Free Web NovelChapter 650: Chapter 650: The Co-Creator
Orven stood inside the hall with hundreds of faces staring back at him. The fury that had carried him through the doors did not fade; if anything, the attention made it burn hotter. He was wet-bearded, headache-ridden, furious, and in absolutely no mood to be treated like an interruption. Before he could decide which official to accuse first, a young voice rang out from the stage.
"Master von Halbrecht!" the boy on the stage called, his face lighting up with relief so sincere it made Orven’s anger trip over itself for half a breath. "I’m glad you made it in time. I sent a few messages over the last days, but I couldn’t reach you. I’m sorry for interrupting my own presentation, everyone, but please give a warm applause to Master von Halbrecht. He is the co-creator who helped me bring this invention to its final form."
For one miserable instant, Orven did not understand the language being spoken to him.
Co-creator?
The hall erupted into applause before his mind could catch up. Hands struck together from every tier of seating. A few cheers rose from the front rows. Several engineers nodded with the irritating approval of men who believed they were witnessing generosity from a respected master. Orven remained near the door, stiff as a pillar, while the sound rolled over him and made the headache behind his eyes deepen into something personal.
The boy gestured toward him with both hands, nervous and delighted at once. "Please, Master von Halbrecht, join me on the stage."
Orven did not know what was happening. That was the plain, humiliating truth of it. He had been drugged, robbed of time, woken with a skull full of hammers, and now apparently he had co-created an invention he had never seen in his life. A reasonable man might have refused. Orven von Halbrecht had been called many things across his career, and reasonable usually arrived only when someone wanted a signature from him.
So he walked.
As he crossed the hall, his eyes searched the rows. He expected to find the man who had done this to him. The old vampire face. Edran von Voss. That cursed polite voice. But the hall was packed with nobles, scholars, assistants, guards, alchemists, engineers, and spectators dressed in enough expensive fabric to hide a small army. Worse, the man he was searching for had never been real in the first place, though Orven did not know that yet. He could look until the chandeliers fell and never find the face he wanted to punch.
The applause kept going. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm
He saw people calling his name. He saw the judges exchanging pleased glances, as if his sudden arrival had completed a lovely little story of mentorship and rising talent. Near the front, a young man with dark hair and a presence difficult to ignore sat beside a girl in a fine dress. Both were applauding as well. Orven barely registered them. His attention was split between the boy on stage, the invention in the frame, and the growing suspicion that someone had used him so thoroughly that the room itself had decided to congratulate him for it.
He finally reached the stage.
The boy stepped aside with almost painful respect. "Thank you for coming, Master. I know you’re busy. I truly didn’t know whether you would make it."
"No," Orven said under his breath, low enough that only the boy might hear. "Clearly, neither did I."
The boy, perhaps assuming this was some dry senior-engineer remark, smiled nervously and turned back toward the audience.
Three important figures from Aurevane rose from the judges’ table. They were the sort of people Orven knew on sight: polished robes, formal clasps, faces trained to look grave while announcing decisions already arranged behind better doors. One of them stepped forward with a sealed card in hand, and the hall quieted with obedient speed.
"After careful review," the judge announced, "the Grand Alchemical Conclave awards this year’s first place to the ward-rupture mana converter presented by Arlen di Marest, with technical contribution from Master Orven von Halbrecht."
First place.
Of course.
Of course the day would not content itself with kidnapping. It needed applause too.
The hall burst into cheers.
The boy — Arlen, apparently — looked as if someone had poured sunlight directly into his chest. He bowed once, far too deeply, nearly hitting his head on the presentation frame in the process. Orven had to resist the bitter urge to correct his posture in front of everyone.
Arlen stepped toward the center of the stage, hands clasped tight enough to whiten the knuckles. "Thank you. Truly. I worked on this converter for months and years, and for a long time I thought it would never become stable enough to show. I wanted to create something that could stop small ward failures before they became disasters, especially in public structures where people don’t have time to evacuate."
He swallowed, glancing once toward Orven with open gratitude that made the whole situation worse.
"A few days ago, Master von Halbrecht visited my preparation room. He looked at the converter, listened to my explanation, and gave me advice that changed everything. He told me to start with the failure, to make people understand the danger before explaining the mechanism. He also corrected the presentation and helped me see what mattered most in the design."
The audience murmured with approval.
Orven stood there like a man watching his own ghost become a better person in public.
Arlen continued, voice steadier now. "Without that guidance, I don’t think I would have stood here today. So thank you, Master von Halbrecht. And thank you to Aurevane for giving young inventors like me a place to be seen."
The applause came again, warmer this time.
Then the boy turned toward Orven.
Naturally.
Because apparently, the universe had sharpened a knife and decided to call it ceremony.
"Master," Arlen said, stepping back from the speaking mark, "would you like to say a few words?"
No.
That was the correct answer. frёeωebɳovel.com
Unfortunately, hundreds of eyes waited. The judges waited. The boy waited with his stupid, hopeful face. Orven could feel the shape of the trap closing around him. If he denied involvement now, the entire hall would collapse into confusion. If he raged about being drugged, they would think the headache had beaten him into public insanity. If he walked away, he would look like an old tyrant crushing a young man’s moment because of some private irritation no one understood.
So Orven stepped to the speaking mark.
He looked at the invention for the first time properly. Compact. Balanced. Better than many devices he had seen that week, actually. The flow paths were sensible. The core rotation had promise. Whoever had advised the boy had not been a fool.
That, somehow, made him angrier.
"Yes," Orven said, letting his voice carry through the hall. "It happened much as he described."
The boy’s face brightened.
Orven hated everything.
"But let us be clear. The credit belongs to the young inventor standing here. Advice is not invention. A correction is not creation. I gave him a few words because his work deserved to survive his presentation, and he did the difficult part afterward. He listened, revised, and improved."
That earned another approving murmur. Orven could feel the judges relaxing, the crowd leaning into the story. Mentor and student. Senior master and rising talent. How touching. How useful. How completely infuriating.
He pressed on because stopping now would make it worse.
"If there is anything worth taking from this, it is that young minds should bring their work forward even when they are uncertain. Aurevane exists for that, at least in theory." A few chuckles passed through the hall. "So I encourage those who failed this year to return next time with better work, better questions, and fewer apologies in their explanations. Talent is not rare. Discipline is. This young man showed both when it counted."
The applause rose again, stronger than before.
Arlen looked ready to float off the stage.
Orven stepped back before anyone could ask him to continue.
The rest became ceremony. The award was given. The judges smiled. The boy bowed several more times than necessary. Orven stood beside him, enduring gratitude, admiration, and the unbearable sensation of being praised for another man wearing his face.
At last, the presentation ended.
The homunculus never appeared before the public. Only a small circle of important people knew of her existence, and even fewer understood what had nearly stood on that stage in Arlen’s place. Aurevane’s highest officials kept their smiles polished, but Orven could see nerves hiding beneath the lacquer. Whatever had happened behind the event’s closed doors, it had frightened them badly. Even so, the Grand Alchemical Conclave ended as a success in the eyes of the crowd, with no scandal, no monster, and no public mention of Void-born material.
Later, while the city celebrated the clean ending it did not deserve, Trafalgar packed in his room for the departure from Aurevane. Caelum was there as well, with Esmond secured nearby, Selara standing beside the homunculus, and the true weight of the event hidden inside that room instead of on any stage.
