The mana-train hissed to a gradual, shuddering halt at the Arcadia Central Station, venting great clouds of white steam that smelled faintly of ozone, heated iron, and the promise of a new beginning.

The metallic screech of the brakes echoed through the vast, vaulted ceiling of the terminal, a sound that marked the definitive end of the summer break.

I stepped out onto the platform, adjusting the strap of my bag over my shoulder.

The air in the capital was distinctly different from the earthy, coal-tinged scent of Selorn.

Here, the atmosphere was sharper, thinner, vibrantly charged with the hum of high-grade mana engines and the distant, ceaseless murmur of a city that refused to sleep.

It tasted of ambition and magic.

Welcome back to the snake pit," I muttered to myself, adjusting my collar.

Victor was waiting for me near the private exit, flanked by two bodyguards who looked like they ate rocks for breakfast.

He wasn't wearing his usual flashy suits; today, he was dressed in understated, expensive charcoal grey, the uniform of old money.

"Boss," he greeted, a sharp gleam in his eyes behind new, rimless glasses.

"The transfer is complete. Aegis Holdings has officially acquired the 'Black Iron' shell company Daven was using. We control his supply line for the next three months."

"Good," I said, keeping my voice low as we walked.

"Don't strangle him yet. Just... tighten the noose. Let him feel the pressure before he realizes who's holding the rope."

"Understood. Oh, and the Dawn Guild branch office in Sector 4 is operational. Chairman Denzo sends his regards. He says the recruits are 'green but hungry'."

I nodded. "I'll visit them later. For now, I have to play student."

I left Victor at the station and took a private carriage to the Academy.

As the familiar spires of the Hunter Academy came into view, piercing the azure sky, a strange sense of calm settled over me. This was my battlefield. And I knew the terrain better than anyone.

The Supreme Hall was exactly as I left it—opulent, quiet, and smelling faintly of lavender polish. My room, however, felt different. It felt... empty without the chaotic energy of the guild hall.

I locked the door, activated the privacy wards, and opened my dimensional storage.

...Master... air.....let be out..

A violet streak shot out, materializing into Nox on my bed. The Abyssal Wyrmling shook its tiny wings, letting out a puff of black smoke that smelled like ozone. It looked at me with burning purple eyes, then dramatically flopped onto its side.

...hungry... food... now...

"You just ate three Ogre cores on the train," I sighed, tossing it a chunk of high-grade mana crystal I'd picked up in the city.

Nox caught it mid-air with a snap of its jaws, crunching happily.

"Stay hidden," I warned, poking its nose. "If the dorm inspector finds a dragon, I'm claiming you're a very ugly cat."

Nox hissed, offended, but curled up under my pillow.

I spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking and organizing my inventory. My stats had stabilized, my skills were honed, and my mind was clear. But as evening approached, the notifications on my smartwatch began to ping.

[Group Chat: Team Chaos]

[Aiden: HE'S BACK! I saw the carriage! Michael, get to the cafeteria! I need to show you the new lightning move I figured out!]

[Lyra: Ignore him. He almost set his own eyebrows on fire. But yes, come eat. We saved a seat.]

[Leon: Welcome back, Michael. We have much to discuss regarding the upcoming semester curriculum.]

[Maria: ...]

[Maria: You're back? Good. We need to talk. Privately.]

I stared at Maria's message. The "Heart-Stone Incident" was clearly not forgiven. I rubbed my temples. That was a conversation I was dreading more than any boss fight.

Finally I fall Sleep..

_____________

Next Morning, Corridor

"We're back," I muttered to myself, looking up past the Academy garden at the floating spires of the Academy in the distance.

They hung in the sky like judgment, pristine and intimidating.

My vacation had been anything but restful. I had dismantled a criminal guild, cured a dying master rune-scribe, secured a financial empire through a bewildered proxy, and hatched a Mythical-grade dragon that was currently sleeping in a dimensional pocket, demanding snacks every four hours.

Compared to that, school should theoretically be a breeze. But as I scanned the sea of returning students—nobles in silk, commoners in travel-worn wool, all converging on the gates—I felt a familiar knot of tension in my stomach.

The Academy was a battlefield of a different sort, one where words cut as deep as swords and reputation was the only shield that mattered.

