What Became of the Tyrant After the Pregnant Empress Left - Chapter 233

The first anomaly occurred during the swordsmanship lecture—a mandatory class for first-year male students at the academy.

In Uzephia, Kazhan had only undergone basic physical training to avoid stunting his growth. In Pyrein, he’d merely existed, devoid of ambition. He’d never properly swung a sword before. By all rights, his placement at the bottom of the tournament bracket—held just a week into the course for skill assessment—should have been inevitable.

Yet—

He defeated classmates with years of training. Advanced to the Top 16. Then the Top 8. Only in the semifinals, against a favored contender, did he finally lose.

His swordsmanship professor, Lerkinnen, clicked his tongue in disbelief.

A complete novice, without a single callus on his hands, had only held a sword for a week. His form was visibly crude compared to his peers—yet he dismantled opponents through sheer physicality and instinct.

It defied logic.

There was no explanation but innate talent.

Half a year passed.

The more Lerkinnen taught Kazhan, the more obsessed he became. He itched to polish this unrefined gem, its brilliance impossible to ignore.

So much so that he was willing to break academy rules, offering private lessons in secret.

The problem was Kazhan’s utter lack of enthusiasm.

Lerkinnen nearly burst a vein watching a once-in-a-generation prodigy treat the blade so carelessly. This boy had the makings of the next Royal Knight Commander of Pyrein—letting that rot was unconscionable.

Coaxing, bribing, pleading—Lerkinnen nearly had to grovel to persuade him. Teeth gritted, he funneled his frustration into their sparring sessions, wielding their lessons as an excuse to unleash excessive force.

Thanks to this, Kazhan spent the next year battered and bruised. Yet he never complained. If anything, his skills sharpened exponentially. He assumed this was simply how training went.

To the new first-years, however, the sight was alarming.

Kazhan found the pale-faced girl fretting over him irritating. He tried to brush past—until he learned she was the princess.

Luminous platinum hair, lake-blue eyes. Delicate, precise features that radiated nobility.

A flawless princess, unlike his own half-blooded existence.

Had he cared for court gossip, he might’ve known Ysaris carried more commoner blood than he did. Or that her early enrollment made her two years his junior. Or the tangled royal intrigue behind her presence.

But Kazhan didn’t care.

And so their first meeting ended—with the princess staring after him, baffled, as he walked away without a backward glance.