's all. Choose wisely. And one more thing—if anyone is foolish enough to steal, consider that a one-way ticket out of the academy."
As soon as she finished, the silence broke. The previously still crowd of students erupted into motion, scattering in all directions toward the various weapon stands. Excited chatter filled the air as they hurried to find the perfect weapon for themselves.
"What's our plan, Leon?" Aaron asked, looking to Ivan for direction.
Ivan didn't respond immediately. It wasn't that he didn't know what to do—he knew exactly what needed to be done. He was simply sifting through his memories, confirming a crucial detail from the novel.
Once he was certain, a small smile crept onto his face. Without a word, he turned and headed toward a specific stand.
***
"Hey guys! Over here, come take a look at my weapons!"
"You're going to love them, I promise!"
"Just one glance, please!"
"I beg you!"
The desperate cries echoed across the bustling exhibition hall, but no one paid any attention to the young man standing before his modest stall. His slightly tanned skin gleamed with sweat, and his dark hair clung to his forehead as he called out again, his voice cracking under the strain. He looked almost pitiful, and yet, no students approached.
Karna, the owner of the stand, couldn't understand why. He had worked tirelessly for this moment, for this chance to display his weapons at the prestigious Ocryphia Academy. But as he watched the crowds pass him by without so much as a glance, frustration gnawed at him.
If anyone bothered to look closely, the answer was obvious. His weapons, though crafted with immense care, were plain and unadorned. In contrast, the surrounding stands gleamed with beautiful designed weapons, all polished to perfection, their craftsmanship almost blinding in their brilliance. The competition was fierce, and Karna's simple display was overshadowed by the flashier exhibits.
But Karna wasn't ready to give up. He continued shouting into the crowd, his voice growing hoarse as he tried to gather even a single customer. He had spent the last three years working relentlessly for this moment, striving to earn a spot in Ocryphia Academy's highly coveted exhibition. Finally, this year, his efforts had been rewarded. A teacher at the academy had noticed his work and extended the invitation—a miracle for someone like him, who didn't even own a proper company.
Karna's heart had soared when he received the news. For someone without resources or a recognized brand, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Yet, now that he was here, reality hit him hard. The other exhibitors—well-established companies with substantial budgets—had flooded the hall with sleek displays and mountains of expertly crafted weapons. Karna, by comparison, had a pitiful collection.
Turning, he glanced behind him at the table. Only eight weapons lay there, arranged with as much care as he could manage. Eight. That was all he could offer, compared to the hundreds that the larger companies boasted.
It wasn't that he lacked the skill to make more; it was time that eluded him. Each of those eight weapons represented countless hours of painstaking labor, each one forged through sweat, and blood. They were the best he could create, his heart and soul poured into the cold metal. But still, the crowd walked by, indifferent to the work he had sacrificed so much to produce.
'If only one of the top students would pick one…' Karna thought, his hope dwindling. If he could just get one of them to wield his weapons, maybe—just maybe—his small, practically nonexistent brand, Astral Corp, could begin to make a name for itself.
Clenching his fists, Karna lowered his head. "Father... what can I do?" He muttered, the words escaping his lips in a broken whisper. His father's dream had always been to build the greatest weapons company in the world, to share their craft with others and leave behind a legacy of artistry. But now, Karna stood alone, struggling to fulfill that dream.
He wasn't ready to give up, not yet. Even as his hastily constructed stand creaked under the weight of the wind and disdainful glares from passersby, he held on. His stand might have been humble—shoddily built in a rush—but his dream, his father's dream, was worth fighting for.
And so, despite the sneers and dismissive glances, Karna continued to call out, his voice straining, hoping that someone—anyone—would take notice.
Eventually, Karna felt a sharp pain in his throat, his voice growing raspy from overuse.
"D-Damn it..." He muttered, reaching for a bottle of water and gulping down a few mouthfuls to soothe the discomfort. As he set the bottle down and turned around, he was startled to find two figures standing nearby.
"Oh?!"
