novelraw Chapter 137: Ashes Beneath the Pride
Chapter 137: Ashes Beneath the Pride
Ashes Beneath the Pride
Deep inside the Secret Sword Summit right now
Heavy quiet filled the room like a weight. The air held still, thick and unmoving.
A stretch of space opened up inside, its walls made of pale stone that held onto silence instead of heat. Light from a swaying lamp crept down the edges, throwing jagged silhouettes - like fingers frozen mid-grip - over cracked flagstones. Smoke traces clung low, though they couldn’t hide the snap of broken beams or the hush of disturbed grit rising between breaths.
Beside the bed, pieces of a shattered table rested in disarray.
Another one.
Destroyed.
On the bed, Shera slowly opened his eyes.
His breathing was uneven at first, chest rising and falling as if he had just climbed out of deep water. But the moment awareness returned—
So did everything else.
The memory.
The humiliation.
The laughter.
His face turned pale. Then darker.
Then twisted.
Shera sat up abruptly, his robes wrinkled, his hair slightly disheveled—nothing like the composed authority he usually carried. His fingers tightened slowly against the edge of the bed.
That scene...
That moment...
It replayed again and again in his mind.
Leon standing there.
Calm.
Smiling.
Every word spoken like a blade wrapped in silk.
"Damn it! Leon... we are irreconcilable!"
His voice cracked through the chamber like thunder.
He raised his hand and slammed it down.
BANG!
The already damaged table beside him shattered completely, collapsing into splinters that scattered across the floor.
The sound echoed.
Then died.
Silence returned—but heavier now.
Shera didn’t even glance at the mess.
His chest rose sharply, breath uneven. For a few moments, he simply sat there, eyes burning, as if trying to swallow something that refused to go down.
Outside the door—
A group of students stood stiffly.
No one dared speak.
They had already heard everything.
The shout.
The impact.
The anger.
Each of them exchanged uneasy glances, their backs straight, their expressions tight. Some clenched their fists unconsciously. Others lowered their heads.
They knew what was coming.
They were waiting for it.
Inside, Shera closed his eyes briefly, forcing himself to breathe.
Slow.
Heavy.
He needed to regain control.
At least... enough to speak.
"All of you... come in."
His voice was lower now—but no less dangerous.
The moment the words fell, the door opened almost instantly.
The students hurried in, one after another, like prisoners walking into judgment. No one dared meet his eyes. Their steps were careful, restrained.
The atmosphere turned suffocating.
Shera looked at them.
One by one.
His gaze lingered—not just on their faces, but on their posture, their hesitation, their silence.
And that—
That silence made something inside him snap.
"Hmph... a bunch of trash."
His voice was cold now.
Each word dropped like stone.
"My Secret Sword Summit has been shamed today."
No one spoke.
Not a single breath out of place.
"You strut around every day," he continued, his tone rising again, "acting like you’re the number one in the world with just this little ability."
His hand tightened.
"You’re arrogant. Blind. You don’t take anyone seriously."
His eyes sharpened.
"And now?"
A pause.
A heavy one.
"Our Secret Sword Summit has become the laughing stock of the entire academy."
His lips curled slightly.
"Are you happy?"
Still—
Silence.
No one dared answer.
Not because they didn’t have words.
But because none of them believed any word would save them.
Shera’s expression darkened further.
The more they stayed silent...
The more useless they looked.
And the more it burned.
Leon...
That name surfaced again in his mind.
The contrast hit him harder than the defeat itself.
Same position.
Same status.
Both Division leaders.
And yet—
Why?
Why were Leon’s students like that?
Strong.
Calm.
Disciplined.
Even their presence felt... different.
And his?
Shera looked at the group in front of him.
Lowered heads.
Shaking shoulders.
Avoiding eyes.
Useless.
A bitter thought surfaced—
Am I... inferior to him?
The moment that thought appeared, his jaw clenched hard.
No.
Impossible.
Back then—
When he was still a student, he had stood above almost everyone.
Only Headmaster Mike could suppress him.
Only him.
And now?
He had become the leader of Secret Sword Summit.
A peak figure.
And yet his students...
Couldn’t even compare to the weakest division before.
That truth—
Was harder to accept than defeat.
"Teacher... I’m sorry."
A voice finally broke the silence.
The second Secret Sword Summit student stepped forward, his head lowered deeply, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned pale.
"It’s our fault for embarrassing you."
His voice trembled slightly.
"Please... punish us."
He didn’t dare look up.
Not even once.
Shera stared at him.
Long.
Cold.
"Punish you?"
His tone dropped again.
Almost quiet.
But far more dangerous.
"Can punishing you... restore the reputation of my Secret Sword Summit?"
The words cut deep.
The student’s body stiffened.
He had no answer.
Because the answer was obvious.
No.
Nothing would.
Shera turned his gaze away, clearly losing interest.
The anger didn’t disappear.
It just... changed.
From rage—
To something colder.
Something sharper.
In the crowd, Cassie stood quietly.
He didn’t speak.
Didn’t move.
But his eyes—
They were different.
He looked at Shera, at the broken room, at the trembling students...
And something inside him sank.
Deep.
So this... is what it is.
His thoughts were quiet.
Too quiet.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Just... disappointment.
From the beginning, everything had been about reputation.
Face.
Status.
Pride.
Even now—
Not a single word about whether they were injured.
Not a single question about what happened on the stage.
Only shame.
Only humiliation.
Only anger.
Cassie lowered his gaze slightly.
His fingers loosened.
So... in his eyes... we’re just tools.
Tools that either bring glory—
Or embarrassment.
Nothing more.
A faint bitterness spread in his chest.
Why did I choose this place...?
For the first time—
He questioned it.
Truly.
If it had been Amethyst Summit Division...
Would it be different?
He didn’t know.
But one thing was certain.
Here—
There was no warmth.
Only pressure.
Only expectation.
Only... weight.
Shera’s face remained dark.
Just as he was about to speak again—
Footsteps sounded from outside.
Fast.
Urgent.
The door opened.
Shan walked in.
His breathing was slightly rushed, as if he had come in a hurry. There was still a trace of energy lingering around him—the aftermath of a recent battle.
He had just finished crushing his opponent.
Clean.
Decisive.
A victory he would normally be proud of.
But now—
None of that mattered.
The moment he heard Shera had fainted...
Everything else became irrelevant.
His eyes immediately locked onto the figure on the bed.
Relief flashed across his face.
"Father... are you alright?"