When Lusian returned to the academy, routine seemed to have settled back into place. Kara continued challenging him with stubborn determination—and losing with equal consistency. Classes drifted by in their usual monotony, and the ranking battles proceeded without incident.

  Everything changed in an instant.

  The emergency alarm thundered through the corridors, slicing through normalcy like a blade through silk.

  "Do not panic. Proceed in an orderly manner to the combat arenas," Clara, representative of Class 1A, announced, her voice steady despite the tension. She followed protocol perfectly—though her hands trembled.

  The students, uneasy yet disciplined, obeyed. Soon the arenas filled with second-, third-, and fourth-year pupils. Lusian scanned the crowd until he found Elizabeth in the distance. Their eyes met for barely a second.

  She looked away as if the contact burned.

  The rising murmur fell silent when a roar tore through the air. More than one heart seemed to stop. Lusian recognized it instantly.

  The bellow of the Forest King.

  The legendary A–Omega beast.

  Even within the game, it had been feared. And yet… it was here.

  How is this possible? he thought. This wasn't supposed to happen. There's no record of an attack like this on the academy.

  Before disbelief could settle in, Axel, the vice director, ordered the teachers to assemble. Clara hurried over, her face as pale as the rain that had begun to fall.

  "What's happening?" she asked, barely holding her voice steady.

  "Listen carefully," Axel said, a gravity replacing his usual composure. "The situation is critical. A massive monster stampede has surged out of the forest. Our regular soldiers are unavailable—they've been deployed to contain the emergency. The faculty must ensure the students' safety while we evacuate toward the capital."

  "How… how are we supposed to manage that?" Allan asked, alarmed.

  "There is no alternative," Axel replied. "Director Magnus has given the order. The soldiers will hold the monsters back. You will evacuate the students. Class A is the most capable—use them as support and move immediately. Allan, coordinate the retreat."

  Without waiting for a response, Axel strode off.

  Allan Payne, veteran combat instructor of the fourth year, took command without hesitation.

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  "Form groups according to protocol. Call the top-ranked students to lead each evacuation unit. We move now."

  He spoke calmly, and that calm became a shield, steadying morale as everything else began to fracture.

  The grounds turned into a storm of motion. Director Magnus barked orders without pause. In all his years leading the academy, he had never faced anything like this. He understood one thing above all: they had to buy time.

  If the walls fell, there would be no defense left.

  Along the front line, mages synchronized their power. Flames and wind currents fused into elemental tempests that scorched the advancing monsters. But the tide seemed endless, and mana was draining at an alarming rate.

  Axel returned, drenched, bearing grim news.

  "Director," he reported tensely, "communications are being interfered with. The devices aren't responding. We used the old signal to request reinforcements. If the capital recognizes it, help will come… though it hasn't been used in decades."

  Magnus fell silent. His gaze swept over the cracking defenses, the line of exhausted mages, and the immense shadow approaching from the forest—as if nature itself marched against them.

  At last, he spoke.

  "Good. Remain at the magical circle. I'll reinforce the knights. If the walls give way… it will be the end."

  He departed with the resolve of a man who knew there was no room for defeat.

  The evacuation groups began moving under relentless rain that turned the ground into mud.

  Along the route, they passed through a village that seemed abandoned. Doors stood open, tables still set, even lamps left burning—yet no one remained. Only the echo of interrupted life lingered in the damp air.

  "An abandoned village… that can't be right," Andrew muttered. He led one of the groups alongside several instructors. "I pass through here every week. It's always full of people."

  "Maybe they evacuated to the city when the emergency alert was issued," Elizabeth suggested, searching for a rational explanation.

  "Maybe…" Andrew murmured, unconvinced.

  He glanced at her. He knew his sister well, and the quiet tension she displayed whenever Lusian's name surfaced had not gone unnoticed.

  "By the way, what happened with Lusian?" he asked, his casual smile not entirely convincing.

  Elizabeth stiffened almost imperceptibly.

  "Lusian? Nothing. Why do you ask?"

  "Because you didn't insist he join our formation. And you seem to be avoiding him. I know you, Elizabeth… did something happen between you?"

  She lowered her gaze.

  "I told you nothing happened, Andrew. Don't push it. It annoys me." Her tone was sharper than necessary.

  Andrew was about to reply when Allan's shout from the front cut through the air like a blade.

  A group of men in black robes blocked the road ahead. A putrid, heavy mana emanated from them—like damp rot thickening the air.

  Cult members.

  At once, Alejandro, Leonardo, Roxy Briggs—Andrew's fiancée—Benjamin Armett, and others stepped forward alongside the princes. Around them, shadows and earth split open as undead clawed their way upward, rising from the soil as if summoned from their own graves.

  "Fall back!" Allan commanded. "They're Magister-level warriors—it's too dangerous for the students!"

  The plan was to regroup in the village and keep the pupils away from the fight. But before they could retreat, one of the cultists lunged at Allan with brutal force. The instructor blocked the blow, yet the impact hurled him several meters back.

  For someone at Magister–Delta rank, that was unthinkable.

  Something was weakening them.

  A demonic seal was devouring more than sixty percent of Magister-tier mana, reducing their defenses to those of a mere Lord. In real combat… that difference meant dying within seconds.

  Cordelia, Cassandra, and the other instructors realized it almost simultaneously. Their spells faltered, less effective—as though their very life force were being siphoned away.

  Allan clenched his teeth.

  They had to find the source of that magic.

  Or they would be annihilated.