SOMEWHERE IN THE PACIFIC OCEAN
Dr. Johnson had been eagerly anticipating a call from Princess Meda Von for the past few days. She would let the submarine surface every hour, hopeful that a call or text would come through. It had been nearly a week since their last contact, and the lack of communication was starting to worry her. As she pondered the destruction of the labs and Meda’s silence, she couldn’t help but acknowledge that the Princess’s predictions were coming true.
“After the labs are destroyed by them, I anticipate being summoned by Queen Anka. However, there’s no need to worry, as I will inform you before I depart. But if I am unable to contact you within five days, assume that something has happened to me. At that point, you can proceed with the plan and live a better life.”
“It’s the fifth day,” Dr. Johnson mumbled, letting out a heavy sigh. I apologize for not being of much assistance, Princess. Nevertheless, I am immensely grateful to you. You are the one who granted me the opportunity to pursue my passion and fulfill my dream of becoming a scientist.
Rebecca Johnson’s journey towards becoming a scientist was anything but ordinary. Her path was shaped by personal tragedy. Both of her parents suffered from tuberculosis, which led to her being taken in by her grandmother at the tender age of eight. At fourteen, she tragically lost her mother to the illness, and the following year, her father succumbed to the same fate. Despite tuberculosis being a curable disease, her mother had the misfortune of being allergic to antibiotics, while her father contracted a drug-resistant strain.
The loss of her parents only intensified Rebecca’s determination to pursue a career in science. However, upon graduating from high school, she faced yet another devastating blow when her grandmother passed away. This left her without the financial means to pursue a college education. Undeterred, Rebecca used her small inheritance to invest in books on physics, chemistry, biology, astronomy, and more. She immersed herself in self-study, devouring knowledge and fueling her passion for scientific exploration. It was through her relentless dedication and thirst for knowledge that she forged her path as a scientist, defying the odds stacked against her. It was also by chance that Rebecca happened to cross paths with Meda in her search for a company to fund her project of inventing a cure for allergic reactions to antibiotics and drug-resistant strains.
“I am finally free,” Dr. Johnson whispered with a bittersweet smile. She stepped out of her room and made her way to the secluded area on the lower deck of the submarine. There, tucked away in a secure compartment, lay a cryogenic sleep pod containing the lifeless body of Robert Dale.
To be continued...
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You've reached the end of The Veilbreakers! Thank you for your support. I hope you'll read Book 2 of Ranace Trilogy: Supreme Valoure Academy.
This book is set in the same timeline as Book 1, revealing the events behind the scenes through the perspective of a different set of characters connected to the Veilbreakers. And of course, this time, there will be romance!
Blurb
Zavian, a top student who endures bullying, faces rejection from Olesia due to her perception of his weakness. Determined to prove his worth, he enrolls in the Supreme Valoure Academy. As he trains to combat evil conjurers, an unexpected power is unleashed, setting off events beyond his control. Exposed to life-altering secrets, will these revelations help him win Olesia's heart, or will they bring unforeseen challenges, altering his destiny forever?
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I hope to see you in Book 2! Zavian and Olesia will be waiting for you, Noomies!
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Bonus Chapter: Supreme Valoure Academy Chapter 1
AUTUMN, SEPTEMBER 2015
MAZLE CITY
GREEN ROYALE HIGH
Zavian Villin grew increasingly irritated by a classmate’s behavior. Is he interested in men? he wondered. The constant staring and grinning during class had become a daily annoyance since Brockley Everest joined Green Royale High a week ago.
After the teacher’s briefing on the science project involving luminol, a chemical compound used in forensic investigations to detect blood, Zavian was intrigued. The project would focus on how temperature influenced the blue glow produced by luminol. With the class dismissed, he eagerly anticipated diving into this experiment.
In his late 50s, Mr. Grayford, bald and plump, the science teacher, was about to leave the room with his laptop bag when a student caught his attention. He turned to her and asked, “Yes, Ms. Werner?”
Some of the students pushed Ms. Werner forward as if they had ordered her to speak. They were all aware of Mr. Grayford’s intimidating reputation and seemed to relish the prospect of seeing her reprimanded by him. It wasn’t surprising that she, like Zavian, was a target for bullying.
Ms. Werner, trembling, hesitated before speaking. “Um, sir? Could you extend the deadline? The project seems difficult, and we need more time.”
Frustrated, Mr. Grayford adjusted his glasses and replied sternly, “No! I won’t extend it. You must submit your analysis this week!”
