Sylvara's Rebirth: A New Dawn for Abel novel Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: Classic Fake Innocence**

Drenvar, pondering the sharpness of Sylvara’s words, chose to dismiss their sting. A smile crept onto his face as he said, “You took down the three-headed dog. No doubt about it, you’re the top freshman now.”

Sylvara, with a quick flick of her finger, pointed toward Veyric. “Not me. It was him,” she declared, her tone brimming with a mix of pride and mischief.

Drenvar’s brows knitted together as he fixed his gaze on Veyric. “It was you?” he asked, incredulity lacing his voice.

Veyric nodded confidently. “Yeah, it was me. I punched it,” he replied, a hint of bravado in his demeanor.

Drenvar’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Just one punch?” he asked, his excitement palpable.

Veyric balled his hand into a fist, his expression fierce. “Yeah, just one punch. It went flying across the ground. Guess it couldn’t take a hit,” he boasted, a grin spreading across his face.

Couldn’t take a hit?

Drenvar felt a surge of exhilaration. A student capable of knocking out a three-headed dog with a single blow was a rarity, even among the elite at the military academy.

This could be the moment the Fifth Military Academy finally garners the recognition it deserves and ascends in ranks.

“Don’t get too carried away, Sir,” Sylvara interjected, her tone sharp and unyielding. She had a reputation for not letting anything slide. If anyone dared to cross her, they could expect a swift and fierce retribution. With determination, she strode into the Fifth Academy, seized Raelynn by the arm, and thrust her before Drenvar. “When the three-headed dog attacked, this sophomore from the Healing Department shoved me aside,” she accused, her voice ringing with indignation.

“Then she locked the academy gates. If this guy hadn’t come along, I’d be dog chow right now,” she added, her eyes blazing with intensity.

Raelynn stood frozen, a wave of shock washing over her. She had never anticipated that Sylvara would escape the clutches of the monstrous creature, let alone that the new student could deliver a knockout punch.

Veyric, recalling the panic that had surged through him as he banged on the gate, felt a flicker of annoyance. He stepped forward, backing Sylvara’s claims. “She’s right, Sir. I was outside, pounding on the gate, and the three-headed dog hadn’t even reached us yet.”

“I shouted until my throat felt raw and nearly broke my hand, but those gates stayed shut. Is this how you treat someone who’s about to join your academy?” he pressed, his voice rising with frustration.

“What happens when she becomes a soldier? If civilians are in danger, will she simply turn her back? If a comrade is wounded on the battlefield, will she abandon them because they’re a burden?”

Drenvar was taken aback by Veyric’s passionate outburst. Having graduated from a military academy himself, he had spent two decades serving as a soldier before transitioning into teaching. Everything he had learned reinforced the belief that being a soldier was about protecting the innocent, defending one’s homeland, and placing trust in one’s comrades.

Meanwhile, Raelynn, still sprawled on the ground, struggled to rise but found her arm numb from Sylvara’s forceful grip. Desperation clawed at her as she clutched Drenvar’s pant leg, tears streaming down her face. “No, no, Mr. Stone. They’re framing me,” she pleaded, her voice quivering with emotion.

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