"I saw the genius work," they said with pride that bordered on arrogance. "I was there when he remade an artifact with pure mana."

Some of the former peasants that Ren had elevated with his cultivation methods and others he had saved in the war began openly calling him "the Messiah" again, a title that had appeared and disappeared from gossip for years but now returned with renewed force.

The word spread through common districts like wildfire. "The Messiah broke the rules again," they whispered over market stalls. "He made the impossible possible, like always."

But then there were the skeptics.

"Theater," they insisted, voices dripping with contempt for those 'gullible enough to believe'. "Selphira and the castle are always inventing things with the boy to divert attention from their own political moves."

"It's convenient, isn't it?" another noble would add, swirling wine in expensive crystal. "Just when us, the derogatorily called 'opportunistic nobles' are gaining ground, suddenly Selphira's protégé, really her granddaughter's 'toy', does something 'miraculous'."

"The emblem was probably already prepared. They switched it with illusion magic or some similar trick. They could do that easily."

The Starweaver night faction, led by Luna's uncles, was particularly vocal in their skepticism. They had the most to lose from Ren's continued success, their claims on Luna's territory weakening with each demonstration of her allies' competence.

"We've never had much contact with the Patinder boy," Lord Dorian Starweaver declared in a meeting of nobles, his voice carrying aristocratic disdain. "Why? Because he's obviously just a play that Selphira, Sirius's former master, wants us to believe."

His tone suggested anyone who disagreed was a fool.

"Exactly," his brother, Lord Magnus, added with a sneer. "She trained Sirius, who miraculously disappeared, freeing us from having to use the artifacts on him. But then this... peasant with convenient power appears that she 'discovers'. And now he can repair artifacts? Please... She just wants to buy time hoping Sirius returns or the three idiot brothers become stronger miraculously."

"It's fabrication," Lord Orion concluded. "All to keep Luna under her influence and prevent us from taking our legitimate place leading the complete Starweaver faction."

The division was clear. Those who had seen versus those who hadn't. Those who had felt versus those who speculated. Belief versus cynicism.

And in the middle of all this, Ren simply tried to continue with his normal classes, trying to ignore the stares that followed him through the hallways. Some with adoration that made him uncomfortable. Others with suspicion that made him wary. All with intense curiosity that made privacy impossible.

"It's exhausting," he confessed to Min one night, slumping onto his bed with genuine fatigue. "I feel eyes on me all the time."

"Welcome to fame," Min responded with a smile that was sympathetic but also slightly amused. "Although I admit, breaking and repairing an artifact in your final exam was a bit... dramatic. Even for you."

"I didn't plan it," Ren protested, his voice muffled by his pillow.

"I know. But that almost makes it better. It means you're so abnormally powerful that even your accidents are spectacular."

"Ugh, you make it sound even worse... I'll start practicing invisibility like you." Ren groaned and buried his face more. "Teach me your ways of being ignored."

Min laughed, the sound genuine and warm. "Sorry, brother. I can't teach you, I think you're… Wait, that sounded good at the start but is an insult to me!"

♢♢♢♢

A bit after the exams, Aldric Galehart found himself in a situation he had never anticipated:

He had no idea how to prepare the next class with Ren.

Aldric sat in the private room they used for lessons, surrounded by books and notes that now seemed completely inadequate. Papers with lesson plans that suddenly felt insultingly basic for someone who apparently could manipulate mana structures at a higher than master level.

How did one apologize for three months of subtle sabotage? Did he grovel? Beg forgiveness? Continue with the "everything is easy, see?" act he'd maintained? Pretend he 'knew' that Ren 'knew' the entire time?

Each option seemed worse than the previous one.

The image he'd had of Ren, the gullible and trusting student, had been completely destroyed. In its place was... what? A genius of incomprehensible level? A master manipulator who had been playing him this entire time? Some combination of both?

Aldric couldn't think clearly. And with each passing minute, he leaned more toward the option of simply groveling and begging that Ren wouldn't destroy him politically or literally.

The boy had power. Real power. The kind that could reshape artifacts. What could he do to a person who'd wronged him?

The classroom door opened without warning.

Aldric straightened abruptly, expecting to see Ren. Instead, Lord Baelthon entered with the confidence of someone accustomed to spaces that didn't belong to him.

Baelthon was from one of the traditional families that had been detractors of the Ashenways for generations. Not open enemies, never that. But always in subtle opposition, always seeking ways to limit Selphira's influence and her faction's power.

"Galehart," Baelthon greeted with a nod, his eyes sweeping across Aldric's disheveled appearance seeming amused. "You look terrible."

"Thank you for the observation," Aldric responded dryly, not bothering to defend himself.

"I heard about your... situation with that Patinder boy," Baelthon sat without invitation, his eyes studying Aldric with calculating interest. "Quite spectacular what he did in the exams."

The words carried multiple layers. False admiration. Concern. Opportunity.

"If you came to rub it in..."

"I came with information," Baelthon interrupted, waving away the objection. "And a proposal."

Aldric blinked, caught off guard. "Information?"

"The Starweavers of the Night faction have said they have a trick prepared for Luna. Something that involves your son Seiya, the Klein boy, or the Jin boy." Baelthon leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the armrest with steady rhythm. "They want you to continue with Ren, but they recognize that if Selphira and Julius's tricks are too complicated, not to worry too much."

"So?"

"Just make sure that Ren boy doesn't get in the way of your son Seiya, Klein, or Jin when the time comes to approach Luna with a contract."

The words were casual, but the implications were massive. They wanted him to keep Ren distracted. Occupied. Unable to interfere with their plans for Luna.

Aldric felt something bitter in his throat. "I've lost all hope of controlling that young man. He's not like the Night Starweavers believe. He's not..."

"Manipulable? Predictable?" Baelthon smiled, the expression carrying knowing amusement. "I see it. Perhaps he's too protected… But that's why they sent me with a different idea so I can help you."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone that made the room suddenly feel smaller.

"Tell me, Galehart. The boy is clearly good in battle. And now we know he's good in politics, or at least at pretending he is. But..." he made a significant pause, letting anticipation build, "he's a teenager. How good do you think he is at love?"

Aldric frowned, confusion replacing some of his anxiety. "Love? What are you...?"

Baelthon leaned closer, whispering something in Aldric's ear. The words were quiet enough that nobody else could have heard, even if there had been anyone else in the room.

Aldric's eyes gradually widened as he listened. His expression shifted from confusion to surprise to dawning understanding. Then, slowly, something like his old calculating smile began forming, tentative at first but growing stronger.

It was a terrible idea. Manipulative. The kind of thing that could backfire spectacularly.

Which was exactly why it might work.

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