The Queen Bee, one of the bullies, boldly stood up without permission and protested, “But, sir! That only gives us three days. It’s unfair!”
Mr. Grayford wore a self-satisfied smirk and responded, “I can accelerate it, Ms. Porras. The new deadline is this Thursday.”
With that, he left the room without a second glance, despite the students’ pleas. Chaos erupted in the classroom, and soon, the bullies channeled their frustrations toward Ms. Werner. Four girls smacked her head, kicked her desk, and hurled insults. Amidst the turmoil, a boy callously recorded the distress on his phone, laughing at the scene.
Zavian sighed heavily and shook his head in disbelief. I guess there’s no hope for them, he thought. He packed his pen and notebook and started to rise, but someone forcefully yanked him back into his seat. It was Jedroz, a known bully, accompanied by Crossvan, who nonchalantly settled onto Zavian’s desk.
Jedroz dragged a chair over, positioning it beside Zavian before taking a seat and casually draping his arm around his neck. He emitted an irritated laugh as he tightened his grip. “Why didn’t you support Ms. Loser when she asked for an extension?” He tapped his cheek a few times, then sighed into his ear. Zavian shot him a fierce glare, prompting him to release his grip and stand up. With a sarcastic tone, Jedroz said, “Oh, I’m scared.” Leaning closer, he wore a creepy smile. “You should’ve helped her, bastard. You know Mr. Baldy wouldn’t have refused you if you’d asked.”
“Why would I when I can finish mine on time?”
The bullies laughed. Jedroz raised his hand to hit his head, but just as his hand was about to make contact, someone else’s hand intercepted it. It was the transfer student.
“Hey, dude, I think you’re picking on the wrong person,” Brockley said, firmly gripping his arm. The bully struggled to resist as he expertly twisted it. “This guy you’re bullying is my friend, you see.”
Tears welled up in Jedroz’s eyes. He whimpered as Brockley’s tight grip overwhelmed him. Realizing his mistake in the intense situation, he apologized for harassing Zavian, leading Brockley to release his grip.
The bullies fell silent and left. Brockley expressed concern about Zavian’s well-being, to which he nodded in acknowledgment and expressed his gratitude before leaving the room. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Brockley was following him. When he reached the school gate, he turned to face him and waited for him to speak.
“I’m sorry, but I just wanna ask you something,” he began. “Are we really friends—”
“I’ve already told you, I don’t need a friend,” Zavian cut him off and turned to walk away.
However, he reappeared in front of him. “Well, you didn’t disagree with me earlier when I said that you’re my friend.”
“Do you believe silence means yes?”
“Hmm . . . uh, yeah, I suppose.”
“Cut that out and only believe it if the other person confirms. Don’t take silence for an automatic yes.”
Brockley scoffed and pressed his tongue against his cheek as he nodded. It seemed like his true colors were finally showing, or maybe Zavian’s words had irked him.
“Fine, I won’t insist anymore.”
Zavian turned around and walked away. That happened faster than I expected. I thought he would beg to be friends with me. It left him wondering about Brockley’s true intentions. After all, he had once mentioned that Zavian seemed lonely and miserable—the reason he wanted to befriend him. Was that a subtle insult? However, he was unfazed at that time, as it accurately described his feelings. Still, he wondered if Brockley wanted to have a smart friend. Did he plan to befriend him, potentially to copy answers from quizzes and exams? However, he was out of luck because Zavian had no intention of letting anyone take advantage of him—at least when it came to academics.
As he rode his bicycle home, he unexpectedly crossed paths with Olesia, who was also riding her bicycle back to school. Ah, she must be heading to their club room, he thought. Her front basket was filled with bond paper and vibrant red, orange, and yellow leaves. A warm smile lit up her face as she noticed Zavian, and it had a nearly heart-melting effect on him. Just like the leaves falling around them, he found himself falling for her beauty as well. I wish we were in the same class.
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After the last class, Zavian unwillingly accompanied the bullies, Jedroz and Crossvan to the secluded side of the school building—an area rarely visited by students due to its haunted reputation. Legends spoke of a female conjurer with superpowers who met her end here after being exposed for pretending to be a human. Whispers in the school corridors said that she had been a bully herself, and her grim fate was sealed within this eerie place.
Arriving, a chilling voice pierced the silence. “You’re finally here, Zavian! I’ve been waiting for you.”
Hearing the voice, he instantly recognized the person behind it and understood his nature. “Why are you waiting for me, Mr. Everest?”
