Interrogation Room,

Inside the fifth cell, the air trembled with screams. The leader's throat was raw, his voice breaking as waves of agony coursed through him. Outside the transparent barrier, every professor wore a grim expression.

Zane stood quietly beside Corvin, arms crossed, his expression calm — but deep inside, a flicker of amusement shimmered behind those violet eyes.

Corvin's tone cracked through the room.

"Tell me!!!"

The leader gasped, shaking, his body restrained by magic cuffs and curse runes crawling across his skin.

"O-our organization… it has many levels! I'm just the lowest! Please… I don't know more!"

Corvin's eyes narrowed. His hand lifted.

The six purple circles behind him spun faster, and the phantasmal needles embedded in the man's spine twisted deeper.

The leader screamed again — a sound that rattled even the professors watching.

"Speak!!!" Corvin roared, his voice booming through the reinforced chamber.

"I–I just got orders! They told us to eliminate the first-year students of Astralis Arcanum! They gave us tools, instructions… where to place them! I swear, I don't know anything else!"

"Who do you serve? Who ordered you?!" Corvin pressed, his mana rising.

The leader shook violently, eyes bloodshot. "I can't… I can't say—"

A sharp crack echoed.

Zane's gaze flicked to the leader's wrist — the Hexlock Charm had fractured. Fine black lines snaked across the silver band before it shattered completely into dull fragments.

Corvin's eyes widened. "The curse—it's about to activate!"

Before Corvin could react further, Zane's calm voice cut through.

"If you can't tell us that… then tell us why you killed your spy. The boy."

The leader's trembling stopped. For a moment, silence fell. Then his lips moved — but the voice that came wasn't his.

"...His role was fulfilled. He was of no use."

Zane's eyes sharpened. So it wasn't his will…

The leader's confusion was clear as the realization hit him — he hadn't meant to say that. His body began to convulse violently, swelling slightly as his eyes turned pure white.

"You can't win…" he croaked. "They are everywhere… Surrender...

Our Lords are coming…"

His final words echoed like a chant.

"Glory to the Vassel!"

Then his body burst — not just the head, but the entire form — into a spray of black blood that splattered across the glass barrier.

Corvin was already in motion, throwing up a multi-layered barrier that shielded both himself and Zane. The black fluid hissed and steamed where it touched the walls.

When the silence finally settled, Corvin lowered his hand, his expression dark.

"…What the hell are we dealing with?"

Zane's face mirrored seriousness, though behind that mask, his thoughts were distant.

That reaction… that confusion. He didn't want to speak of Arin. Something forced him to.

Corvin bent slightly, picking up the fractured remains of the silver band. The once-bright runes were now dull and lifeless.

Both men stepped out of the fifth cell. Outside, Lucen and the other professors turned. The weight in the air was palpable — grim, suffocating.

Lucen's gaze was cold, even though he had seen everything he still asked in low voice.

"Report."

Corvin exhaled. "The Hexlock failed. The curse consumed the host entirely."

Silence followed — even Zane looked thoughtful even though its all acting.

The smell of burnt mana still lingered in the air as the last traces of black blood evaporated under the purification barrier.

Corvin exhaled sharply, his brows furrowed.

"...This is bad," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "This 'Vassel' organization is too mysterious. We still don't know much about them."

Lucen crossed his arms, his tone deep and measured.

"Hmm… they're not just criminals or cultists. They're the mysterious enemy we've been sensing in the shadows for months."

Iralyn's eyes flickered uneasily. "The curse itself shouldn't be normal either… that kind of binding wasn't normal orthodox magic."

Mira adjusted her glasses, her expression tight.

"Even though that man claimed to be the lowest tier in their ranks, the curse that bound him was powerful enough to shatter an S-rank cursed artifact. That's not something ordinary organizations could manage."

Corvin clenched his fist. "I still don't understand… who—or what—are they serving? That man said something about 'Lords coming.' What could he possibly—"

A calm, resonant voice interrupted from behind them.

"He was talking about the Abyssals."

Every head turned at once.

The professors stiffened—none of them had sensed a presence. Yet the one who stood at the entrance radiated no hostility, only a quiet, commanding pressure that made the air itself hum.

Zane's lips twitched into a small, knowing smile before he quickly hid it behind his usual calm expression.

The man who spoke stepped into the light — tall and poised, his every movement carrying the sharp grace of a blade unsheathed. His super light blue hair, nearly luminescent, was swept back in neat layers that glowed faintly under the arcane lights. His eyes, a piercing icy blue, held clarity and authority that could silence even storms.

