Derek stared at Yami, stunned.

Head Mistress. SS-class fighter. Take him as a disciple?

"Master, you're not joking with me, are you?" Derek finally managed to say. "She's the Head Mistress. One of the very few SS-class fighters in the entire kingdom. Why would someone like her bother with me? I'm just a cultivator."

Yami chuckled, smoke curling from his lips as he leaned back in his chair.

"I get why you're thinking that way," he said. "In this kingdom, mages hold the highest status. Most of them look down on cultivators." He tapped the ash off his cigarette.

"But she isn't like that," Yami continued. "She doesn't care whether you're a cultivator, an Auran, or a mage. She only cares about one thing — potential. Real, undeniable potential. That's the only standard she uses."

Derek frowned slightly, trying to picture the Head Mistress he had only heard rumors about. A woman known for overwhelming power and terrifying combat talent. Someone so high above everyone else that most students could only look up at her like a distant star.

"But…" Derek hesitated. "Even so, there are countless geniuses in the academy. Why would she pick me over them?"

Yami smiled faintly. "Do you know how many direct disciples she has taken so far?"

Derek shook his head.

"Two," Yami said. "In all these years, only two people have managed to catch her eye. One of them is now another SS-class fighter. The other one… you don't need to know about for now."

Derek's eyes widened. 'Two. Only two.'

"And you're saying I can become the third?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Yami replied. "I'm confident. If you go all out in the Half-Yearly Ranker's Test, if you show the true gap between you and the others… then I don't believe she'll be able to ignore you."

Silence settled in the room for a few seconds.

Derek lowered his eyes, sinking into thought. Yami didn't rush him.

'Head Mistress's disciple.'

If that really happened… his progress wouldn't just increase, it would skyrocket. With the demons already present, he had to get stronger — the faster the better.

After a long moment, Derek lifted his head again. "Alright," he said quietly. "I understand. I'll go all out in the test."

Yami nodded, a hint of relief passing through his eyes. "Good. That's all I wanted to hear."

Derek stood up and bowed slightly. "Then, I'll take my leave, Master."

"Go rest," Yami said. "The next two days won't be peaceful — but at least you won't face them alone."

Derek gave a small smile and turned toward the door, leaving the chamber.

The room fell silent. For a few breaths, Yami simply sat there, staring at the closed door, his expression unreadable. Then, without changing his posture, he spoke.

"Come out."

The air in the corner of the room rippled.

A figure appeared where there had been nothing just a moment ago.

It was a girl — or at least, her outline suggested so. She wore tight, dark clothes that hugged her form, and a cloak that hid most of her body. Her face was completely covered by a mask and hood, leaving only her eyes visible.

If Derek had been there, he would have frozen on the spot.

Those eyes.

They were cold yet clear, sharp yet strangely familiar.

"Reporting," the girl said softly. Her voice was calm and steady.

Yami turned his gaze toward her. "You heard everything."

"Yes."

He took another drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly.

"Your task is simple," Yami said. "Watch over him for the next few days. Don't reveal yourself unless it's absolutely necessary. If the Nelson family or anyone else tries something, act. But only when he truly needs help."

The girl nodded once. "Understood."

"Don't let him realize you're there unless you can't help it," Yami added. "He's already attracting too much attention. The last thing we need is him knowing just how many people are watching him."

"As you command," she replied.

"You can leave then."

In the next instant, her figure blurred.

Then vanished.

The room was empty again, as if no one else had been there at all.

Yami rubbed his temples and sighed. "You're walking on a blade's edge again," he muttered. "Let's see how far you can go."

_______

The next morning, Derek stood in the special training chamber again.

The same room where he would practice Lightning Pace under the instructor's guidance.

The moment Wilson signaled, he sprang into action, traps activated all around Derek.

Fire pillars shot up from the floor. Blades of wind slashed across the room. Arrows of ice rained down from the ceiling.

But Derek…

Moved through it like flowing water. His steps were light, almost lazy. His body bent, twisted, and spun at just the right angles. A fire pillar roared past his shoulder, missing him by a hair. Three wind blades cut across in front of him, but he had already ducked under them before they formed fully.

