Sylvara's Rebirth: A New Dawn for Abel novel Chapter 70

**Chapter 70: Bored**

Issac felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He had to maintain his composure; his fans deserved nothing less than his best. With a determined smile plastered on his face, he declared, “I’m just okay.” The words flowed out, but deep inside, he was buzzing with a mix of nerves and excitement. “You two sitting up here means you’re amazing too.”

He leaned forward slightly, his voice taking on a heroic tone, “If you ever have questions—or if anyone tries to mess with you—come to me. I promise I’ll help you.” He thumped his chest with a fist, a gesture meant to convey strength and reliability, as if he were a knight pledging loyalty to his comrades.

Sylvara and Veyric, caught up in the moment, halted their clapping in unison, straightened their backs, and chimed in perfect harmony, “Thank you, Mr. Wright. Please keep going. Share more tips about studying and fighting. We won’t interrupt again. Please continue.” Their eagerness was palpable, their eyes wide with anticipation.

Who says I’m not as good as Agares? Issac thought, glancing at the faces before him, glowing with admiration.

With a throat-clearing flourish, Issac grinned, feeling like he owned the stage. “Since my classmates are so eager for my battle tips, I’ll keep going. Let’s start with when I learned combat at age eight…”

And so, he launched into his tale. Words poured from him like an unending river, a stream of anecdotes and advice that might have inspired awe—if only anyone was actually listening. The truth was, everyone—both on stage and off—was slowly succumbing to a creeping boredom that felt almost tangible.

Veyric, feeling the weight of the situation, let out a heavy sigh as he slumped back in his chair. Once the attention shifted away from him, he muttered, “This is so awkward.” The discomfort wrapped around him like a thick fog.

Sylvara, ever resourceful, reached into her spatial button and pulled out two plump grapes. With a mischievous grin, she popped one into his mouth and took the other for herself, chewing thoughtfully to wash away the lingering taste of the dreadful candies they’d been forced to endure. “Awkward? Grow up,” she teased lightly. “Sometimes you just have to throw shame out the window.”

Veyric swallowed the grape before he even registered what it was. The sweet burst of flavor hit him like a wave, and his eyes widened in surprise and delight. “You’re right. This is good! What is it? Got more?”

“Sure. Here’s another.” She didn’t wait for him to ask again, shoving two more grapes into his mouth with a playful shove. “And toss those nasty candies later.”

In the corner of the room, Aslan struggled to stifle his laughter, his shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth. He leaned towards the handsome man beside him, who mirrored his amusement. “Told you she’s a treasure. She’s even corrupting that Storms kid. Believe me now?”

Veyric had indeed surprised them. If it hadn’t been for the Storms’ message, Aslan would have had no idea he was even present. That kid had spent ten long years trapped in the sterile confines of Central Gene Hospital—who would have thought he’d end up in a military academy?

The man beside him, clad in a combat instructor’s uniform, had violet eyes that sparkled with a dangerous intensity as he observed the two shameless snackers on stage. His voice was gravelly, carrying a weight of authority. “She really is a treasure.”

But then he frowned, his brow furrowing in contemplation. “Doesn’t match the report at all.”

Aslan nodded, understanding the implications. “The file says she grew up with the Mordrels. Sickly. No mental energy. Physical strength H-grade. Never went out. Shy and quiet.”

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