“So you’re telling me…”

  “There’s been no movement from Rein for two full days?”

  The large, powerfully built man with short, bright blond hair reclined against a luxurious leather sofa beside a roaring fireplace. Unlike the others, he wore no student robes. Instead, the fur-lined cloak draped over his shoulders like a second skin—earned, not worn.

  Alexander Whitmore murmured in a low voice, slowly shaking his head in thought.

  “Yes. After meeting Isabella, the next day he merely wandered the Kingdom Zone—eating, strolling around with his friends.”

  The man standing opposite him, cloaked in a long robe, spoke in a rasping voice that sounded like a whisper from a grave.

  “By evening, he returned to the ‘Devil’s Den’ as usual.”

  Alexander frowned slightly, his gaze never leaving the dancing flames.

  “How close could your shadow get to him, Oliver?”

  “Hah… after Isabella destroyed my shadow right in front of him, I didn’t dare approach too closely,” Oliver Pembroke replied with a faint sigh before dropping into a chair opposite Alexander. “He might already be wary. I could only follow from a distance.”

  He continued calmly.

  “From roughly fifty to sixty feet away, my shadow saw them ordering barbecue and eating leisurely. After that, they stopped by a cloak shop, spent nearly an hour browsing a spellbook store, and finally ended up at a Vitreol drink shop. Everything looked like nothing more than the routine of ordinary students.”

  Alexander rested his chin on one hand. The firelight reflected in his eyes, cold and unfathomable.

  “Hm… Nothing seems out of place. And that is exactly why I don’t trust it. That first-year brat could shatter everything we’ve prepared if we grow careless for even a moment.”

  “You might be overthinking this, Alexander.”

  A syrup-sweet voice drifted out from the shadowed corner of the room—slow, deliberate. A tall, slender figure swayed forward, firelight tracing curves deliberately accentuated by clothing designed to exude confidence.

  She was a third-year student whose presence carried an unsettling pressure. Crimson lips, ruby-red eyes, and long, flame-colored hair cascading in soft waves—she looked even more incendiary than the fire burning beside Alexander.

  “Oliver’s shadow followed him for two whole days,” the red-haired girl continued confidently as she stopped beside Alexander’s sofa, one hand resting casually on the backrest. “Maybe he intends to fight alone out of arrogance. Or perhaps he’ll drag along those two DVM trash students as decorations. Either way, it doesn’t concern us, does it?”

  Without lifting his gaze from the fire, Alexander spoke evenly.

  “So the Russell family has successfully placed one of their own among the officials overseeing this duel, correct, Charlotte?”

  Charlotte Russell laughed lightly, trailing her fingers along the leather sofa in evident amusement.

  “Everything is in order. My family’s representative is already seated among the adjudicators. That’s why I told you—no matter how the duel unfolds in the arena… tomorrow’s winner will already be decided.”

  The polite yet firm knocking interrupted their conversation. Alexander gave a brief signal. The massive carved wooden door opened, and a Whitmore family servant entered, bowing deeply.

  “Lord Alexander, all members of the Student Council from every faction have arrived at Whitmore Manor.”

  Alexander’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. He rose slowly, adjusting the fur cloak over his shoulders with elegant composure, then turned his gaze upon Oliver and Charlotte—eyes glinting with ruthless intent.

  “It’s time to sweep away the thorns.”

  …

  …

  A figure clad in jet-black light armor, masked in cold iron, raced soundlessly across treetops toward Whitmore Manor. Beneath the mask was not a Shapeshifter assassin.

  It was Rein.

  After receiving insider information from Joanna via Swifty—Mira’s trusted messenger bird—Rein immediately understood that tonight marked a decisive move on the board.

  Alexander had summoned all members of the Winter Faction for an emergency gathering, along with members of Spring and the Independents, to deal with the “problem” Rein had caused—and the mysterious murders shaking the Student Council.

  The only thing standing between Rein and his plan was Oliver’s shadow, tracking him like a bloodhound.

  Fortunately, Oliver’s own caution worked against him.

