Skill Forge: Broken Extra Character-Chapter 187 : Should have Listened

Freya sat silently on her bed, her eyes fixed on the door Jett had just exited through. Her gaze lingered, but she wasn't seeing the present anymore. Her thoughts wandered, and she remained there, lost in a quiet haze.

Her mind began to drift back, further and further, until she found herself submerged in a memory from years ago.

Inside the grand Silvermoon mansion, the halls bustled with maids moving frantically, their expressions tense. It was a chaotic scene, with servants searching every nook and cranny, but all their efforts had been in vain.

In the central corridor, the maids regrouped, frustration etched across their faces.

"Where could she be?" one of the younger maids exclaimed, pulling at her hair in frustration.

"We had one job!" another said, pacing back and forth, her fingers chewing at her nails.

"It's not our fault the bratty kid won't listen," the third maid muttered, her tone venomous. "I swear, all these kids born to nobility are a special breed of trouble."

Unbeknownst to them, a young and tiny Freya sat curled up inside a secret compartment beneath a table mere feet away. The cleverly hidden space was one of her favorite hiding spots, and from her vantage point, she could clearly see and hear everything the maids were saying.

Her small fingers clutched her knees tightly as their words cut into her like a sharp blade.

"Now, now, that's not true," came the calm voice of the head maid as she entered the corridor. She was older, her face lined with experience, and she carried an air of authority. "She's a good kid. She's just scared."

The head maid's gaze swept across the room, and for the briefest moment, her eyes flicked toward the tiny hole in the table where Freya peered out. Their eyes met for a split second, and the older woman offered a soft, knowing smile.

The other maids, however, still wore sour expressions, clearly unhappy about having to search for her.

"Alright, enough complaining," the head maid said with a clap of her hands, her tone firm. "Keep searching before the patriarch realizes his precious daughter is missing."

The urgency in her voice spurred the maids into action, and they dispersed to continue their search.

Once the corridor fell silent, the head maid, Bell, returned and gently knocked on the table's edge. "Alright, little one. Come out now."

Freya hesitated only for a moment before complying. Crawling out from the hidden compartment, she dusted herself off.

Apart from her parents and her uncle, Bell was the only person Freya truly listened to. In many ways, Bell was more than just a maid to her, she was a second mother, someone who knew her better than anyone else and always seemed to understand her unspoken thoughts.

"You ran away again," Bell sighed, crouching down to scoop Freya into her arms.

Freya folded her arms and sulked, her head resting against Bell's shoulder. "I hate learning attack magic. I can't even do it, and I hate the way my teacher and everyone else looks at me when I fail."

Bell chuckled softly at her stubbornness. "So, you won't go back even if I ask nicely?"

"Nope," Freya replied with attitude. "I'm not going, Bell. I'd rather spend my whole day reading books."

"Oh dear," Bell teased, her tone light but laced with affection. "Someone's growing wings now, aren't they?"

Freya pouted, turning her head defiantly. She was determined not to let Bell drag her back to her magic teacher. Seeing that her usual coaxing wouldn't work, Bell smiled mischievously and led Freya down a different path.

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After a short walk, they stopped before a towering, a fancy door made of shiny wood with golden decorations.

"What are we doing here?" Freya asked, her curiosity piqued.

"You said you wanted to read, right?" Bell replied with a knowing smirk. She pushed the door open, revealing the grand Silvermoon library, a vast hall lined with shelves that stretched endlessly toward the ceiling, filled with thousands of books. Freya's eyes widened in awe.

"If you promise to go back to your teacher, then you can read as many books as you want," Bell offered. She knew the temptation was one Freya couldn't resist.

"Even that one?" Freya asked, pointing to a particular book displayed at the center of the library. It was encased in transparent glass and secured with adamantium chains that seemed almost alive, glowing faintly with protective enchantments.

Bell laughed and shook her head. "All except that one. Not like you could break the seal, anyway. Ignore it… it's just full of scary texts and dangerous things you wouldn't understand."

Freya's lips curled into a sly smile. "So, I get this whole place to myself? Alright, then. It's a fair trade!"

Bell patted her head. "Good girl. Now, enjoy, but remember our deal."

Back in the present, Freya blinked as the memory faded. Her focus returned to the door Jett had walked through, her expression softening.

"I should've listened to Bell," she murmured under her breath. Her fingers clenched slightly at her sides, her voice trembling as she added, "I'm sorry, Jett."

She turned away, curling up and hiding under her mattress.

*****

In Clarence's office Jett moved around with ease, sorting through scattered items and reorganizing them into neat piles. His nimble hands worked efficiently, placing books and scrolls back into their designated spots. His quiet humming betrayed an uncharacteristically light mood, which didn't go unnoticed.

