GameDev Reincarnated into His Own Creation

Vol 2 - Chapter 20.2: Inheritance

"I leave Lona tomorrow," Landre admitted, confirming his doubts. "There's a village in the northern provinces suffering from a strange illness. That's why I wanted to see you today, right this moment."

Her hands folded primly in her lap, but Vel could see her fingers twisting the fabric of her robe—a nervous habit she'd had since childhood.

"I'll be here when you come back," Vel promised, reaching out to still her fidgeting hands with his own. "The Academy isn't going anywhere, and neither am I."

Landre's smile returned briefly, small but genuine. She squeezed his hand before letting go and straightening her robes.

"Let's not keep your fellow candidates waiting," she said, composing herself fully into her saintly persona once more.

Vel stepped down from the carriage and offered his hand to Landre. As she descended, the sunlight caught the intricate embroidery on her white robes, making them shimmer with an ethereal glow. Vel couldn't tell if it was enchanted fabric or cleverly designed threads, but the effect was unmistakable. The Church certainly knows how to make an impression, he thought.

They walked toward his waiting friends, Landre following at a measured pace behind him. The reaction was immediate. Academy candidates stopped their conversations mid-sentence, turning to stare. Even instructors, particularly those with Church affiliations, showed intense interest. Several people bowed deeply as Landre passed, and she responded with graceful blessing gestures—each movement precise and practiced.

When they reached the group, Celia dipped her head respectfully. Landre greeted her with a warm smile, clearly recognizing her from their time in Elnor. Her gaze then shifted to Tomas and Mira, who stood awkwardly, unsure of proper etiquette when meeting a Saint. Landre's attention lingered longest on Hileya, something questioning in her expression as she took in the half-elf's presence.

"May your path be true, your spirit unbroken, and your light undimmed by those who see only shadows," Landre offered formally, her voice carrying just far enough for nearby students to hear the blessing.

"Until we meet again, brother," she added in a softer tone meant only for him.

Vel bowed his head slightly, maintaining proper decorum for their audience. "Thank you, Saint Landre," he replied, his tone formal but with a subtle undercurrent that only siblings would recognize.

A flicker of amusement crossed Landre's face, her composure briefly breaking into a subtle smile as she recognized his playful mimicry. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the smile faded back into her serene expression. She turned gracefully, white robes swirling around her ankles, and made her way back to the waiting carriage.

The crusader took his position on the front seat beside the driver while the woman in white robes entered after Landre, maintaining her vigilant supervision even in these final moments.

Vel watched as the carriage carrying Landre pulled away, her guards maintaining their stoic expressions even as they departed. The crowd that had gathered during her visit remained, their whispers growing louder as the carriage disappeared from view.

"Did you see her robes?"

"I heard she healed an entire village..."

"They say she was chosen directly by the goddess, not through the normal trials..."

Tomas appeared at Vel's side, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"I almost didn't believe you when you said you're the brother of Saint Landre!" Tomas exclaimed, his voice a harsh whisper. "The youngest consecrated Saint in centuries!"

Vel shifted uncomfortably as whispers rippled through the crowd. The attention made his skin crawl—exactly what he wanted to avoid. He glanced at the students whose eyes tracked his every move.

"I didn't... we didn't plan this," Vel muttered to Tomas. "She just wanted to visit."

But it was clear the Church had other ideas. The grand entrance, the formal robes, the timing during the assessment period—it couldn't have been more perfectly orchestrated to showcase the connection between an Academy candidate and one of the youngest Saints in the Kingdom's history.

Mira leaned closer, her voice low. "Is it true she was chosen directly by Shizka? The stories say light came down from the heavens during her consecration."

Vel nodded slightly, not wanting to elaborate but unable to deny what had become public knowledge.

"She's my sister first, Saint second," he said simply, hoping to end the conversation.

Students from all factions were watching him now. Some from the Church faction looked impressed, even reverent by association. Others—particularly those aligned with Royal or Guild interests—were eyeing him with newfound suspicion or calculation.

"You realize what this means, right?" Celia said as they passed through the Academy gates. "Everyone's going to be watching you now."

Vel grimaced at her painfully obvious observation. "Let's get out of here before anything else happens," he muttered, quickening his pace. "I've had enough attention for one day."

He could feel the weight of dozens of stares on his back as they walked, each gaze carrying different expectations, different judgments. Some would see him as an ally to cultivate, others as competition to eliminate. A connection to a Saint could open doors—or paint a target on his back.

The peaceful anonymity he'd hoped to maintain had vanished in the space of a single visit. Whatever challenges he'd anticipated at the Academy had suddenly multiplied, all because his sister couldn't visit without the Church turning it into a spectacle.