  After Isabella destroyed his shadow, Oliver no longer dared approach too closely. Rein exploited that hesitation, spending the entire day behaving normally to lull his watcher into complacency.

  When night fell, Rein activated Vortex Drive, launching himself from behind the DVM at a speed that tore through the air itself.

  [LIZ: Forget tracking shadows—even if Oliver came in person, he wouldn’t be able to see something crossing his blind spot in the darkness for a fraction of a second like that.]

  Exactly. The more relaxed we appear, the harder it becomes for them to keep up when we suddenly change gears.

  Rein replied silently.

  The black-clad figure landed lightly atop a snow-covered roof. He switched to Haste for normal movement across sloped surfaces—conserving mana and minimizing detection risk—then leapt across branches and rooftops with the agility of a black arrow.

  Soon, he entered the Harmony Zone.

  While observing from a tall tree, Rein noticed the dim glow of lanterns from an ornate carriage rolling along the main road below.

  “Lucky me… a complimentary guide just showed up.”

  He murmured beneath the mask and followed silently through the treetops, keeping just enough distance for Mana Vision to maintain a lock without detection.

  Before long, brilliant clusters of mana lamps appeared ahead—like fallen stars standing defiantly in a dark valley.

  Rein paused atop a snow-laden branch, eyes fixed on the building before him.

  Whitmore Manor at night did not resemble the oppressive darkness of the Department of Dark Magic. Instead, it proclaimed wealth and ancient authority through flawless Neo-Gothic lines—designed to impress, and to intimidate.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The glow of mana lamps revealed pale sandstone walls cutting starkly against the black sky. Spired towers thrust upward as if challenging the heavens themselves, while stained-glass windows reflected warm light from within.

  Before the manor stretched a meticulously trimmed geometric garden, symmetrical hedges framing a broad stone courtyard leading to the main entrance.

  The luxurious carriage slowed to a halt at the front steps, servants in full livery rushing forward to open the doors.

  Whether in his old world or this miracle-laden realm of magic, one truth remained unchanged—

  the elite feasted atop mountains of wealth,

  while commoners learned how to endure the cold.

  Hidden within the shadows, Rein pressed his body against the icy bark of a massive tree, eyes locked on Whitmore Manor blazing with hundreds of mana lamps. Their golden light shimmered across falling snowflakes—like flickering embers falling through the night.

  This dangerous beauty forced Rein to be especially cautious—because the snow-blanketed ground would betray him the moment he touched it.

  That was why he had relied on physical skill fused with magic, gliding along rooftops and tree branches the entire way like a wraith.

  He swept his gaze across Whitmore Manor, now framed by a dense ring of guards—both Guardian Units in the Student Council’s standard uniform, and another group in black with red trim, more intimidating in presence, likely the Whitmore family’s private bodyguards.

  “Hm… around fifty,” Rein murmured. “The Whitmores really aren’t ordinary.”

  Behind the cold iron mask, his eyes fixed on a blind corner high on the manor’s roof—roughly a hundred feet from the treetop where he lay concealed. With his body enhanced and Haste reinforcing his movement, that distance was no different from an ordinary stride.

  But… the problem wasn’t the distance.

  It was the mana detection array—a Detection Field—woven over the entire manor like an invisible spiderweb. If he charged in carelessly, it would be the equivalent of shaking the grass and waking the snake.

  Just as Rein prepared to activate Mana Vision again to scan for weaknesses in the mana circuitry—

  His eyes snapped to a streak of black shadow slicing through the darkness from the opposite side.

  Fast. Silent.

  It landed precisely on the very rooftop position he had been eyeing.

  Rein narrowed his eyes at once, his heart quickening with a mix of awe and suspicion.

  Because the figure wore jet-black light armor and a cold iron mask…

  Exactly like his own.

  Down to every last detail.

  Shapeshifter…

  A satisfied sneer formed beneath Rein’s mask. The plan he had laid out was already turning more entertaining than he’d predicted.

  What is this—some kind of Villain-Con?

  …

  …

  Inside the grand conference chamber of Whitmore Manor, they transformed the space into a temple of power.

