She opened the door, and Avin leaned slightly to the side, expecting to finally see how the inside of this so-called academy looked.

"Welcome to—"

SPLASH.

A heavy wave of cold water slammed directly into her face. The sound echoed through the entrance like a bucket being emptied into eternity. Droplets sprayed outward, scattering in glittering arcs across the marble floor. The torrent divided at impact—most of it washing past Avin and Sylas, who stood safely behind her.

For a second, all three froze in silence.

Elizabeth stood there motionless, water dripping from the ends of her golden hair. The light that had once made her look divine now reflected off the sheen of wetness on her face.

The water streamed down in small rivers, gathering beneath her boots, sliding along the polished floor until it reached the edge of the steps. Her shoulders stiffened, her fists clenched, and the vein at the side of her temple pulsed—slowly at first, then violently.

Directly in front of her stood a young man holding an empty wooden bucket, his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide with instant regret.

He looked like a man who had just accidentally woken a god.

"Uh…" He swallowed hard, his smile trembling into existence. "Hey, Elizabeth… I thought you were—"

"IAN!"

The sound cracked the air like lightning. The man—Ian—flinched so hard he nearly dropped the bucket. His pupils shrank to dots, sweat forming instantly on his forehead.

"I thought you were the—"

SLAP.

Her palm struck his face so hard the sound bounced off the walls. Ian flew sideways, his body bending unnaturally midair before slamming against the wall with a dull thud. He hung there for a moment, twitching like a stunned insect, then slid down to the floor in a heap.

Avin's jaw fell open slightly. Sylas blinked.

Ian's legs kicked weakly. Then, as if his instincts suddenly remembered how to live, he sprang up and bolted down the left corridor, stumbling over his own feet as he went.

Elizabeth's expression did not change—just pure, simmering fury. Without a word, she turned sharply and sprinted after him, her boots hammering the marble floor in rhythmic echoes that faded down the hall.

And then… silence.

Only Avin and Sylas remained at the entrance, standing among the puddles of water and awkward echoes of chaos.

Avin blinked once. Then twice. Then sighed.

"Well," he muttered under his breath, "there goes all the respect I had for her."

Sylas just stared at the hall where the two had vanished. His face was a strange mixture—confused, shocked, maybe even impressed.

Before either of them could comment further, a cheerful voice came from directly ahead.

"Well, that was… dramatic."

Avin turned—and nearly jumped out of his skin.

A figure stood there, seemingly out of nowhere, smiling brightly with his eyes closed. He had blue hair that gleamed under the sunlight pouring in through the open door, and that same sunlight framed him like some kind of eccentric angel.

"Ah!" Avin yelped, stumbling a step back. "You scared me!"

The man bowed slightly, the motion smooth, almost theatrical. "I apologize for that," he said, voice warm and melodic. When he straightened up, his eyes opened—bright and friendly. His attire, however, was unlike any of the others Avin had seen. No uniform. No badge. Just a simple black coat over a pale shirt, unbuttoned at the neck.

That alone was enough to put Avin on edge.

The man's gaze flicked from Sylas to Avin, and his expression shifted to one of mild intrigue. His lips moved as if counting something. "Red hair… blue eyes…" he murmured. Then, with a faint, almost knowing smile: "You must be Sir Avin."

Avin blinked. "Uh… yes?" he answered, uncertain.

The stranger nodded, satisfied. "Excellent. I was waiting for your arrival. Your teammates have requested your presence."

"Teammates?" Avin repeated under his breath, glancing at Sylas, who looked just as puzzled.

"Follow me, please," the man continued smoothly, already turning toward the hall.

Avin hesitated for half a second, then shrugged and followed, his curiosity outweighing his caution.

Behind him, Sylas called out, "Hey—what about me?"

The man stopped mid-stride, turned slightly, and tilted his head. His bright smile didn't fade. "Ah, right." His eyes shifted toward the left corridor—the one Elizabeth and Ian had vanished down. "You must follow them."

Sylas frowned. "What?"

But the man had already turned back to Avin.

Avin met Sylas's gaze, raised an eyebrow, and shrugged as if to say, You heard him.

Sylas sighed and nodded. "Good luck not dying."

Avin smirked. "You too."

And then, just like that, they went their separate ways—Sylas down the chaos-filled corridor, Avin following the strange blue-haired guide deeper into the academy.

The air inside was cooler than outside, the scent of polished wood and faint incense lingering around them.

They walked in silence at first. The corridor stretched endlessly, its wooden walls carved with intricate patterns, portraits of old scholars and warriors framed in gold. Avin's eyes darted between them, the echoes of his boots reminding him of another hallway—one that had haunted him once before.

The mansion.That endless maze of hallways where he'd kept losing himself.

"Good memories," he muttered quietly, half-sarcastic, half-nostalgic.

A sudden thud snapped him back.

Theo—the man had finally introduced himself earlier—had stomped his boot in front of a large door, stopping abruptly.

"What the—" Avin said, narrowing his eyes as he came closer. "This wasn't here before."

Theo smiled, his expression unreadable, and reached for the handle. "The academy has many doors, Sir Avin," he said cryptically. "Some only appear when needed."

Avin took an instinctive step back, his hand hovering near his sword. He didn't trust this man yet. Not after the dream, the boy, and everything else.

But when Theo pushed the door open, all his suspicion evaporated.

The light that burst out nearly blinded him.

He raised an arm to shield his face, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted. When the blur cleared, his jaw dropped.

Before him stretched a hall so enormous, so dazzling, it could only belong to someone impossibly rich—or impossibly arrogant. Every surface glimmered. Golden ornaments lined the walls, jewels embedded into the pillars, the chandeliers overhead dripping with crystal light. The chairs were rimmed with diamonds; even the floor gleamed with inlaid marble that reflected the entire room upside down.

Avin just stood there, his mouth slightly open, eyes darting everywhere.

"Which rich bastard made this place…" he muttered under his breath. His stomach growled faintly. "Surely some of this is fake, right?"

He wiped at the corner of his mouth as he realized it had slightly watered, composing himself quickly when Theo glanced back at him.

"We're here," Theo said softly, stopping before a grand double door at the end of the hall.

The door itself was a masterpiece—etched with intricate runes and images of winged beings, bordered with silver vines and sapphires that shimmered faintly.

Theo grasped the handle.

"Brace yourself," he murmured, smiling faintly.

He turned the handle slowly, the metal clicking with an almost ceremonial precision. The door creaked open inch by inch.

Avin stepped forward cautiously, his nerves tingling.

As the light from inside spilled out, the first sound that reached his ears wasn't music or laughter—

—but a loud and unmistakable smack.

The noise cracked through the golden hall like a thunderclap.

Avin's eyes widened. His heart skipped. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword.

"...What in the hells now?" he whispered, peering inside as the door opened fully.

To be continued.

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