Central-Eastern Region, Dratol

  Unlike the crystal-clear skies of the central region, Varidan’s territory lay smothered beneath churning dark clouds and restless gales. Students and instructors hurried along the stone walkways, their pace quickened by the threat of Varidan’s infamous downpour. When it rained here, it poured.

  Dean Hensley Maxine moved against the wind, head slightly bowed, muttering to herself as her trench coat snapped wildly around her legs. The bands restraining her hair strained to keep it in place. She ignored the greetings from students and staff; her thoughts were elsewhere.

  Ahead, an unnaturally slanted, dome-shaped structure dominated the landscape. As she neared it, only a handful of masked instructors and guards became visible. A hundred feet from the monumental building, a colorless portal shimmered into existence.

  “Dean Hensley, I’ve been expecting you. It’s good to see you again.”

  Hensley halted for the first time, lifting her gaze. A faint frown touched her lips as her hazel eyes narrowed at the silhouette of a feminine figure behind the wavering portal.

  “Dean, forgive us for making you walk all the way here,” the masked instructor said quickly. “We’re still configuring the portal to accommodate you.”

  With a sequence of warped gestures, the portal shifted from translucent to an eerie purple-black.

  “My apologies for the delay. Please proceed.”

  Hensley stepped through the swirling mass and vanished.

  A heartbeat later, she materialized inside a luxuriously furnished office. To her left stood a towering wooden bookshelf stacked with tightly packed tomes. To her right, a rotating, animated map—an elaborate version of the one given to all Varidan students—hovered midair, its glow the only illumination in the room. In front of her sat an ash-brown desk with two files arranged neatly upon it, a leather chair behind it.

  A figure appeared at Hensley’s side. “Welcome, Dean. It’s a pleasure to have you.”

  Hensley offered a faint smile but didn’t acknowledge the woman directly. Instead, she crossed the room, sank into the leather chair, propped her feet on the table, and picked up one of the files.

  “My schedule is tight,” she said, tone flat. “Give your report.”

  Her gaze flicked toward the speaker, a petite instructor in a pristine white trench coat. A white rabbit mask covered her face; only the eye slits remained, revealing unsettling crimson irises.

  “We’ve concluded our investigation into Pyren Valley Incident,” the instructor said, bowing.

  “What are your findings?” Hensley asked, eyes scanning the file.

  “We can confirm the prime suspect, Gareet, had no involvement.”

  Hensley nodded absently and continued reading. The dossier elaborated on the instructor’s summary.

  “Forward the report to Varidan Towers,” she ordered. “But leave him in the gallows for another day or two.”

  She tossed the file into a nearby receptacle. Flames erupted at once, reducing it to ash.

  Her attention returned to the masked woman. “And the secondary suspect? What do you have?”

  She reached for the second file but didn’t open it, waiting.

  “We reached a similar conclusion with Student 009,” the instructor said. “However… I noted some irregularities.”

  Hensley’s brows rose. “Oh? What kind?”

  The instructor snapped her fingers, and another file materialized on the desk. “These are my personal observations on the target.”

  Hensley opened the new file. With each page she turned, her expression tightened.

  “You’re certain?” she asked, voice firmer.

  “Seventy percent.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “We lost track. Unlike the others, his amulet’s signal isn’t consistently active. I suspect he possesses an item that blocks tracking. Not unheard of, but… this is the first time I’ve seen an E-rank student use one.”

  Hensley straightened, meeting her gaze. “Let me confirm this. While monitoring Student 009, a member of your team was ambushed by six Awakened?”

  The instructor nodded.

  “And instead of returning to the Academy, he stayed at a front for a guild?”

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

  Another nod.

  “And an E-rank completed two missions above his rank—alone—and was detected near the Valar incident?”

  “Yes, Dean,” she said, uncertainty creeping into her tone.

  Hensley drummed her fingers on the polished surface, eyes distant.

  D-rank parties struggle with the Valar Pits… and an E-rank supposedly cleared it solo? Impossible.

  Her gaze drifted to the initial file. First Pyren’s Valley, now Valar… and the Armstrongs circulated news of his death. Something is off. A student at this level shouldn’t attract such attention.

  “Have you looked into his sponsor?” she asked.

  “Yes, Dean. A reputable merchant in Dratol.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Aldo Gibbs.”

  “I’ve never heard of him.”

  “That’s understandable, Dean. He’s not someone who would cross your radar.”

  Hensley returned to the newer file. “This guild—Thieves of the Night—any suspicious activity?”

  “None that concerns Varidan.”

  Hensley reclined slightly. I don’t like this. Something about this kid is wrong.

  “Dean?” the instructor pressed. “Your recommendation?”

  “We lack sufficient information to determine whether he’s a threat,” Hensley said. “Raise his priority status to B for the next three months. Inform Varidan Towers.”

  The instructor nodded solemnly.

  “Find him,” Hensley added. “He is to return to the Academy for debriefing.”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “That will be all.”

  A portal opened beneath the instructor’s feet, swallowing her whole before snapping shut.

  Hensley exhaled through her nose and tapped the desk. Shimmering ripples spread across the polished surface, and the remaining files sank into the wood like stones slipping beneath water.

  Those elders are going to tear into me for giving an E-rank student this much priority…

  She sighed. What’s done is done. Better to be overly diligent than risk another Vakaz incident.

