At dawn, a vast caravan of mage-soldiers and knights advanced toward the Academy, banners snapping in the wind and the thunder of hooves rolling like a war drum. The Erkham family had sent three thousand troops—knights and mages alike; the Bourlance and Douglas families, one thousand each; while the remaining ten noble houses contributed five hundred men apiece. In total, ten thousand trained souls marched with a single purpose: to uncover what had caused the disturbance and ensure that the demonic cult had not taken root in the Cymopelia Forest.

  When they arrived, the scene was desolate. Rubble from collapsed buildings lay scattered across the ground, silent witnesses to the scale of the disaster. Class A—once a majestic building brimming with life—now lay in ruins, its fallen walls and shattered windows reflecting the sunlight like fragments of a broken memory.

  Sofía rode at the head of the Douglas forces, mounted on Tunder, a black steed that seemed to swallow the light around him. Her commanding presence and steady gaze set her apart from the crowd—a beacon of resolve amid the devastation.

  At her side, Lusian rode with equal composure, surveying every corner with quiet vigilance. The concern on his face was unmistakable, yet his bearing remained unshaken, as though his very presence were a shield against the destruction.

  "Headmaster Magnus," Sofía said, her voice firm yet gentle, "it looks… terrible. Why don't you take a few days to rest?"

  Magnus, the Academy's director, appeared gaunt and exhausted, but he lifted his head respectfully.

  "Your Grace, it is an honor to see you," he replied, his voice thin. "Have you come to help me atone for my mistakes?"

  Sofía shook her head softly.

  "Do not blame yourself. This was the work of the demonic cult."

  "Even so, I feel responsible," Magnus said. "I should have protected them. It is unjust that the young must face death while their elders can only stand by helplessly."

  Sofía frowned, struggling to contain her unease.

  "I heard there was no way to stop it. A massive monster appeared… Can you describe it?"

  Magnus closed his eyes, as if reliving the horror.

  "It was a reptile—six meters tall and thirteen long, dark green in color. It emerged from the forest, chasing other monsters. It approached the wall and… we used every spell we could conceive. Nothing worked. Attacking it was a mistake. It felt threatened and unleashed a beam of light from its mouth… the wall was destroyed in a single strike. Many warriors and mages vanished in an instant. Fortunately, it fed on the monsters around it and withdrew. With the wall gone, the other creatures flooded the Academy as they fled from it."

  Sofía swallowed, weighing every word.

  "No element affected it?"

  "None," Magnus confirmed. "Not even the combined strength of mages and warriors. It was absolute, destructive force."

  Lusian listened intently, recalling his experience from the game. The creature was nearly invincible: an Omega-level light magic lizard, resistant to all elements and capable of merciless annihilation within the forest. Only a precise strike of darkness magic—delivered at a specific point and at the exact right moment—could wound it. Otherwise, even the forest's monsters, masters of dark magic, were overwhelmed by its power.

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  If that beast had manifested in reality as it had in the game, Lusian thought, there would be no hope of victory. It would be total slaughter.

  A young woman, skillfully embedded among the Bourlance troops, moved with caution. Her hair was tied back, and she wore full armor, never removing her helmet. From a distance, she watched Magnus as he spoke with the duchess and her son. She noticed her uncle's injuries and longed to approach him, but she knew that if discovered, she would be barred from continuing the mission. Prudence was now her greatest ally.

  The exploration was organized with military precision. Ten groups of a thousand men each were dispatched into the forest with specific objectives: determine what had triggered the monster stampede, ensure the demonic cult had no refuge within its depths, and finally, locate the magical beast responsible for the chaos.

  Sofía approached Lusian, her expression grave, underscoring the gravity of the situation.

  "Lusian, I want you to remain by my side at all times," she said firmly. "Do not venture off alone. This is not like the tournaments we practice at home. We are entering the deepest reaches of the forest, where powerful monsters dwell and the danger will be extreme. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Mother," Lusian replied seriously, though a flicker of excitement glinted in his eyes. "I promise to be careful. I am here to help, and I do not want you worrying about me."

  Sofía offered a faint smile, though her gaze did not soften the warning beneath her words.

  "Keep a close eye on that young man," she added, gesturing toward Albert. "I will ensure he causes no mischief. You may trust me to keep you safe—and set aside all other concerns."

  "Yes, my lady," Albert answered respectfully.

  With coordinated motion, the groups began advancing into the forest, aware that they might spend days within its depths—with no guarantee of return. Each step felt heavier, each shadow seemed to conceal a secret, and the forest's silence became a constant reminder that danger lurked in every corner.

  At the Douglas mansion, a man delivered a letter addressed to Caleb, along with a gift. When Caleb received it, his joy was complete: it was a confession letter from Isabella Armett. In it, she requested a private meeting in a secluded location. Caleb penned his reply and handed it to the messenger, who was still waiting.

  Leopoldo walked through the capital's streets beside his nephew, his gaze fixed on the ancient walls and towers dominating the skyline. His expression was stern, weighted with pride he could not conceal.

  "Uncle, do not worry," Leonardo said, a trace of restrained anger in his voice. "One day we will avenge ourselves against that scoundrel. Just because he has his family's backing, he believes he can do as he pleases."

  Leopoldo turned his head, studying the young man with a blend of pride and caution.

  "So you were offended as well?" he asked. "Did your father say nothing?"

  "My father holds a grudge against that family," Leonardo replied. "He filed a complaint, but they said it concerned academy activities. That there was no disrespect toward the royal family, since everyone is treated equally there."

  Leopoldo frowned.

  "Your family is too tolerant. If this were the Empire, such a thing would never be allowed. Always remember that the Emperor's blood runs through your veins. And when you face an Epsilon-class warrior—someone like Lusian—you must stand firm, without hesitation."

  Leonardo arched a brow, intrigued.

  "An Epsilon-class warrior? You mean Lusian, Uncle?"

  "Yes," Leopoldo answered gravely. "It is no secret, though in this kingdom the warriors of the most prestigious houses often keep their magical affinity concealed. They prefer to retain the advantage in battle."

  "If Lusian is Epsilon…" Leonardo murmured, "then I understand why he is so strong."

  Leopoldo nodded, the air around him heavy with warning—and respect for the young warrior who had achieved what few could: defy the strength of nobility and the power of blood.

  "It is absurd," Leopoldo said at last, "to keep such secrets from the royal family. That, Leonardo… that should be considered treason."