The bullies released his arms at a signal from Brockley. Zavian nearly chuckled at the turn of events. It appeared that these two had become his henchmen, or perhaps they were part of a more elaborate scheme he hadn’t initially realized. It seemed they believed he would fall for Brockley’s act, but when he didn’t, he finally revealed his true intentions. The transfer student wasn’t genuinely trying to be his friend; he was attempting to deceive Zavian.
Brockley leaned casually against the ivory-painted wall, hands in his pockets. “I’ve given up on the idea of making you my friend. Now, I’m resolved to make you my slave instead.” He laughed. “How does that sound to you?”
His two henchmen joined in the laughter, and Zavian shot them a piercing glare. “You can try.”
Brockley smirked. “Go ahead, guys.”
“Are you planning to beat me up?”
Jedroz taunted him, lightly patting his cheek a few times, but Zavian remained resolute, showing no sign of fear. Jedroz soon halted and opted for laughter instead. “We will, if you don’t agree to do our science project.”
“Why? Can’t handle it? Is it too much for your brain to manage?” He shrugged indifferently. “Well, that’s not my freaking problem at all. It’s not my fault you weren’t born gifted.”
Brockley’s laughter suddenly erupted as if he found Zavian’s comment amusing, even wiping away a tear from his eye. “Ah, that was hilarious!” But then, his expression shifted to aggression. “You really do think quite highly of yourself, don’t you? Implying you’re gifted when you’re nothing more than a pathetic little shit asking for a beating?”
“Hmm . . . when did I ask for it? You’re making things up, Mr. Everest,” he sneered. However, his response was met with an impulsive punch from Jedroz, sending his eyeglasses tumbling to the ground. He reached for them, but before he could retrieve them, he was grabbed and subjected to another punch, this time delivered by Crossvan, who had been rather quiet until this point. “Will you do our project, or will you be our punching bag? Which one is it going to be?”
Zavian crumpled to the ground, forced into a kneeling position, using his hands for support. He quickly retrieved his eyeglasses and placed them back on his face. Without them, his vision felt like a camera, unable to focus, even affecting his hearing. He rose unsteadily, dusting off his hands while maintaining a vigilant watch on his aggressors. I have to be prepared and somehow avoid their punches.
Brockley heaved an exasperated sigh. “Go ahead, give him a lesson, but don’t hit his face. Aim for his body, so there won’t be any visible bruises.”
“Understood,” both of his henchmen responded in eerie unison.
Jedroz threw the first punch, and Crossvan swiftly followed suit. They took turns, landing blows on Zavian’s stomach, sides, and arms. Their uniforms, consisting of black pants and a black coat over a white shirt, provided them with the freedom to strike without any hindrance.
The hits grew progressively stronger. Zavian, however, never entertained the idea of fighting back. He recognized the futility of trying to battle against three opponents. Fighting back would only worsen the situation, and he couldn’t afford the risk of sustaining severe injuries or worse.
The relentless assault left him writhing in agony, emitting groans as he collapsed to the ground. Their actions displayed a complete lack of remorse as they continued their attack, now resorting to kicks. Recognizing that Zavian could endure no more blows, they ceased their assault. He was left incapacitated, battered, and bruised, lying on the ground.
Before departing, Brockley issued a warning. “The next time you disobey any of us, worse than this might happen to you again. Remember that.”
Zavian, determined and unwavering, refused to acknowledge his threat, even if it meant enduring more violence. He wouldn’t bow to their demands. With great effort, he slowly sat up, one hand cradling his aching stomach and the other adjusting his eyeglasses. Trying to stand, he winced in pain. He felt as if some of his ribs were broken. His backpack felt even heavier than before, possibly due to exhaustion or the five books crammed inside that now seemed like lead weights. He had kept it on earlier, using it as a makeshift shield for his back.
As he began to walk, he noticed that his uniform was smudged with dirt. He brushed it off with his hands, not paying attention to where he was headed until he collided with someone. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his gaze still fixed on his uniform.
“It’s okay.”
Taken aback by a familiar voice, Zavian turned his gaze straight ahead and found Olesia, who was narrowing her eyes at him. She huffed and folded her arms. “You got beaten up again, didn’t you?” She sighed and then let her hands fall to her sides. “I suggested coming to your classroom and biking home together, but you were adamant about going solo. I just wanted us to enjoy the ride as friends. That way, the bullies won’t dare come close to you.”
Zavian was speechless. Shit. This is beyond embarrassing.
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I hope you liked it! :)