Blood clung to the canvas walls like dark petals.

  The stench of copper filled the air so thickly that one of the northern soldiers almost tasted it when he stepped inside the tent. The five captives—what was left of them—sat where they’d been tied, glowing threads of Zia’s [Bind] skill was nowhere to be found. No life pulled against it anymore.

  They were gone.

  Every single one.

  Wor-en stood at the center of it all, a grim shadow cast by the lamplight. His gloves were streaked red. Around him, northern soldiers were quiet, faces pale beneath the soot and blood. They were men used to war—yet none of them spoke. Not because they were shocked, but because they recognized this kind of silence.

  The young northern soldier had seen death. He’d fought monsters, watched men bleed out on the field—but this was something else.

  It wasn't a battle. It was a dissection.

  Fingers missing. Toes scattered like broken stones. One of the captives’ eyes had rolled to the corner of the tent, glassy and unfocused.

  His stomach turned.

  “As expected of the Empire,” Jarl muttered at last, breaking the stillness. His voice carried no anger—only exhaustion. “They train their secret soldiers to die before they talk. They’ll bite their own tongues, break their own mana veins, anything to keep secrets buried.”

  Wor-en exhaled slowly, wiping his hands on a rag that was already soaked in crimson. “No... this isn’t just standard conditioning. Someone silenced them. I could feel the pulse of foreign mana before it vanished. They were forced to die.”

  Jarl blinked, his mind trying to catch up. “You mean... remotely?”

  “Possible,” Wor-en said. “There’s a sigil burned into the nerves of the neck. It collapses the soul channel the moment they’re compromised. I’ve seen it once before.”

  The professor’s eyes were cold as he straightened. “Whoever orchestrated this didn’t want us knowing what they knew. Which means they were close. A big possibility is that one of them has already infiltrated the kingdom. I’m sure the king is aware of this.”

  Jarl grunted, staring down at the ruin of a man Kana had fought. “They suddenly changed plans halfway through the raid. Someone warned them we’d be here.”

  Wor-en felt the familiar cold at the back of his neck—the same one he always felt before danger struck. “An informant,” he said softly. “Inside the academy’s network.”

  Jarl nodded, almost reluctantly. “It’s a possibility.”

  For a long moment, no one spoke. The fire crackled outside, a faint warmth bleeding through the tent’s fabric.

  “Burned them,” Wor-en finally said. “We’re not leaving proof they were even here.”

  Jarl saluted silently, already calling for his men. The tent felt smaller as they moved, the walls closing in, heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

  Then—

  A shout from outside.

  “Captain! Urgent situation!”

  The tent flap snapped open. A young northern soldier stood there, breath misting in the cold, eyes wide as he caught sight of the carnage within. He froze mid-sentence, swallowing hard before managing a strained, “I—I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but—”

  Wor-en’s expression didn’t change. “Speak.”

  The soldier steadied himself, voice trembling.

  “It’s Suri, sir. She said she saw the prince.”

  The tent went utterly still.

  ……

  The wind outside hissed softly against the tents, carrying the lingering scent of ash and blood. Inside the command circle, Suri stood surrounded by soldiers and students alike, her staff planted into the ground for balance. The faint light of the campfire flickered across their faces, casting long shadows that danced like restless spirits.

  Wor-en’s voice broke the uneasy silence,“Tell me exactly what you’ve seen.”

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  Suri swallowed and drew a slow breath. “There’s a garrison stationed inside the dungeon—humans, not monsters. They control the creatures, as if commanding their own army. I saw cages. Prisoners.” Her voice faltered slightly. “And one of them... wore the royal crest.”

  Jarl stepped forward, brow furrowed. “You’re sure about that?”

  “I saw it clearly,” Suri said. “A crossed sword woven in golden thread across his chest.”

  Jarl’s tone hardened. “The same crest the crown prince wore before he disappeared three years ago.” He looked down for a moment, his voice quieting. “It’s him. No doubt about it.”

  A hush fell over the group. Even the fire seemed to dim.

  Then Wor-en turned, eyes settling on Kana. His expression was calm, but there was something sharp behind it—something measuring. “Kana. What would you do in this situation?”

  Why did I ask her?

  Kana hesitated. Everyone’s eyes turned toward her.

  She felt the weight of their expectation—her companions, the northern soldiers, even Zia’s quiet curiosity from the back. For a heartbeat, she almost said she didn’t know. But then she remembered Nalyn’s blood on her hands, the cold guilt still sitting behind her ribs.

  She met Wor-en’s gaze. “If it’s true they’re behind the dungeon overflow, I’ll go all out.”

  Jarl raised an eyebrow. “All out? You mean to raid their stronghold? What if the crown prince dies? You’ll bring the entire kingdom down on your head.”

  Kana’s voice didn’t rise, but it carried a cold steadiness. “If they use him as leverage, the kingdom will crumble anyway. They’ll demand something impossible. Better to strike first and take control of the situation.”