To an outsider, it looked like he was dancing.

To those who understood what they were seeing — it was terrifying.

Lightning Pace.

On the side, Wilson watched with his arms crossed, his brows drawn together.

Standing beside him were Paul, Billy, Mia, and Harold.

All of them were staring with their mouths slightly open.

"He's… even faster than last time," Paul said, swallowing hard.

"No, it's not just his speed," Mia whispered. "Look at his movements… he's not just dodging. He's predicting the traps before they go off."

"It's like he knows where they'll appear," Harold added slowly.

Wilson didn't say anything. But in his eyes, a hint of pride — and worry — flashed by.

The session continued.

Finally, Wilson raised a hand. "Enough. Stop." He pressed a button in the wall.

The traps shut down one after another.

Derek came to a slow halt in the center of the chamber, exhaled deeply, and straightened his back.

His clothes were slightly scorched and sliced in places, but not a single real wound marked his skin.

"How was that, sir?" Derek asked, wiping his sweat with the back of his hand.

Wilson stared at him for a moment, then let out a long sigh. "If this keeps up, I'll have to ask the Head Mistress to design the next training chamber. This one won't be enough for you soon."

Derek chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

The others exchanged complicated looks.

Admiration.

Jealousy.

Shock.

It was all mixed together.

_______

While Derek was improving at a frightening rate in the training chamber, another storm was brewing elsewhere.

In the Lion's Heart House.

Inside the House Master's office, Nicholas sat behind his desk, his face dark and twisted with anger.

His palm slammed against the table.

BANG!

"What the hell happened to Frederick Nelson?" he roared.

Several instructors stood in front of him with their heads bowed, not daring to make eye contact.

"His parents have been hounding me since last night!" Nicholas continued, his voice rising even further. "He didn't show up to his dorm, he isn't in his class, and no one has seen him since yesterday afternoon. And none of you know where he is?"

A heavy silence settled in the room.

One of the instructors finally gathered enough courage to speak. "House Master… we checked the dorms, the infirmary, and the training fields. There are no records of him leaving the academy through the main gate either. It's as if he just… vanished."

Nicholas clenched his jaw.

"Unacceptable," he snapped. "This is Frederick Nelson we're talking about. Not some random student."

He glared at each instructor in turn.

"He's an heir of one of the top legacy families. One of the three strongest students in the fourth-year elite class. If anything happens to him, the Nelson family won't let this go. They'll drag the academy into their mess without a second thought."

No one dared to respond.

Nicholas took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

"Fine," he said slowly. "You have until the end of class hours today. Check every corner of the academy again. Ask his classmates, his friends, his guards. I want to know where he is, who he was with, and what he was doing."

He pointed at the door.

"Now go."

The instructors bowed quickly and left the room one after another.

Nicholas leaned back in his chair, rubbing his forehead.

"This is bad…" he muttered.

Just then, a gentle knock sounded on the door.

"House Master Nicholas," a soft female voice spoke from outside. "May I come in?"

Nicholas straightened slightly. "Enter."

The door opened.

A girl around twelve or thirteen years old stepped inside.

She had long golden hair that fell down her back, and eyes as cold and clear as ice. Her face was expressionless, her posture straight, her presence sharp even though she didn't release any aura.

Cecilia Glaciblade.

She stopped a few steps away from the desk.

"You called for me," she said.

Nicholas studied her for a moment.

"Yes," he finally said. "Cecilia, you will be participating in the Half-Yearly Ranker's Test."

Her eyes didn't change, but there was a slight pause before she nodded.

"I understand."

"I don't need to tell you what this means," Nicholas continued. "Defeat every single first year and second year students. Leave no doubt about your standing. I want the other Houses to see the strength of Lion's Heart clearly."

"I will do as you say," Cecilia replied.

Nicholas waved a hand. "Good. You may leave."

Cecilia turned and walked out.

The moment she stepped into the hallway and the door closed behind her, she stopped.

She stared at the floor, her expression as calm as ever.

But in her mind, another thought surfaced.

'I wonder… if he'll be participating as well.'

Her fingers tightened slightly at her side before she resumed walking, her footsteps echoing softly down the hall.

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