Karna blinked, caught off guard at first, but then his surprise quickly shifted into excitement. His eyes lit up with hope and happiness.
"W-Welcome!" He stammered, his voice bright despite the hoarseness.
"We're interested in your weapons," Aaron started with a smile.
Karna nearly felt his knees go weak at the kindness in the man's voice.
'He isn't looking down on me! He's actually interested in my work!'
The thought made Karna's heart soar.
"With pleasure! Please, take a look at anything you like," Karna said eagerly, moving behind his small stall. He stood there, nervous but hopeful, as the two strangers examined his wares.
The quieter of the two, a man with an aloof and brooding demeanor, seemed far more interested by the weapons themselves. There were eight in total: three swords, a bow, two spears, and two daggers.
Karna's heart raced when the asocial man picked up a sword. His dark eyes scrutinized every inch of the blade, turning it over slowly in his hands. Karna held his breath, watching intently. Then, just barely, the man's lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile.
'He's pleased! He's actually pleased!'
Karna had to fight the overwhelming urge to shout, "Do you like it?!". Instead, he clamped his mouth shut, doing his best to remain calm.
Meanwhile, the more approachable man, Aaron, simply observed his companion with a quiet curiosity. Aaron didn't fully understand why Ivan had chosen to visit such a modest, overlooked shop, but he trusted blindly Ivan's instincts. There had to be something special here.
"What's your name?" Ivan finally asked, now testing the tension of the bowstring, assessing its quality with an expert's touch.
"M-Me?" Karna stuttered, momentarily thrown by the question. "Karna... Mish—no, wait—Karna Bleich," He corrected himself awkwardly, his nerves betraying him.
"Bleich?" Ivan's voice remained casual, though his gaze sharpened slightly. "You're from New Earth?"
The name 'Bleich' could have originated from either Arcadia or New Earth, due to the mass migration thousands of years ago. But to Karna's growing anxiety, it was clear that Ivan already knew more than he was letting on. He seemed to know exactly where Karna came from.
"Ahaha… yes…" Karna laughed nervously, averting his eyes.
'It's over.'
Karna could barely hold back the tears threatening to spill. The realization hit him like a blow to the gut. He had worked so hard to get this far, but now it felt like everything was crumbling.
Smiths from New Earth had a terrible reputation in Arcadia. People there looked down on them—especially those from New Earth's peaceful lands. Their weapons weren't considered battle-hardened or reliable, simply because their world lacked the same violent history. To Arcadians, New Earth's craftsmen were seen as inferior.
"But your skin tone... You're from the Golden Lands of Indra."
Karna's breath hitched in his throat. His heart felt like it had stopped.
"...!"
His entire body tensed as Ivan's words sank in. His face went pale, the blood draining from it as panic set in.
"Uh... not really..." Karna stammered, his voice trembling, unable to string together a coherent excuse.
He had kept his origins a secret for good reason. If anyone discovered where he was truly from, and words spread, it would spell disaster—not just for him, but for his mother as well. His mind worked, trying to figure out how Ivan could have known. How had he guessed so easily?
Karna had no way of knowing that Ivan's knowledge wasn't just from observation. Ivan had read the story. He knew far more than Karna could have imagined.
Sure, Karna's olive skin tone wasn't entirely inexistent on New Earth, but Ivan's memories of Yvan's time on Earth allowed him to recognize the subtle differences. Karna's complexion was strikingly similar to those from the South Asian regions—if such places had existed in New Earth's history as South Asia didn't exist in New Earth.
However, Karna's skin was just a shade lighter, a clue that his heritage was mixed. Ivan quickly deduced that Karna's mother was likely from New Earth, while his father must have been from Arcadia's distant lands.
In Arcadia, there was a remote or rather one of the strongest Empires of Arcadia on a faraway continent where some people shared Karna's distinct complexion. Ivan recalled this vividly because it was linked to an important storyline that was yet to unfold—a Major Arc in the saga that would take Mordred there.
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