The sky above the western horizon was already darkening when Victor descended to the ground, his boots landing softly atop a moss-covered stone outcropping deep within the forest. The surrounding air was faintly tinged with Necro-elemental mana, and the trees surrounding the area stood lifeless and withered, devoid of even the smallest trace of life.

  “Come out, Valeria,” Victor called out, his voice reverberating through the silence.

  A moment passed before a familiar ripple of mana stirred the space ahead. The air warped like an illusion, and from the distortion emerged Valeria arc Noctis, the Ghost Necromancer. As always, she wore her usual contrast of a flowing black dress and a pristine white apron, perched beneath a parasol at a conjured table like she was hosting afternoon tea in a graveyard. The ever-absurd chef’s hat still sat proudly atop her head, and behind her, the silent Death Knight stood like a monolithic shadow.

  “Well, well,” she greeted with a faint, knowing smile. “You’re getting better at sensing me. I suppose I should be proud. Are you here to bring me a new batch of crops? It’s still a bit early for the weekly delivery. Or do you miss my cooking?”

  At first, Victor was the one who would bring her the agreed-upon harvested crops and other seasonings while enjoying her cooking. Later on, when he was away on his way back to his family’s estate, he delegated this task to SuperNova, who was most familiar with her.

  Victor chuckled softly. “Not this time.”

  “I figured,” she said, narrowing her eyes with mild curiosity. “So, what brings the headmaster of the Sanctum of Interdimensional Magi to my little corner of the woods?”

  “I came to tell you the Magus tower is complete,” he answered. “With that, you can now be officially recognized as part of the academy.”

  Valeria tilted her head, interest flashing in her crimson eyes. “Is that so? And what do you want me to be again? The school’s royal ghost mascot?”

  “Ahem, no. We already have a mascot,” Victor replied, unfazed. “As I’ve said before, I want you to become the Department Head of Necromancy, in charge of the Necro Tower. You possess knowledge and power that no living Magus could hope to match. In exchange for the academy’s protection and a steady supply of food ingredients — within reason — you’ll be given complete freedom to pursue your… cooking and magical research without interference. In return, you’ll defend the Sanctum when necessary. This was our agreement.”

  She smirked faintly, placing a hand on her hip. “Protecting your academy, that I will do. But aside from that, I’ll give you three favors.”

  “Really?” Victor’s brows rose slightly. Three favors from a being beyond the Sigil Conversion rank were an immense boon. Even now, he couldn’t clearly gauge the limits of Valeria’s power. Though heavily suppressed by the world’s laws, she could likely kill him with little effort if she ever desired to.

  “No kidding,” she said, “You’re my most important customer so far, so consider it after-service from the Fallen Princess herself. Be honored.” She crossed her arms, a smug smile tugging at her lips. “In return, I want a few of your little acolytes to be my test subjects.”

  “I can arrange that, as long as you don’t go too far with them,” Victor replied with a nod. “But as you may know, my academy is different than most Magus academies. You can certainly ask these acolytes to become your guinea pigs, and they would be more than willing if you reward them in return. If you claim that they’re still capable of practicing meditation technique and reached official Magi status even as an undead, then I find there’s nothing wrong with this proposition.”

  If more players could undergo the transformation into smart undead like SuperNova, it would open up an entirely new path in the game — a specialized class line or race change option, perhaps. From a game mechanic’s standpoint, it was far from a bad idea.

  “No need to rush,” she said, waving a hand lazily. “I still have business to settle in the Bone Plane. I’m working on establishing a connection with it again, and for that, I’ll need a large quantity of voidstones. Can you prepare them?”

  The Bone Plane…

  It was considered one of the lesser planes adjacent to Seraphia — a fragmented world devoid of light and ruled by death. In the cosmological hierarchy, planes were divided into seven grades. Seraphia had once been a proud Grade One plane — a true greater world — but since the fall of the Magus Dynasty, no Grade One plane remained in this universe.

  By contrast, the Bone Plane was likely a Grade Five world at best. In theory, there shouldn’t be any beings there stronger than a Sigil Conversion Magus… and yet, knowing Valeria, theory didn’t always mean safety, though she was once a being from Seraphia.

  Nevertheless, Victor understood that, given how heavily she was suppressed in this world, Valeria’s true source of power must lie within the Bone Plane. She couldn’t simply abandon that place — not until she adapted fully to Seraphia through some mystical method that remained beyond Victor’s current knowledge.

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  But this… is an opportunity…

  If he could open a passage to the Bone Plane without requiring a nexus gate, he could send players there on expeditions to gather resources that were scarce or unavailable in Seraphia. An interplanar trade route like that would be groundbreaking — and absurdly profitable. With the right framework, he could rake in millions of mana crystals!

  Excited by the idea, Victor shared the plan with Valeria.

  “And what makes you think I’d want to babysit a bunch of spell-slinging brats pretending to be heroes?” she asked dryly, her hands resting on her hips. Her face elongated unnaturally in a deliberate show of annoyance.