"You seem awfully cheerful today," Clarence remarked from behind his desk, his sharp eyes studying Jett.

"What do you mean?" Jett asked, not pausing his work. He seemed genuinely perplexed, brushing off Clarence's observation while still sorting items.

Clarence leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile playing at his lips. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but something feels different. Never mind that, though. How prepared are you for the festival?"

Without missing a beat, Jett quipped, "I thought old age was supposed to teach patience. Isn't the festival still six months away?" He finally turned to face Clarence, an eyebrow raised in mock amusement.

Clarence chuckled and shook his head. "Respect, Jett. You could at least try to show some respect. Besides, I still look young for my age."

"Sure, if you say so." Jett smirked, returning to his task.

Clarence's expression grew more thoughtful. "Ah, yes. Speaking of things that caught my attention, I'm curious about your recent request to leave the academy."

Jett froze mid-motion, his hands still holding a stack of scrolls. He hadn't expected that question. He glanced at Clarence briefly before continuing his task as if unaffected. "Well, it's personal," he replied, his tone guarded.

"That's not a good enough answer," Clarence pressed, leaning forward. "I need to know why I'm sending one of my students into the wild, away from the academy's safety."

Jett's lips tightened, his reluctance palpable. He shrugged casually, trying to deflect. "Isn't it already normal for academy students to venture out? Exploration's part of the program, right?"

"Yes, but only for third-years who've proven themselves exceptionally capable," Clarence countered firmly. "And even then, there are protocols and reasons. Your case is… different. I need to consider a lot of factors, Jett."

Jett remained silent, his eyes narrowing slightly as he realized Clarence wasn't going to drop the matter easily. The atmosphere in the room shifted slightly, the earlier levity fading into something more serious.

Jett's hands stilled momentarily, a book held loosely in his grip. He glanced toward Clarence, exhaling through his nose as if preparing himself for a tedious conversation.

"Experience," Jett muttered, putting the book on the shelf without sparing Clarence a glance.

"Experience?" Clarence echoed, leaning forward in his chair. He had clearly expected something more profound. "That's it? Why?"

Jett placed another scroll on the desk before finally turning to face him, his eyes sharp yet calm. "What's stopping you guys from making me graduate early if I do too well?"

Clarence frowned, his fingers drumming against the desk. He considered the question seriously, his gaze distant for a moment.

"That's a possibility," Clarence admitted slowly, his tone contemplative. "But you could end up a teacher here. Wouldn't that be nice? Passing down your knowledge to the next generation?"

Jett let out a soft, humorless laugh. "I guess so, but…"

"You want to get stronger," Clarence interrupted with a smirk, leaning back in his chair.

Jett paused, meeting his gaze, and then allowed a small, defeated smile to cross his face. "You got me. Yeah, that's what I want."

Setting the book in his hand onto Clarence's desk, Jett sank into the chair opposite him. He laced his fingers together, leaning forward slightly. "I want to… I need to get stronger."

Clarence's expression grew more serious. "Why do you want to get stronger?"

Jett hesitated, glancing down at the sword resting at his side. His fingers brushed its hilt lightly before he spoke. "I don't want to lose anyone. And I want to protect the people I care about."

Clarence sighed, his disappointment subtle but clear as he leaned his elbow on the desk, resting his chin in his palm. "Is that it? Is that really all you want?"

Jett's brows furrowed, his confusion evident. "I don't understand."

Clarence chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I keep forgetting sometimes, you're still just a child."

Jett bristled slightly at the remark, his posture stiffening. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Clarence said, his tone shifting into something more akin to a teacher's lecturing voice, "you're looking at the world through the lens of a noble cause, but you're forgetting that strength isn't the only thing you need. Purpose, wisdom, patience, those are what separate the strong from the truly great."

Jett sat back in his chair, mulling over the words with a quiet intensity.

"Strength alone," Clarence continued, "can protect people. But if you don't have the right perspective, the right values, or even the right motivations, that strength could easily become a burden or worse, a danger."

Jett's gaze shifted between Clarence and the sword, his expression thoughtful. "So what do you think I should do?"

Clarence smiled faintly. "I think you should go on your little quest, Jett. Get your experience, find your answers. But while you're out there, don't just focus on getting stronger. Learn why strength matters."

Jett's lips curved into a small smirk. "Old age and wisdom? You really are full of surprises."

Clarence chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a mock look of exasperation. "And you're still insufferable. Get out of my office already."

Jett rose, grabbing his things and heading for the door. But as he stepped out, he glanced over his shoulder, his smirk softening into something more genuine. "Thank you sir."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Clarence to stare at the desk with a pensive smile. "You're welcome, kid. Try not to do anything stupid."

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