"Michael! Over here!"

A familiar, boisterous voice cut through the crowd noise, shattering my internal monologue.

I turned to see a knot of students standing near the main exit pillar. Leon Lionheart was waving enthusiastically, his golden hair practically glowing under the tree shade of the academy garden.

He was flanked by Aiden Stromfang, who looked surprisingly well-rested for someone who claimed his clan training was torture, and… Maria Frostheart.

I hesitated for a fraction of a second.

Maria stood slightly apart from the boys, her posture rigid, her arms crossed over her chest. She wore her Academy uniform with impeccable precision, not a crease out of place, but her expression was frosty enough to lower the ambient temperature of the platform.

The memory of the Heart-Stone incident in the quarry—the accidental proposal—hung between us like a physical barrier of ice.

"Hey," I said, approaching them with a smile that felt a little too tight. "Good to be back?"

"Something like that," Leon replied, clapping a hand on my shoulder. His grip was firm, reassuring.

"You look... sharper, Michael. Did the country air treat you well? Or did you spend the whole time in that 'secret training' of yours?"

"A bit of both," I deflected smoothly. "And you? You look like you've grown an inch."

"Training," Leon said, a confident, almost holy light in his eyes.

"I didn't waste my time. I've mastered the third form of the Lionheart style. The recoil is… manageable now."

"Show-off," Aiden groaned, stretching his arms until his joints popped.

"My clan elders had me hunting Thunder-Boars in the Storm Peaks until my hands went numb. 'Training,' they called it. I call it slave labor. I smell like ozone and pig sweat."

"It paid off, though," Lyra Braveheart said, materializing from the crowd to join us.

She looked sharp, her fiery hair tied back in a high, aggressive ponytail, a new confidence in her stride that spoke of battles won.

"I heard you cleared a C-Rank nest solo near your estate."

Aiden preened, puffing out his chest. "You know it. Just warming up for the Spire. I'm not letting Mr. Rank 1 here keep all the glory this semester."

He jabbed a thumb in my direction.

I chuckled, but my gaze drifted to Maria. She hadn't said a word yet. She was staring at a point somewhere past my left ear, her jaw set.

"Maria," I said softly. "How was the rest of your break?"

Her eyes snapped to mine. For a moment, I saw a flash of that same flustered embarrassment from the cave, but she buried it instantly under layers of noble composure.

"Productive," she said, her tone cool and clipped. "The Frostheart clan does not idle. And I assume you haven't forgotten our… pending discussion regarding certain misunderstandings?"

I winced internally. She wasn't going to let it go.

"Not at all. We'll talk. I promise."

"Good." She turned on her heel, her silver hair whipping around.

"We're going to be late. First period is a special assembly. We shouldn't be loitering."

"She's right," Leon said, checking his watch.

"Instructor Evelyn sent a message. Class A is meeting in the main lecture hall first, then moving to a specific location."

We fell into step together, walking towards the Academy gates.

The group dynamics felt familiar, grounding. Chris Blackthorn joined us near the fountain, looking stoic as ever but offering a rare, genuine smile.

Even Aurelia Miller drifted over, her analytical gaze sweeping over us as if checking for stat upgrades.

"Everyone looks… stronger," she noted, adjusting her glasses with a gleam in her eye.

"Mana density has increased across the board. Interesting. It seems the humiliation of the Midterms lit a fire under everyone."

We filed into the Class A lecture hall. It was just as I remembered it—tiered seating, polished mahogany desks, the scent of mana and chalk dust.

But the atmosphere was different. We weren't the same scattered individuals who had walked in here months ago, nervous and testing boundaries.

We were veterans of the Labyrinth, survivors of the Demon attack.

There was a cohesion now, a silent understanding among the top rankers.

I took my seat, glancing around.

Eric William sat in his usual spot in the front row, surrounded by his sycophants. He looked every bit the arrogant noble heir, his uniform tailored to perfection, but when our eyes met, there was a flicker of something new in his gaze. Not just disdain... Caution...He remembered the final match of the tournament.

He remembered the loss.

Shoosh..

The heavy oak door at the front of the room clicked open.

The chatter died instantly.

Evelyn Whitehound strode in.

(To be continued)

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