With only two hours to go before sunrise, Mart was putting on his sports clothes. It was the last day of classes for the week, and he was determined not to break his workout routine whenever possible.

In bed, wrapped in soft white blankets, Deniris slept soundly. From her expression, she seemed to be dreaming something pleasant or sleeping comfortably.

Mart placed a demonic barrier on the window and door before leaving, so he could be aware if anyone approached the room.

...

As he walked through the corridors of the Academy, he remained alert to his surroundings to see if anyone was watching him.

In addition to his immediate surroundings, Mart had already made sure that the mid-level demons sent by the Republican Council were not corrupted by the Demon God's energy, but he still did not rule out the possibility that one or more of them could be part of the conspiratorial groups.

...

Mart entered the closed-door training camp and saw Moraf sitting pensively, leaning against one of the walls.

"What's going on, my young friend?" Mart asked in a relaxed and cheerful tone.

""Senior, I'll leave the archduchy when I graduate. They won't accept my engagement to Mereida."

Mart smiled, shook his head, and then said:

"You can follow me. I'll give you a job as one of my commanders. I need loyal and powerful people by my side."

"I won't forget your offer," Moraf nodded, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Yes, if I can get the powerful antagonist to become a commander under my command, the chances of saving this country and achieving my ambitions will increase," thought Mart, who was suddenly freed from his introspection by Meleic's words.

"If Nirian finds out about the offer you made to Moraf, she won't stop harassing you for a long time. She seems like an impassive woman, but when something bothers her or she likes something, she can be quite determined and somewhat capricious," said Meleic, who had just entered the training ground.

When the three were ready to train, Mart placed a demonic barrier at the gates of the training ground.

Meleic had already drawn his scimitar.

Moraf, with determination in his eyes, wielded his blue sword.

Mart held a spiral-tipped blade in each hand and made 10 more blades float in the air above him.

"Let's begin!" exclaimed Meleic as he infused his demonic energy into the sharp blade of the powerful scimitar.

Bang! Bang!...

...

During Mart's training sessions with Meleic and Moraf, he subtly increased the amount of power he used in each session because he wanted to ensure that Meleic and Moraf became stronger and stronger.

Neither of them disappointed Mart. Without realizing what Mart was doing, they managed to keep up with the training, which resulted in a boost to their power levels and combat experience.

...

The spiral-tipped blades were relatively easily cut or dodged by Moraf, which showed his progress.

On the other hand, Mart kept his guard up and always moved using wind spells while creating demonic barriers to slow Meleic's movements and prevent the powerful scimitar from getting close.

Mart also used cutting wind spells that he had been perfecting to improve his versatility in handling spells in a real situation.

"This antagonist has overwhelming growth potential. He has already reached the midpoint of the fourth rank, and his skills as a swordsman are improving every day. I believe that at this rate, in a year he will reach the fifth rank; is the Arcariz lineage powerful, or does he possess superior talent?" Mart continued to cast spells and walk in the air on some horizontally positioned needles that he had made float, still controlling his distance from Moraf and Meleic.

...

When the training ended, Mart watched Moraf and Meleic talking.

"I think that in a year or a little over a year, Moraf will surpass Meleic, especially since Meleic lost one of his arms. He's a warrior, he must have already realized Moraf's potential," Mart concluded in his mind as he shook his head, then said goodbye to the two and headed back to his room.

•••

Mart entered her room.

He took off his sports clothes and went into the bathroom where Deniris was showering. He hugged her, and they both felt the water running over their naked bodies.

"I'll get you the resources you need to become stronger and stronger," Mart said as he kissed her neck.

Deniris' rabbit ears twitched subtly with each kiss and each caress she received from Mart.

...

Several minutes later.

Deniris had put on a simple dark blue dress that Mart had in her demonic bag. Ever since the day she destroyed one of Menna's uniforms, she had bought emergency dresses for every situation, but on this occasion she gave her the dress because the maid's uniform had become sweaty after the intimate encounter the two had had.

"Do you like it?" Deniris asked sweetly as she turned around so Mart could see her fully.

Mart nodded with a subtle smile, and she seemed happy with the response. Then she approached Mart, gave her a light but intimate and warm kiss, said goodbye, and left the room.

...

When Deniris left the room, he asked the system what kind of demonic reward he had received and soon received a notification from the system.

[Demonic Reward (Recent): Drop of Demon God's Blood]

"It's an excellent reward, unless things heat up at the borders; after I graduate, I'll use this drop of blood to make myself stronger and endure the last recollection of seclusion, which lasts for one year. For now, I will take advantage of my access to the restricted library, where I can read books and grimoires with advanced demonic formulas and diagrams," Mart concluded as he put on his uniform to attend classes at the Danteriar Academy.

...

The gloomy atmosphere and uncertainty caused by the war were overwhelming. Every piece of news, no matter how subtle, altered the mood of the demons in different parts of the Republic.

For Mart, it was a new experience to see students who were scared, angry, and worried. As the days passed, there were students whose faces showed signs of insomnia.

In the hallways, students of different ages were crying because what had once been a possibility was now a certainty: war had begun at the borders.

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