ShadowBound: The Need For Power-Chapter 646: The Graduation Ceremony (3)

The reaction was subtle, but it was there.

A visible shift passed through sections of the hall. Some second-years glanced at one another. A few first-years looked confused. Even among the third-years, there were several expressions of mild surprise.

Because it was not Percy.

And yet, from where Percy sat among the graduating students, no displeasure showed in his face. If anything, there was only quiet indifference. Anyone looking carefully enough might even realize he was relieved.

He had absolutely no desire to stand before the entire academy and give a speech today.

De’Ain Looken, on the other hand, rose with a calmness that made the surprise around him feel almost irrelevant.

He carried himself with that same relaxed, almost laid-back presence he was known for. Nothing about him seemed forced. His demeanor was quiet, approachable, and unburdened by the kind of stiffness many would have displayed in front of such an audience. There was no arrogance in the way he moved, nor any false modesty. He simply looked like a man who had accepted what was asked of him and intended to do it properly.

He walked to the stage at an even pace, received a brief nod from Headmaster Thion, and then stepped before the pulpit.

For a moment, he looked out over the hall.

Then De’Ain spoke.

"I’ll be honest," he began, and a few students visibly blinked at how natural his tone sounded, "I wasn’t expecting to be the one standing here either."

A few restrained laughs traveled through the hall, light but respectful.

De’Ain allowed the faintest smile to touch his face before continuing.

"But since I’m here, I’ll try not to waste everyone’s time."

That earned a second, softer reaction.

He rested one hand lightly against the side of the pulpit.

"When people think of graduation speeches, they usually expect something grand. Something polished. Maybe something inspiring enough to make the underclassmen sit up straighter and the faculty nod in approval."

A mild pause.

"I’m not sure I’m the right person for all that."

His calm eyes moved over the students.

"What I can do is speak honestly."

The hall quieted further.

"When we first entered this academy, most of us thought strength was going to be simple. Train hard. Win fights. Rise in rank. Become someone others notice."

His tone never became overly dramatic, and perhaps that was exactly why it worked.

"But after enough time here, you start to realize that isn’t really how it goes."

He glanced briefly toward the third-year section.

"You lose. A lot, sometimes. You get humbled. You realize there’s always someone faster, someone stronger, someone sharper, someone who’s willing to work longer than you thought you had to."

A few of the third-years smirked faintly at that.

"And if you’re lucky," De’Ain continued, "you learn not to let that break you."

He let the words breathe.

"I think that’s what this academy really does to people. It doesn’t just teach you how to fight or how to command myst. It strips away the easy lies you tell yourself."

He looked toward the first-year section now.

"It teaches you whether you can keep going when pride stops being enough."

Then toward the second-years.

"It teaches you whether you can carry expectation without letting it crush you."

Then back to the third-years.

"And eventually, if you stay long enough, it teaches you what kind of person you are when nobody is giving you room to pretend anymore."

The hall was silent in the best possible way.

De’Ain’s speech did not sound rehearsed to impress. It sounded lived.

"To my fellow third-years," he said, "we made it here together, even if not all in the same way. Some of us climbed. Some of us crawled. Some of us were dragged here by stubbornness alone."

That drew a few quiet chuckles.

"But we got here."

He nodded once.

"And that matters."

His expression grew a little more serious.

"We’ve competed against each other, fought each other, judged each other, underestimated each other, and in some cases probably annoyed each other more than necessary."

That earned another light ripple through the hall.

"But all the same, standing here now, I can say this without hesitation."

His voice steadied with quiet conviction.

"It was an honor to train beside you."

That landed deeply.

Then he looked toward the younger students.

"To the ones still remaining in this academy, don’t waste your time trying to become someone else’s version of strong. Learn from others, yes. Respect them, yes. But don’t spend so much energy chasing someone else’s shape that you forget to sharpen your own."

There was something unusually sincere in the way he said it.

"You’ll lose. You’ll get embarrassed. You’ll have days where it feels like the gap between you and where you want to be is too wide to cross."

His faint smile returned.

"Cross it anyway."

He straightened slightly.

"And to the faculty..."

His eyes shifted briefly toward the stage behind him.

"...thank you."

There was no flourish to the word.

Which was exactly why it carried weight.

"Not all of your lessons were pleasant. Some were brutal. Some were exhausting. Some of them felt completely unreasonable at the time."

A few students nearly smiled at that.

