"Have you read the newspaper?" the vice-headmaster asked the man sitting across from him.

The two older men—close friends for decades—were having breakfast inside the quiet office when the bald man suddenly raised the question.

The other man did not lift his eyes from the table, but the faint crease between his brows made it clear that he had heard every word.

After a brief pause, Edward—Headmaster of Ardentia—finally spoke, his tone calm but heavy. "The sudden surge in Death Sinks. It appears he was right."

David nodded slowly. "The Archon's appearance has always brought disaster with it. This time is no different. Something has changed." His fingers tightened around the edge of his plate. "And not for the better."

Across many regions, Death Sinks had begun appearing far more frequently than they ever had in the distant past. What was once considered a rare calamity was now becoming alarmingly common.

That alone was troubling. Human resources were not infinite. A warrior could not be everywhere at once. They were expected not only to fight but also to protect, and there was no possible way to do both without fail.

And when warriors failed, it was never them who paid the price first.

It was the innocent.

David released a long sigh. "Word has already spread. The Empire has made its move. Knight Commander Dawntress has been called back. The Capital is being fortified."

Edward frowned slightly. "And the academies?"

David scoffed, the sound sharp and bitter. "Do you really think they would concern themselves with the academies when they aren't even worried about their own people?"

There were more than three hundred major towns spread in every direction. As an Emperor, safeguarding the entire continent was his responsibility—not merely ensuring that the walls around his palace remained standing.

Yet still—

"The Emperor has handed over the security of all four regions to the Dukes," Edward said quietly.

David stared at him in disbelief. "You're telling me the Empire is pulling its hands away because they're incompetent?"

David was normally a careful man, someone who weighed every word before letting it leave his mouth. But Edward was the only person before whom he never bothered to filter himself.

Edward shook his head helplessly. "The threat is still in its early stages, and yet they've already begun to reveal their true colors. But I can't say I'm surprised." His lips curled faintly. "I expected nothing more from that sly fox who calls himself Gahalia's leader."

A brief silence settled over the room. The ticking of the clock grew louder, almost oppressive.

David pushed his plate away. He had lost his appetite entirely. "Are our students meant to become part of this mess?"

Edward looked up at him then. "Now you're letting emotion cloud your judgment, David. You're calling it a mess and blaming it solely on the Emperor's failures." His voice softened, but the weight behind it did not lessen. "The truth is, no one has control over when or where Death Sinks appear."

"I know that," David replied sharply. "But these students came here to prepare themselves for the future—not to be thrown into it before they're ready. If they already had the experience to face such dangers, they wouldn't have needed an academy in the first place."

Edward did not deny it. His silence alone made it clear that sooner or later, the Empire would command the academies to send their students to the front lines.

Edward rested his spoon on the table and leaned back. "I'm worried about the first-year students," he admitted. Then he paused, meeting David's gaze. "But aren't the third-years more or less prepared?"

David's brows drew together. "Are you serious? They're still children, Edward."

The headmaster exhaled through his nose. "Children who have faced fatal danger more than once. Recently, they were even pitted against a ranked devil."

David fell silent. No immediate rebuttal came to his lips.

Edward wiped his mouth before continuing. "That said, don't worry. The Capital itself won't be issuing orders to our students."

David hummed softly, more weary than curious. "Then who will?" It saddened him that he was asking *who* rather than *why*, but he no longer had the strength to argue the inevitability of it.

Edward reached into a drawer and pulled out a folded letter. "I received word from the Great Hall. They'll be arriving the day after tomorrow."

David stiffened. "For what purpose?"

"To recruit a few students," Edward replied. "They want to train them under their command and prepare them for a special unit—one meant to protect Ardentia itself."

David blinked, taken aback. "So they intend to turn our students into our own shield?"

Edward nodded. "That's precisely what sets them apart from those fools in the central ministry. They understand that academies are not just institutions—they're foundations. Places meant to forge warriors capable of carrying the future on their shoulders."

David nodded slowly. "They're right. Especially Ardentia. This place has produced so many heroes who—"

"Stop glazing and finish your food," Edward cut in dryly.

David groaned but picked up his spoon again.

After a moment, he paused. "You said the day after tomorrow, didn't you?"

Edward glanced at him. "Yes. Why?"

David chuckled and slid a letter across the table. "Then they may find one of their recruits waiting for them."

Edward frowned and picked it up, scanning the subject line.

*Request for Dungeon Trial.*

—William Delimore.

….

The carriage rolled steadily toward the academy gates as William stared out of the window, his expression drained.

Emma watched him for a moment before humming softly. "Tired from the journey?"

He shook his head. "No. Just eager for the trials." Then, after a pause, he added, "And missing Nana."

Emma's shoulders sagged. "Same. I still can't forget her face when we were leaving."

William hummed in agreement. "The first time I met her, I never thought she'd grow so attached to us."

"The feeling's mutual," Emma said quietly. "We got attached so quickly that, for a moment, I actually wanted to break the rules and bring her with us."

William let out a small chuckle. "I won't deny it. The thought crossed my mind too."

He shook his head before adding, "That reminds me—I haven't visited the children at the orphanage recently."

Emma giggled. "You only started doing that after your short good-boy phase, didn't you?"

For a few days, just to fool Emma, William had pretended to be charitable by visiting orphanages. The funny part was that Emma had seen through him from the start.

Still, guilt had followed him. To keep his promise, he'd continued visiting the orphanage even while living in the forest.

William leaned back against the seat. "Now I just hope the old man doesn't raise too many questions about my request."

Emma tilted her head. "The headmaster? Why would he question you?"

William gave her a wry smile. "You really think he'll smile and let me challenge a dungeon alone?"

Emma let out a slow sigh. "Right…" Her lips curved faintly. "That's going to be a headache."

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