  She rose from her seat. “That reminds me, Arlette said she had something to discuss with me. Maybe I should—”

  Her words died as a blue portal, shot through with oily black streaks, blossomed open in the center of the office.

  “Hensley, why do you suddenly look so serious?” The voice was smooth, deep, and disarmingly warm.

  Her lips parted. A bright smile overtook her face. When did he come back?

  An elegantly dressed man stepped through the portal. Tall—easily over six feet—with hair like spun gold, he wore a caramel safari jacket, gray trousers, and thick desert boots. A white trench coat hung casually over one shoulder. In his right hand, he carried a small wooden cane. Calling him handsome would’ve been an understatement; even his smile could thaw the coldest heart.

  Hensley crossed her arms beneath her chest and met his gaze. His irises glowed—pure, luminous gold.

  “Amittai. When did you return, and how did you know I was here?”

  He chuckled. “A few days ago. Forgive me for not telling you. I wanted to see that smile of yours.”

  “I see you still haven’t dropped that habit.” She arched a brow. “As a Reeves, are you sure you want the public thinking you’re a playboy?”

  “Does it matter?” Amittai spread his hands. “I’m a Reeves. What can they do?”

  Hensley clicked her fingers. An elegant chair materialized behind him. “Sit. And does Arianna know you’re back? She’s been pestering me because you vanished without a word.”

  Amittai coughed into his fist. “I—haven’t seen her. As her teacher, I can’t let her grow too dependent on me.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Hensley drawled. “Keep telling yourself that. She’ll handle you in her own way.”

  Amittai let out a sharp laugh, grinning wide.

  “As much as I’d love to catch up,” Hensley continued, “I’m pressed for time.” Her tone stiffened. “And I know you wouldn’t come here unless it was important.”

  “You know me too well.” His smile faded. “Can we speak safely here?”

  “Wait.” Hensley clapped twice.

  Her trench coat liquefied, turning into a viscous black slime that spread across the room. Darkness swallowed everything. Only the raven-shaped birthmark on Hensley’s forehead remained visible, glowing faintly.

  “You can talk now.”

  Amittai leaned forward. “Something—or someone—has disrupted the balance among the Omen Lords. Several Grand Dungeons are already in turmoil.”

  Hensley’s breath hitched. Few people knew threats beyond the realm of the è?ù existed.

  She swung a fist reflexively, forgetting there was no table. “W-What do you mean something disturbed the balance?!”

  “Calm down,” Amittai said softly. “It’s serious, but not catastrophic… not yet.”

  He shifted his weight. “The Lords themselves are confused. But one thing is certain: the Omen Treaty has been broken.”

  Hensley’s pulse quickened. “What does that mean long-term?”

  “The Grand Dungeons will continue to unravel. The latest descent in Valar is only the beginning.”

  “So you’re saying… war is coming?”

  He nodded. “Fortunately, it should remain within the Grand Dungeons.”

  Hensley swallowed. “Why does it feel like you’re saving the worst for last?”

  A dry smile tugged at his lips. “You do know me too well. The bridge connecting the Grand Dungeons has begun to form.”

  Hensley froze. Her hair rose in a sudden gust. “Amittai. Please tell me this is one of your jokes. Please.”

  “That’s the least of our worries.”

  Her voice cracked. “What could possibly be worse?”

  “The Eight Gates have begun another ascension.”

  “What?!” she gasped, rising to her feet.

  “Hensley—calm yourself!” Amittai lunged forward, gripping her shoulders. “Your heart. You can’t let your emotions spike like that. Romolu’s poison still hasn’t been fully purged.”

  He eased her back into her seat.

  “The seventh gate has been vacant far too long,” he said quietly. “The others are preparing to choose the next master.”

  Hensley inhaled shakily. “Who are the frontrunners?”

  “No idea yet. Each gate leader has already selected their preferred candidates, but their identities are sealed. I’m investigating.”

  He reached into his pocket and retrieved a wooden amulet. “Take this.”

  She accepted it silently.

  “It holds the blood essence of seven nightmare dragons. It should alleviate your symptoms.”

  Hensley tightened her grip on the amulet.

  “I haven’t informed the elders,” Amittai continued. “I wanted you to know first. Also—be careful where you send your students. The Scavengers have resurfaced. The Knights of Bordon say they’ve grown bolder.”

  He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and massaged gently. “Everything will be fine. I won’t let the Vakaz Incident repeat.”

  Hensley looked up into his golden eyes. “T-Thank you, Amittai. If only I hadn’t been careless—”

  “Stop,” he cut in softly. “Don’t revisit that. We survived. Let’s make better memories—happier ones.”

  She nodded, wordless.

  He grinned. “You’re a dean now. Act like it. You’re not that little—Ow!”

  Hensley pinched his hand.

  “Go give your report before the elders make your life miserable. And stop dodging Arianna.”

  “Aye, Captain.” He saluted playfully. “See you later.”

  His body dissolved into drifting stardust.

  Hensley clapped once. The barrier dissolved, restoring the room.

  It’s only been twenty years since that traitor died… and they’ve already found seven successors.

  Her eyes hardened as she squeezed the amulet.

  Those bastards will pay for what they did to us. I’ll make sure of it.