  Victor, unfazed, met her gaze and said frankly, “Because they’re entertaining. And because, officially, you’re now the dean of the Department of Necromancy.”

  Valeria stared at him for a long second — then chuckled. The sound, surprisingly, had a ring of genuine amusement to it. “You make a compelling argument, Headmaster,” she said with a smirk. “All right. I’ll think about it.”

  Of course, Victor knew that despite the Bone Plane being classified as one of the lesser planes, the players were still far too weak to handle it. It would be wiser to wait until a number of them advanced to the Elemental Adept Magus rank before launching any expedition. That said, if some players were transformed into undead like SuperNova, blending in with the Bone Plane’s inhabitants shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.

  Either way, the expedition was not something that would happen in the short term.

  In the meantime, the Merlin family had not been staying still. After the humiliating ambush orchestrated by the Asteriscus family, Alphonse had led the remnants of their forces to the nearest stronghold — Brightmoon City. Victor Asteriscus, that insolent brat, had not only escaped a direct confrontation but had done so while crippling the Merlin advance fleet.

  Alphonse paced back and forth within the main hall of Brightmoon Mansion, cold fury radiating from him like an aura of frost. His physical wounds had long healed, but the humiliation still festered like an open scar.

  “Sire,” a younger Magus reported, bowing low. “The envoys have returned. Several local Magus factions have agreed to the terms.”

  Alphonse halted mid-step, eyes narrowing. “Which ones?”

  “The Hollow Hut, the Eldring Magus Clan, and three minor factions near the western borderlands. They only have Elemental Adept Magi at most, but combined, they bring seven official Magi and a decent pool of resources.”

  He let out a derisive snort. “Even the rats have begun crawling toward the scent of power. Good. We will make use of them.”

  Though weak, these factions were eager to gain his favor and terrified of drawing his ire — a Nexus Temporal Magus. Alphonse would not trust them with anything important — but for cannon fodder, for laying traps, and overwhelming defenses with sheer numbers? They would serve their purpose well.

  He turned back toward the table at the center of the hall, where a map projection of the Thornwood Forest hovered in pale green light. The Merlin family’s Magi had pinpointed the most likely location of the enemy, and a preliminary battle plan had already been drawn.

  “Ready the Zephyros. Have the alliance forces gather within a week near the southern cliff line. We move the moment preparations are complete,” Alphonse commanded, his tone absolute.

  “Yes, Patriarch.”

  Were it not for the losses sustained during the ambush — five official Magi dead, dozens of acolytes perished, and two dirigibles destroyed— he would have launched the assault within three days. Unfortunately, his forces needed some time to recuperate and gather resources for the assault. This was a huge humiliation for his high pride.

  Alphonse’s expression darkened as he gazed at the dark forest, filled with simmering rage. “You think your little academy will survive my wrath, Victor?” he whispered coldly. “I’ll burn your precious sanctuary to the ground and bury your name under rubble. This time, you won’t escape. Never again.”

  Outside, dark clouds coiled in the sky — a gathering storm that mirrored the fury to come. And with it, the shadow of war crept ever closer to the heart of the Thornwood Forest.

  As the maintenance concluded and players began logging back in, the academy grounds once again flooded with life and chatter. Every player emerged from their dorms and resting areas to check out the newly added buildings and facilities. The air buzzed with excitement as everyone rushed to explore the updated content — but their momentum was soon halted by a notification from their Shadowlink Marks, instructing them to report to the grand auditorium.

  Victor stood atop the stage inside the auditorium with a commanding presence, overlooking the assembled crowd. Within minutes of the urgent notice being sent out, nearly two thousand players had filled the room, and it was the first time that the auditorium was almost filled to capacity — the largest crowd gathered in one place since the academy’s founding. Almost every seat was taken, with some players having to stand along the aisles, while the latecomers pressed against the back wall.

  The academy had truly grown since the early days.

  To ensure no one missed the moment, players stationed in Thornwood Village or other outposts received a live projection of the gathering via their Shadowlink Marks — a hovering holographic screen delivering both image and sound in real time.

  Victor raised his hand, and the murmuring crowd fell into silence, like a great wave settling upon the shore.

  “My dear acolytes!” Victor began, his voice echoing through the grand auditorium. “The academy has come a long way — once a humble beginning, it is now an institution revered and envied by many. It has endured countless trials, invasions, and tribulations. Yet, through it all, we have always stood firm. We have always prevailed.

  “However, soon it will face a threat that is more cunning, more dangerous than anything we’ve faced before. A powerful Magus faction has turned its gaze toward us. The Merlin family — a force of Magi from the east — driven by jealousy and fear of our progress, now aims to crush what we’ve built. Although their numbers are still unclear, they will bring at least a dozen official Magi. These are not mindless monsters or beasts. These are seasoned spellcasters who have lived for dozens or even hundreds of years. Beings who are sly and have all sorts of tricks up their sleeves, and they will not fight fair.”

  “This… is war!”

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