"But whether we appreciated it then or not, you made us better."

De’Ain exhaled softly.

"So that’s all I’ll say."

His final words came simply.

"We leave today stronger than when we arrived. Not finished. Just stronger."

Then, with the same approachable calm he had walked in with, he stepped back from the pulpit.

For a heartbeat, there was silence.

Then Headmaster Thion began applauding.

The sound was immediately joined by the faculty.

Then by the students.

Soon the entirety of Beacon Hall was filled with respectful, genuine applause that rolled through the air in waves. De’Ain inclined his head once in acknowledgment, then stepped away from the pulpit and returned to his place among the third-years.

Once the applause had settled, Headmaster Thion resumed his place at the pulpit.

"Thank you, De’Ain Looken," he said formally. "Your words have done credit both to your class and to this academy."

Then his tone shifted from reflective to procedural.

"We now proceed to the formal recognition of the graduating class."

At once, the assistant headmaster, Lucia, rose and opened the polished ceremonial case, producing the documents in careful order. A faculty member moved slightly to one side with a tray prepared for the presentation of certificates.

One by one, the names of the graduating third-years began to be called.

Each student rose, approached the stage, received their certificate, and was acknowledged before the hall. Some were praised briefly for consistency. Others for leadership in their division, excellence in combat application, scholastic distinction, or service to the academy’s reputation. The process was orderly, dignified, and deeply official, exactly as such a ceremony ought to be.

The hall clapped each time with polite respect, some names receiving stronger responses than others depending on reputation and familiarity.

And then, eventually, the name everyone expected came.

"Percy Granger."

Even before Headmaster Thion continued, a subtle shift ran through the hall.

Percy rose from his seat with composed calm.

He looked immaculate in formal uniform, every inch the accomplished senior he had long been recognized as. There was no theatricality in the way he moved, no attempt to draw attention to himself. Yet attention followed him all the same. It always did.

He stepped forward, ascended the stage, and came to stand before the headmaster.

Headmaster Thion regarded him for a moment before speaking, and when he did, his words carried an unmistakable note of earned respect.

"Percy Granger," he said, "you depart this academy as one of the most accomplished students of your generation."

The hall remained still.

"Your record reflects not only consistent excellence in combat performance and field application, but also the discipline, restraint, and maturity expected of one who has carried rank with dignity."

Percy stood silent, composed.

"You have brought honor to your class and distinction to this institution. Your achievements within these walls will not soon be forgotten, and your conduct has set a standard that many will measure themselves against in the years to come."

Then Headmaster Thion presented the certificate.

"Receive this recognition with the respect it has earned."

Percy accepted it with both hands.

"Thank you, Headmaster," he said evenly.

The applause that followed was stronger than polite duty alone.

It was the applause due to someone whose excellence had been witnessed repeatedly and could not honestly be denied, whatever individual feelings others may have carried.

Among the first-years, Sheila’s gaze had locked onto him without wavering. Ariana noticed but said nothing. Liam, farther back, merely observed.

After Percy returned to his seat and the remaining graduates had received their certificates, the final formal acknowledgment of the third-year class came to an end. Headmaster Thion once again stood before the hall, waiting for the last of the applause to fade.

Then he spoke.

"To the graduating class," he said, "Dark Knight Academy acknowledges your labor, your endurance, and your completion of this Chapter. Go forward with honor."

A final respectful wave of applause followed.

Then, as quiet returned once more, Headmaster Thion turned slightly and allowed his gaze to pass over the second-year and first-year sections.

"For those who remain," he said, "today is not yet concluded."

That immediately sharpened attention across the hall.

"Much has been said already. Much has also been demonstrated over the course of this academic year."

He stepped away from the pulpit.

"And so, I now leave the remainder of this ceremony... to Lady Mystica Moonstone."

At once, Mystica rose.

She approached the pulpit with that same effortless grace she seemed incapable of lacking, every movement smooth, poised, and naturally commanding. The faint sound of her heels against the stage floor seemed strangely clear in the silence of the hall. When she reached the pulpit, she rested one elegant hand lightly against its side and let her violet eyes drift across the gathered students.

A faint smile touched her lips.

"Well then," she said, her voice rich and smooth as silk, somehow both warm and dangerous at once, "I do hope all of you have been paying attention."

Not a single student dared speak.

Her smile widened just slightly.

"Because now..."

She let the pause stretch just enough to tighten the air.

"...it is time for the rankings to be announced."