  Marble walls bore high-relief sculptures and oil paintings—

  every surface screaming the victories of Winter’s ancestors.

  Above, a crystal chandelier glittered, its light dancing with the flames surging inside a carved stone fireplace.

  At the center stood a long table of polished black wood, glossy as a mirror—long enough to seat twelve high-backed chairs. Yet the air around it burned like a volcano on the verge of eruption, even though the meeting had not officially begun.

  “If you want to win so badly… why don’t you fight yourself?” Sophia snapped, her voice echoing without the slightest respect for the setting. The orange-ponytailed girl folded her arms and planted one boot squarely on the expensive table, her shameless posture instantly stoking fury among the pureblood mages around her.

  “As the holder of fourth place in the most recent Arcadia Grand Magic Tournament, you are the one with the highest chance of crushing that commoner brat,” William Stirling shot back in an arrogant tone.

  He was a pampered young man whose every detail demanded perfection—brown hair parted neatly down the middle, clothing without a single crease, as though freshly pressed moments ago. His gaze toward Sophia dripped with disgust, as if her manners were ‘low’ by definition.

  “At the very least, you bear the name of a noble house within this Student Council—even if you’re only an ‘illegitimate child.’” William spoke with a smile that pretended to be kind. “I offer this advice out of goodwill, Sophia. You shouldn’t stain or degrade Lancaster blood any further.”

  As he spoke, he drew a silk handkerchief from his pocket and delicately brushed imaginary dust from the tabletop, seated opposite her—clearly worried the dirt from Sophia’s boots might drift onto his clothing.

  In the next instant, the handkerchief in William’s fingers was severed cleanly into two pieces.

  William froze, eyes wide as he stared at the fabric halves drifting down to the floor—then he barked out in shock.

  “You—!”

  “If I hear the words ‘illegitimate child’ spill from your rotten mouth one more time, William…” Sophia’s voice was flat—so flat it turned chilling. But her eyes were razor-sharp. “I guarantee your tongue will split in two before your mouth can even close.”

  Sophia remained in the same posture. She didn’t so much as twitch a finger.

  Yet the compressed air pressure surrounding William made it unmistakably clear—she could, and would, act on that threat.

  William clenched his jaw so hard the veins at his temple bulged. Rage surged… but deeper still was a tremor of fear. He knew the orange-haired girl before him was not someone to toy with.

  Sophia Lancaster was the exception to every rule in Arcadia—

  a prodigious close-range assault mage, branded “the most vicious in the academy,” despite being only a second-year student.

  “The Orange Tempest” wasn’t a nickname.

  It was a warning.

  In the most recent AGMT, thousands in the stands said the same thing: they could barely see her attacks at all. The only thing their eyes caught was a streak of orange tearing through the air like silent lightning—then the opponent collapsed before they could even cast a defensive spell.

  William thought of something.

  His fear twisted—slowly—into a smile.

  “There are persistent rumors that you’ve been ‘imprisoned’ beneath the Lancaster family’s hollow honor,” the neatly parted young man said, staring into Sophia’s eyes. “At first, I didn’t want to believe it. I mean—how could someone like the ‘Orange Tempest’ submit so easily?”

  “Everyone knows you belong in the Department of Battlemage—where they combine magic with the body to create formless destruction, unlike the refined elemental sorcery of ‘proper’ mages.” His tone sharpened with contempt.

  “But because your family wants to preserve ‘elegance’ and a noble image, you were forced into a narrow cage—asked to make the wind behave in the Department of Elemental Magic instead… Pathetic, really.”

  “And so?” Sophia replied evenly. But something sharp ignited behind her eyes.

  “It means you’re not as free as you keep trying to convince yourself, Sophia. In the end, you’re just—”

  The conference room doors slammed open, cutting William’s taunt short—

  and a large man in a costly fur-lined cloak stepped in, his stride saturated with authority.

  “Now, now… aren’t we all members of the Student Council—one big ‘family’?”

  The voice was deep and steady—heavy enough to still the room.