He was dressed in tailored attire that balanced formality with practicality — a fitted jacket with understated silver trim, sleek trousers, and finely crafted boots designed for agile movement. At his side hung a beautifully forged longsword in a polished scabbard, its hilt adorned with pale blue accents that mirrored the hue of his hair and eyes.

Iralyn 's eyes widened slightly. "It can't be—Master!!"

Lucen exhaled, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You finally returned, huh… Chairman."

The man stopped beside Lucen, his presence effortlessly grounding the entire hall. His gaze swept over the fractured cell, the remains of the shattered artifact, and then lingered briefly on Zane — just long enough for an unspoken recognition to pass.

Caelum Lysander.The Chairman of Astralis Arcanum — and one of the most formidable swordsmen alive.

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.

.

Iralyn blinked in disbelief, her voice trembling between awe and emotion.

"Master… where did you suddenly appear from after leaving for five years?" she asked, stepping closer, her eyes wide. "And why are you looking so young…?"

Caelum smiled faintly, the corners of his lips softening as he reached out and gently patted her head.

"Same as ever, aren't you, Iralyn?" he said warmly. "But I can tell—you've grown strong."

A faint blush crept across Iralyn's cheeks. "I-I'm not a kid anymore, Master…"

Caelum chuckled, a quiet, genuine laugh. "Hahaha… so it seems."

His gaze shifted next to Mira Elesyn, his calm eyes assessing her mana like he was reading through her essence.

"Looks like Aldren taught you well," he said. "You've reached a strength similar to Iralyn's."

Mira adjusted her posture slightly, her tone respectful yet composed.

"Welcome back, Chairman."

Caelum nodded with an approving hum.

Corvin, who had been standing beside Zane, looked utterly stunned. He'd heard the name before, but never imagined he would meet him.

"T-The honor is mine, Chairman! It's… it's truly a privilege to meet the legendary Caelum Lysander!"

Caelum tilted his head slightly, sensing the faint signature of Corvin's mana.

"Hmm… that mana structure—you're not by chance a student of Yseldra, are you?"

Corvin blinked in surprise. "Yes, sir! I was indeed trained under her guidance."

He bowed deeply.

Caelum gave a small, knowing smile and moved past him, his boots echoing lightly on the marble floor.

His gaze landed on Varris Denholm, the tall, broad-shouldered instructor who had been silent since the beginning.

Varris simply nodded, acknowledging him.

Caelum returned the nod with a faint smirk.

"Same as ever…" he murmured quietly, a flicker of nostalgia passing through his eyes.

Caelum stepped forward until he stood directly before Lucen.

The room fell silent — even the faint hum of mana seemed to still.

"Lucen," Caelum said evenly.

"Caelum," Lucen replied, his tone calm but heavy.

In an instant, their auras flared — light blue radiance bloomed from Caelum, serene yet sharp like the edge of a blade, while orangish-golden flames coiled around Lucen, pulsing with restrained intensity.

The air itself trembled. Papers on nearby desks fluttered. The glass walls shivered under the pressure of two overwhelming forces.

For everyone else in the room, breathing became difficult.

Varris gritted his teeth, his bulging frame tense as he forced his stance to hold.

Iralyn's knees nearly buckled — her barrier flickered instinctively as she gasped under the crushing pressure.

Her eyes darted toward Zane, who stood a few feet away — perfectly calm, hands in pockets, a faint smile curving his lips.

He's completely fine…? she thought, stunned.

I knew he was strong, but… to stand unaffected between the Chairman and Vice-Chairman's auras?

Then, just as quickly as it began, the pressure vanished.

Both auras receded like tides pulling back into the sea.

Lucen's stern expression softened. "You've completely surpassed me, haven't you…"

Caelum let out an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his neck slightly.

"Haha… perhaps just a little," he said lightly.

And then, without another word, the two men stepped forward — and embraced.

Years of friendship and respect echoed silently in that brief moment.

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.

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Finally, Caelum's gaze shifted toward Zane. His calm blue eyes seemed to study him for a moment — the faintest hint of recognition flashing within them.

Lucen gestured with a smile. "Let me introduce him—"

But Caelum raised a hand gently, interrupting. "No need," he said quietly. "I know him."

Lucen blinked, taken aback. "You… do?"

Caelum stepped closer to Zane, his expression softening as realization settled in.

"Now I understand why Zayne told me I'd recognize his brother," he murmured. "The resemblance is uncanny."

For a brief moment, his thoughts flickered.

Only the eyes differ… Zayne's was light purple, while his… are deep purple .

Zane's lips curled into a faint, effortless smile. He slipped smoothly into the act.

"So, you met my brother," he said with calm composure. "Nice to meet you, Chairman. I'm Zane Creed."

Zane chuckled lightly, the air easing again as he extended a hand — the faint trace of amusement lingering in his eyes.

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