Everyone was safe. Though many were injured, no one had lost their lives.

Now they were resting outside the airship, waiting for help to come.

After Adelia and the others came back, she ran toward her friends and healed them. Because they were too injured and wounded, she could not cure them completely. But they were now out of danger, in deep slumber.

She brought them under the shade of a tree.

One of the staff members checked the communication devices again, and fortunately, they were working. So they contacted the Academy immediately.

If there was anything they lost… then it was one single student. Still, it could not be said that he was dead. But he was lost somewhere.

Adelia was resting now, sitting beside Aria. Her back leaned against the tree.

"Where did he go?" Adelia asked calmly, to her friend Aria. Who was the only one among them to regain consciousness.

"I… I don't know. We were barely conscious… I thought—I thought I would die today. But suddenly he stopped. And looked in your direction. Then vanished in a streak of purple lightning." Her voice was low and trembling.

"He was strong… maybe at fifth stage. Did you not see him while coming here? I was sure he went in your direction."

Aria's blue eyes watched Adelia. Her eyes were a little dull, losing her usual cheerfulness.

"I… we didn't see him. Maybe… he abandoned this mission." Adelia rubbed her forehead tiredly.

"Sigh… that Amon boy… did he really vanish with the enemy?" she asked in a hoarse voice.

She had heard from her friend, after regaining consciousness, about what happened with them, how they fought Lynira and how Amon went inside an unknown portal.

For now, they couldn't do anything. All they could do was wait.

"I need to consult this with Headmistress… If there is anyone who could find him… then only she can."

Adelia's expression turned thoughtful. As long as Isabel could come here, the chances of finding Amon increased many folds.

"Well, that's the only hope we've got," Aria muttered, her eyelids heavy, wanting to go back to sleep again.

Adelia noticed it. She smiled gently, pushing her worry aside for now… or trying to.

"You should rest for now. The help will come soon."

Aria just nodded and closed her eyes. Her breathing was calm and steady.

Adelia threw her head back against the tree. Her yellow eyes looked up at the clear blue sky.

Her lips trembled lightly. The reason was obvious Amon. The boy who somehow… had gotten close to her. She didn't think she would be this worried for him.

"Amon… wherever you are… please be safe. We will find you for sure."

Her eyes were filled with resolve.

---

A huge airship far larger than the one resting in Greenveil Forest, descended from the sky. Its massive metal wings tilted as stabilizers hummed, releasing waves of mana across the clearing. Students lifted their heads, relief washing over their tired faces.

With a deep metallic thrum, the airship landed.

The ramp lowered.

From it stepped several professors and medical staff, all wearing the academy's crest. At the center of the group walked Vice Headmaster Arthur Thorne.

A tall man in his late forties, black hair streaked with gray at the temples. His long coat fluttered behind him as he walked, sharp eyes sweeping across the destruction with a silent, simmering intensity.

He didn't waste time with questions.

"Begin evacuation," he commanded calmly.

The staff moved quickly, assisting injured students and carrying unconscious ones inside. Healing light glowed faintly from the medical team as they worked.

Adelia stood up the moment she saw him.

"Vice Headmaster," she called out.

Arthur stopped in front of her. "Professor Evangeline. Report."

Adelia inhaled slowly, forcing herself to stay composed despite the exhaustion weighing her down. She began explaining everything– the ambush, the hooded figures, Alaric, Lynira, the masked man, the battles, the portal.

Every detail.

Arthur listened silently, his expression giving nothing away. When she finished, he rested his hand against his chin thoughtfully.

"So," he muttered. "A student was taken… or say somehow went through an unidentified spatial gate."

Adelia nodded stiffly. "Yes. Amon Vale. First-year. Class A."

"And you confirmed," Arthur continued, "that both the masked assailant and Amon vanished, and then the portal closed?"

"Correct."

Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"Take me to the spot."

Adelia didn't hesitate. "Follow me."

They moved quickly through the forest.

Eventually, they reached the shattered clearing.

The place where Amon had disappeared.

Mana residue still hung faintly in the air like violet dust.

Arthur stepped forward, kneeling as he touched the broken earth with two fingers. He closed his eyes, feeling the lingering spatial distortion.