  Alexander Whitmore strode into the center of the chamber. The mana aura rolling off him flattened the air; the pressure crushed downward—and Sophia’s rising fury was forced flat in a single breath.

  “Alexander…” Sophia frowned. The violent winds that had been gathering around her dissolved at once, leaving only a faint, harmless draft.

  That mana… He’s reached Primary Stratosphere-tier already.

  How much did the Whitmores pour into him?

  Sophia ground her teeth, recalculating in silence.

  Alexander’s tall, powerful frame moved with the ease of someone who expected obedience. Two Winter council members followed behind him like loyal guards. Each step made the air feel heavier. The council members who had been whispering fell silent—awed into obedience.

  “Alexander Whitmore…”

  Isabella, who had been seated beside Sophia the entire time, rose without haste. She gave a slight nod—formal, respectful—to the manor’s owner and the most influential Student Council chairman.

  “Congratulations on successfully refining your mana,” Isabella said, her tone calm—carefully weighted. “Only fitting, for the Whitmores—the inheritors of the Disciples of the Fire God.”

  Alexander lowered himself into the head chair, an attendant sliding it into place with utmost deference. He lifted an eyebrow slightly as his gaze met the long-haired girl standing at his right.

  “After Lance died… leaving Isabella—our Darkness Princess—as the only Stratosphere-level member in the council… would be a little too lonely, wouldn’t it?”

  He finished with a broad, sly smile, then waved a hand—as if granting permission. His posture was relaxed, yet the authority radiating from him threatened everyone in the room equally.

  “Now then… as chairman of the Student Council, I officially declare this special session open. Today’s agenda concerns the duel challenge issued by a first-year student—Rein Rhys—and the progress of the murder investigation.”

  These entries expand the lore and mechanics introduced in this chapter.

  Completely optional—read only if you enjoy diving deeper into the system.

  The current chairman of the Arcadia Student Council and heir to the powerful Whitmore family. A Primary Stratosphere-tier mage whose presence and refined control of mana pressure allow him to dominate any room. Known for calculating ambition, authority, and a chilling calm. His family is rumored to be descended from the Disciples of the Fire God.

  A third-year student affiliated with the influential Russell family. Confident, dangerous, and politically savvy, Charlotte exudes a seductive yet unsettling presence. She arranged for her family’s representative to infiltrate the council of duel adjudicators, implying the match outcome may already be influenced.

  A third-year student who uses shadow magic for reconnaissance. He previously attempted to spy on Rein using a shadow clone, but after Isabella destroyed it, he began keeping his distance. Despite his caution, Rein successfully deceives and evades him.

  A mysterious figure identical in appearance to Rein, down to every detail, appearing at the same rooftop Rein intended to infiltrate. Their sudden presence hints at larger conspiracies or possibly a magical impersonation. Rein reacts with amusement, comparing the gathering of players to “Villain-Con.”

  A second-year student infamous for her close-range combat ability and unorthodox style. Despite being forced into the Elemental Magic Department by her family, her true aptitude aligns with the Battlemage path. Feared for her speed, aggression, and merciless efficiency in battle.

  A pompous and arrogant noble who disrespects Sophia by referring to her as an “illegitimate child.” His magic is clean and refined, but his fear of Sophia’s strength is clear. He represents the aristocratic disdain toward hybrid mages and those who deviate from traditional noble ideals.

  Still referred to as the “Darkness Princess” of the student council, now the only known Stratosphere-tier member since Lance’s death. Maintains composure and balance in tense political environments. Acknowledges Alexander’s rise without hostility, hinting at a deeper game of influence.

  A luxurious Neo-Gothic estate saturated with mana lamps and heavy security. Symbolizes ancient power, political wealth, and noble privilege. Protected by both visible guards and a Detection Field—a web-like mana array that alerts to intrusions.

  An inscribed, powerful mana-based alarm system spread across Whitmore Manor. Functions like a magical tripwire or sensor net, sensitive to any unnatural mana movement. Requires careful navigation or stealth-based bypassing to avoid detection.