SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

Chapter 543: Chapter 543: The Man Selara Left Behind

Selara uncorked the bottle she had pulled from the shelf and poured herself a narrow glass of something amber and probably expensive enough to offend half the Academy’s budget. She did not drink at once. She rolled the liquid once, held it under her nose, and only afterward allowed herself a small sip.

Trafalgar stayed where he was across from her worktable, waiting.

The laboratory had gone quiet since the revelation about the vial. The machine behind her still hummed, crystal rings turning with lazy precision, but the air had changed. Whatever lightness had lived in this room before was gone. What remained felt older. Sharper. The kind of space where buried things were dragged into the open and made to confess.

Selara rested one hip against the table and exhaled through her nose.

”My master,” she began, ”was a terrible person.”

No hesitation or effort to soften it with nostalgia or gratitude.

”He saved me,” she continued. ”That part is true. Without him, I would have died long before I ever reached this Academy. I owe him my life, which is annoying, because it means I can’t flatten him into a monster and be done with it.”

Trafalgar said nothing.

Selara’s mouth curved faintly, though whatever lived behind that expression wasn’t humor.

”He liked talent. That was one of his worst qualities. If he saw brilliance in someone, he would pull them close, feed them knowledge, sharpen them until they cut, and act as though that generosity erased every ugliness underneath.” She swirled the drink again. ”It didn’t.”

Her voice shed another layer of warmth.

”He experimented on real people, Trafalgar. People dragged into his work because he wanted to see what would happen.” Her fingers tightened around the glass. ”Different bloodlines. Humans. Vampires. Beastkin. Anyone he could reach if the formula in his head demanded a specific reaction.”

The laboratory lights cast pale reflections through the vials nearby. Every single one of them looked different now.

”He was obsessed with limits,” Selara said. ”What the body could survive. What it could be forced to become. How far bloodlines could bend before they broke apart. Healing bored him. Enhancement bored him. Craft was a children’s game. He wanted transformation. He wanted to prove that talent deserved to reach places where law and morality were afraid to follow.”

Trafalgar’s brows drew together.

”And nobody stopped him?”

Selara let out a low, dry laugh.

”People tried. Some disappeared. Others backed away once they understood the cost of standing near him. A handful were bought. Men like that survive longer than they should because usefulness shields them from the judgment that would bury anyone else.” She turned the glass between her fingers. ”Eventually, though, he reached far enough to provoke the wrong people.”

Trafalgar’s voice cut in.

”Who?”

Selara met his stare without blinking.

”The Vaelion,” she said. ”The human house of mages.”

That changed something in him at once. A wire pulled taut behind his expression.

”It was more than one hundred twenty years ago,” Selara went on. ”I remember enough of it. He tested something on a man from one of their secondary branches. An uncle, I think, or some blood relative close enough to stir real anger once the body was found. The experiment failed. Spectacularly.”

She lowered the glass.

”The man died because of it.”

The words pressed down on the room like stone.

”The Vaelion found him,” Selara said. ”And unlike the others before them, they had the reach to do more than threaten. They captured him. Locked him away. I thought that was the end of it.” Her shoulders rose and fell once. ”At the time, I simply left. I had already learned more than enough from him to know I would rot if I stayed near that kind of mind much longer. So I walked in the other direction and never went back.”

Her mouth twisted faintly.

”And now I’m a director.”

Trafalgar let the words pass without comment, though his thoughts had already begun building something he didn’t like.

’The Vaelion? Then how did he escape?’

If Selara was right, that man had spent over a century under the grasp of one of the Eight Great Families. That alone bordered on absurd. Families like the Vaelion didn’t keep something that dangerous locked away unless they intended to squeeze value from it. A century was a long time. And his class could produce things the world shouldn’t be able to buy.

’Did they use him? Was that even possible?’

The thought left a foul taste behind.

’No... I hope not.’

But hope did little against logic.

If Icarus had reached him, someone had opened a path. Or the old man had carved one out himself. Either way, the truth sat well outside Trafalgar’s reach. The Vaelion were untouchable from where he stood. No pressure he could apply would make them surrender something like this.

And if Selara’s master truly had been hidden that long, the problem ran deeper than a single madman walking free.

Trafalgar leaned back slightly and exhaled.

”If he wasn’t an ordinary master,” he said, ”how are we supposed to handle this?”

Selara set the glass aside and crossed her arms.

”I’ll use the alchemist network,” she said. ”There are people who owe me favors. People who trade in rumors, shipments, stolen formulas, unusual commissions — all the ugly little trails that respectable academies pretend don’t exist. I’ll ask around and see what rises.” Her expression did not brighten. ”When I know something, I’ll tell you.”

Trafalgar gave a small nod.

”It could take days,” Selara added. ”Weeks. Months. Men like him leave strange footprints, but rarely where anyone sensible can follow.”

”Yes,” Trafalgar said. ”I know that much already.”

He did not sound frustrated, and Selara lifted a brow at that.

”You’re calmer than I expected.”

Trafalgar’s tone stayed even.

”I doubt he has the resources to pull something like this again anytime soon. What happened with the vial wasn’t something he managed alone.” He glanced at the machine behind her, where the yellow liquid rested inside its housing like captive sunlight gone rotten. ”He had support from a house like the Thal’zar. He had stolen ingredients. He had Icarus moving pieces for him. That kind of infrastructure doesn’t rebuild itself overnight.”

Selara nodded slowly.

”That part is true. Icarus handled it well.” Disgust flickered across her face. ”A complete lunatic. The kind that makes even brilliant people step away from the table. Kidnapping a member of a Great Family to carry this out...” She clicked her tongue. ”That level of ambition is almost offensive.”

Trafalgar tilted his head.

”You know quite a lot about everything around this.”

Selara’s emerald irises caught the light with something dry and edged.

”I am a director of the most prestigious Academy in the world, Trafalgar. I know that and far more.” The corner of her mouth lifted. ”You students are always under the impression that if the Academy didn’t announce something formally, we must all be standing around with our hands behind our backs.”

That earned the faintest trace of amusement from him.

Selara caught it and, just as quickly, her expression shifted. Not grave this time. Dangerous in a different, far more personal way.

”Oh, and I forgot to say this the last time,” she said lightly. ”You ran off before I could.”

Trafalgar already had a bad feeling.

Selara smiled. It was the kind of pleasant smile that only made the warning behind it worse.

”If you break the heart of my dear little Aubrelle,” she said, ”I don’t know what I’ll do to you yet. That’s the problem. I’m creative when angry.”

Trafalgar did not flinch.

”You don’t need to worry about that.”

Selara studied him as if measuring whether he understood the full weight behind a soft sentence.

At length, she gave a satisfied hum.

”Good. See that you remain worth this much trouble.” She waved one hand toward the door, already half returning to herself. ”Now go on. Enjoy your vacation while it exists. Second year is harsher than first, and the Academy enjoys watching promising students suffer in increasingly expensive rooms.”

Trafalgar rose.

”I’ll keep that in mind.”

”I’m sure you will.”

He turned and headed for the door, boots crossing the stone floor while the machine behind Selara continued its low mechanical murmur. Just before stepping out, he glanced back once.

She was already facing the table again, fingers tracing over old notes, the vial, and whatever memories her master had dragged back to the surface uninvited.

Trafalgar left without another word.

When the door closed behind him, the corridor felt colder, and the name Vaelion stayed with him like a splinter he couldn’t reach.