"…This isn't ordinary teleportation," he finally said.

Adelia tensed. "You can tell?"

Arthur stood up. His face was grave.

"The portal was created by a high-level artifact. I can sense that there was disturbance in space here. The portal surely opened. But I can't tell clearly where it leads to."

Adelia's heart skipped. "Meaning… there is no way to track him?"

Arthur turned toward her, his eyes sharp.

"There is… but I cannot do that… maybe Headmistress Isabel might be able to do it… but—"

She inhaled sharply. "But?"

Adelia's chest tightened. "Is there a problem? That we cannot track him or something?"

Arthur lifted a worn compass-like artifact, its crystal core shining faintly.

"But it's not easy… even Headmistress might not be able to do it… then the only option we will have is… Empress Celestia… the one who is best at space magic in this whole continent."

He looked back at the swirling traces of mana.

"Hm… this signature… feels foreign. Ancient. But it seems I have felt them before."

His words hung heavily in the cold air.

Adelia swallowed.

Her voice dropped, barely above a whisper.

"But we will find him… right? Even if we need to ask Her Majesty."

Arthur rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder—rare, coming from him.

"As long as he's alive, yes. And something tells me that boy won't die easily… I have never talked with him or met him personally… but I have seen him with Headmistress. I believe he will survive. Just like how he survived in the dungeon practice and Mistvale Town."

Adelia exhaled shakily.

Arthur pocketed the artifact. "We return to the airship. We will go back to the Academy, inform everything to Headmistress, then follow her orders."

They turned back toward the clearing, the forest eerily quiet around them.

But the moment Adelia took a step, she paused.

Her hand pressed lightly against her own chest—right over her heart.

Amon… wherever you are… just survive a little longer.

----

Meanwhile far away from Greenveil Forest.

A large, darkened hall stretched into the distance, supported by massive stone pillars. Lanterns hung from the pillars, their dim light barely pushing back the shadows.

At the far end stood a throne made of black thorns.

A man sat upon it—his features completely hidden beneath a dark robe that covered him from head to toe. Nothing of his face or body could be seen.

The heavy doors of the hall slammed open with a deep thud.

A man stepped inside, wearing a cloak. His face had a few bruises, but otherwise he seemed uninjured. His curly red hair stuck to his forehead, and his expression was terrible—twisted with anger, pain, and grief.

The source of that grief lay in his arms.

He was carrying a woman's lifeless body in a gentle, princess-like hold. Her gray hair hung loose, stained with streaks of blood. Her skull was split open, a deep wound cutting into her brain.

Blood dripped from her form, leaving a long trail on the cold floor as he walked.

This man was Alaric—around his late twenties.

His brown eyes were locked on the figure seated upon the throne, the master of this place… and the one he served.

Alaric stopped several meters away, unable to bring himself closer.

Then his knees buckled.

He sank to the floor and laid Lynira's body gently on the cold stone.

His voice trembled.

"M–My Lord… they killed her… they killed my beloved…"

Alaric bowed his head deeply, his palms pressed to the cold floor.

His voice cracked as he pleaded:

"Please… My Lord… please revive her. I beg you. I will give anything… anything you want. Just bring her back to me… please…"

His shoulders shook. Every word was soaked in pain and sorrow.

For a long moment, the robed man on the throne said nothing.

Then.

A slow exhale.

Deep. Heavy. Cold.

It echoed through the hall like a whisper from death itself.

Alaric's spine stiffened. Fear crawled across his skin.

The man finally spoke, his voice chilling enough to freeze the air.

"I cannot revive her as a human."

Alaric's heart dropped.

"But…" the man continued, "I can bring her back as something else."

Alaric slowly raised his head, eyes trembling.

"W–What… what do you mean?"

"A ghoul," the robed figure said. "A being neither alive nor dead. An undead. Yet different. She will have her memories. Her personality. Everything that makes her Lynira."

Alaric's breath trembled in his throat.

"She will serve me. As my servant. As an undead who's soul will be tied to me." the man added. "But I will allow you to keep her by your side."

Alaric's eyes filled with desperate hope.

He nodded rapidly, almost frantically.

"I don't care… I don't care what she becomes. I just… I just want her back…"

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