  Her eyes flickered toward the horizon, toward the unseen dungeon far beyond the ridge. “If I had the forces, I’d rally a unit, form a specialized strike team, and cut straight through. Rescue the prince before the enemy can react.”

  Jarl frowned, but didn’t argue.

  Wor-en, however, only smiled faintly— the kind of expression that said I’ve already thought that through.

  “That,” Wor-en said, “Is likely what the king is planning. Which means we wait. We’ll move when the order comes, not before.”

  Toby raised a hesitant hand. “Uh... Professor? The capital’s far. A week’s ride, maybe more. We’re supposed to stay here and secure the border, right?”

  I was actually in the king's carriage on our way here. Wor-en thought but didn’t blurted it out.

  “Right,” Wor-en said with a small chuckle. “But the king’s word travels faster than his couriers. Principal Light is acting on his behalf. They can communicate almost in real time.” His tone was casual, but his eyes were thoughtful, flicking toward the night sky as if expecting a message to fall from it.

  He placed a hand on Suri’s shoulder. “Stay alert, Suri. The moment the principal reaches out, I want to know.”

  She nodded. “Understood.”

  Wor-en straightened, his voice rising so all could hear. “For now, we rest. Keep your weapons close and your minds sharper. Whatever happens next—” he looked toward the dark hills where the dungeon waited “—it won’t be simple.”

  The fire popped, and the group slowly dispersed, their murmurs fading into the night. Kana lingered a moment longer, staring at the flames.

  All out, she’d said.

  She wondered if she truly understood what that meant.

  …

  It had been an hour since they’d settled down, the last traces of sunset fading into the deep blues of night. The campfire burned low, the scent of smoke mingling with cold air and pine. Crickets whispered somewhere in the distance.

  Suri broke the quiet first, “I made contact with the principal!”

  Wor-en looked up from the edge of the fire, his face illuminated by the orange glow. “And?”

  Suri’s tone was brisk, professional. “Orders from Principal Light. Kana of First Year, Copper Class. Mica of Fourth Year, Silver Class. Ger Link and Ryle Greece of Third Year, Gold Class. They’re to move immediately. Royal Knights are waiting at the assigned point. The principal said the task will be given there.”

  That earned Wor-en’s full attention. He stood and gestured toward the large command tent. “Kana. Suri. Jarl. With me.”

  Inside, the air smelled faintly of wax and parchment. A single lantern hung from the ceiling, casting golden light across a sprawling map of the northern frontier spread across a wooden table. Thin lines of ink and charcoal marked mountain ridges and river paths, but large sections of the parchment were still empty—a void of white.

  Suri stepped forward without a word. She took the quill, dipped it in ink, and began to draw. Her movements were sure and sharp. The sound of scratching filled the tent as new lines appeared—paths, ravines, the outline of the dungeon mouth, and finally, the garrison where the prince was held.

  When she was done, almost three-quarters of the north was mapped. The far eastern and western edges, though, remained blank—uncharted territory, full of shadows and guesses.

  She marked one more spot, a red X far from their current position.

  “The rendezvous point,” she said, turning the map so Kana could see. “That’s where the Royal Knights are stationed. Principal Light said they’re waiting for you. Nothing more.”

  Kana leaned closer, tracing the ink with her eyes. “That’s… quite a distance.”

  “Three days, at least,” Jarl said, rubbing his beard. “For us. Maybe one and a half for someone with your speed.” He gave a half-smile. “Perhaps that’s why you’re chosen.”

  Wor-en crossed his arms. “Then those other students must be similar in ability. Fast, capable, specialized.” He studied the map, frowning. “Still, it means we’ll be short a leader while she’s gone.”

  He lifted his chin slightly, puffing his chest with theatrical confidence. “I suppose someone has to keep this rabble alive while she’s off saving the prince.”

  Kana didn’t hesitate. “I’ll assign Yuri as acting leader.”

  Wor-en froze mid-pose, the air going still for a beat.

  Then, slowly, his shoulders deflated.

  “Oh,” he said, voice flat. “Yes, of course. Excellent choice...”

  Jarl snorted, and even Suri had to cover a quiet laugh behind her sleeve.

  Kana offered a small, apologetic smile. “It’s only temporary.”

  Wor-en sighed, rubbing his temple.

  Outside, the wind howled through the northern plains, rattling the edges of the tent. The flickering light cast their shadows long across the map—lines of fate converging toward a single red X.

  I got two level up notifications today. Is there such a thing as a Class change? Class promotion? Did Zia do that to get her current class? Kana thought as she left the tent. She was pretty sure she heard of them though she wasn’t sure if it’s in this realm or it's where the world of pasta came from—her dream world. She sighed. Her [High Awareness] couldn’t pick her up. Where is Miss Zia?