[Timeline: Day 4 Post-Invasion]

[Location: The Dwarven Kingdom – King Durin's War Room]

The holographic map hovering above the obsidian table was bathed in red light.

"Fuck! What is going on in the world!"

"This is worse than a manhunt," King Durin grumbled, slamming his fist onto the table. "It's a downright invasion."

The Dwarven King looked tired. He hadn't slept since the portal opened in his forge.

Around the table stood the remnants of Zero's faction: Prince Hephaestus, Alfred, the Valkyries, and the students of Class F.

Durin pointed to the map. Massive red arrows were sweeping out from the Central Empire, pushing into the neutral territories.

"The Emperor is using Zero's attack as a Casus Belli," Durin explained.

"He claims the Academy was a breeding ground for non-human terrorism. He has mobilised ancient Titan Legions, similar to the ones we're building here."

"He intends to occupy the Beast Lands and the Silver Woods under the guise of 'security'."

"He wants total control," Hephaestus spat, wiping grease from his hands.

"He wants to unite the continent before the Demon Lord fully emerges."

"If my guess is correct, thinking about the cultists' attack frequency in recent years and the last abyss gate riot"

"Another God and Demon war might be on the verge of happening!"

"The roles of the very world are about to be reset!"

"The battle for the ultimate throne is about to begin once more!"

The room fell silent. The weight of the situation was crushing. They were fugitives in a world that was rapidly preparing for total war.

"What about Lukas?" Alaric asked, his voice rough.

Alaric stood in the corner. He wasn't wearing his scorched Academy uniform anymore.

Instead, he wore a set of rough Dwarven plate armour, hastily fitted to his massive frame.

Hephaestus sighed. He gestured to the medical bed in the corner where Lukas sat.

Lukas was awake, but he was staring at his lap. His hands were encased in complex, rune-etched metal gauntlets that locked his fingers in place.

"I did what I could," Hephaestus said grimly. "I knit his bones back together. I even reattached the tendons. But..."

Hephaestus shook his head.

"The nerves are fried. Nero's solar mana burned the mana circuits in his hands. As he is now, he will never cast a fireball again. His hands are just... dead meat."

Lukas didn't react. He just kept staring at the metal claws encasing his ruined hands.

"There is one way," Hephaestus added.

"The World Tree in the Elven Kingdom. Its sap can regenerate mana circuits. But that is deep inside Elven territory."

"Then we'll go to the Elves," Alaric said instantly.

"It's not that simple," Lyra interrupted. She stepped forward, her face hidden behind her mask.

"The Silver Woods have closed their borders. My people are isolationists, especially so with the recent slave trading years ago, and the current Empire marching, they will shoot anyone who approaches the barrier."

Lyra looked at the map.

"I have to go back," Lyra said.

"I owe the current Queen a lot; also, without me, the Elven Guard will fracture. I need to rally the clans and prepare the forest for war."

"And I must go North," Leona rumbled. The Beast Queen crossed her arms.

"The Beast Federation is a mess of tribes. If the Empire comes with gold and threats, half the chieftains will sell out. I need to go back and remind them who the Boss is."

Alfred adjusted his glasses. "Divide and conquer," he mused.

"Or rather, divide and prepare."

He placed three markers on the map.

North: The Beast Lands (Leona).

West: The Silver Woods (Lyra).

South: The Dwarven Kingdom (Hephaestus/Durin).

"Then let's build three armies," Alfred strategised.

"While the Professor Mozart fights his battle in the dark, we'll build the resistance in the light. When he returns... We'll give him a surprise."

Yes, although by now he and the others had learnt the real identity OF Damien and the others, and how his teachers were world-class terrorists who had changed the world

In times like these, he still preferred to refer to Damien as Mozart

"If you really need it, I can help", Lyra offered, looking at Elena and Alaric.

"I can smuggle you into the Silver Woods. It will be dangerous, but—"

"No."

Alaric stepped forward.

The room turned to him.

"No escorts," Alaric said.

"Alaric," Lyra warned.

"You are currently fugitives. The Empire suspects you have a relationship with Zero and Nero's death, there's already a bounty on your heads. You can't survive alone."

"We survived Nero because the Professor stepped in," Alaric growled.

"We survived the arena because the Professor threw us through a portal. We are alive because he sacrificed himself."

Alaric walked over to the table, picking up a marker.

He drew a line through the jagged, black section of the map separating the Dwarven Mountains from the Elven Forest.

The Monster Wastes.

"We'll take the long way," Alaric said.

"That's suicide," Hephaestus said, eyes widening.

"That's a neutral zone filled with High-Rank monsters. It's a graveyard."

"Good," Alaric said. He looked at Lukas, who finally looked up. He looked at Elena, who was clutching her broken arm but nodding slowly.

"We need somewhere like this," Alaric said. "We are currently too weak. If we take the safe path, we'll arrive at the Elves as refugees, as beggars to say the least."

Alaric slammed his hand onto the map.

"We need to arrive as warriors. We're going to walk through hell. And if we die... then we weren't strong enough to help the Professor anyway."

Elena stood up. She walked over to the map. Her eyes, usually bright, were dull and hard.

"I agree," Elena whispered.

"My Mother, the Queen, I want her to see just how far I've grown."

Lukas stood up. He raised his metal-encased hands.

"I can't cast magic anymore," Lukas rasped. "But I can still walk. I'm going."

The room was silent.

King Durin looked at the three teenagers. He saw the fire in their eyes.

It wasn't the hopeful fire of students; it was the cold, desperate fire of soldiers who had lost everything.

"Aye," Durin nodded respectfully. "You have the eyes of the Young Master."

Hephaestus walked over to a chest in the corner.

"If you're going into the Wastes," Hephaestus said, kicking the chest open. "You're not going dressed like that."

Inside lay weapons, weapons primed for war.

"I can't fix your hands yet, boy," Hephaestus told Lukas. "But I can give you boots that explode."

….......

[Time: One Hour Later]

[Location: The Secret Exit – Under the Mountain]

The group stood at the massive stone blast doors that led to the surface.

The wind howling from the outside was cold.

Alfred stood by the lever.

"This is it," Alfred said.

Leona hugged Alaric. It was a bone-crushing hug.

"Don't die, Muscle Head," Leona growled.

"When I see you again, I expect you to be able to tank a Titan."

"Count on it, teach," Alaric grinned, though it didn't reach his eyes.

Lyra bowed to Elena. "Princess. When you reach the border, look for the White Oak. I will leave a sign."

"Thank you, Lyra," Elena said.

Alfred looked at them one last time.

"I will remain in the shadows," Alfred said. "I will coordinate the logistics with the Black Thread. If you need anything... do not hesitate to use a contact gem and communicate."

Alaric hefted The Anvil onto his shoulder. The mythril blade gleamed in the twilight.

"Let's go," Alaric said to his team.

They walked out into the snow without looking back.

They were Class F no longer.

….............…..

[Location: The Abyss – Layer 1]

SQUELCH.

A boot stomped onto the chest of a dead Abyss Stalker.

Damien grunted as he pulled the Pantheon Sword free from the monster's skull. The grey crystal blade was stained with black monster blood.

He breathed heavily. The air was still poison, but he was getting used to the taste.

"Target down," Damien wheezed.

"Three more on the ridge," Isabelle called out, her voice echoing in the silent grey wasteland.

Damien wiped the sweat from his forehead. He looked up at the Black Sun hanging in the void.

He didn't know about the war starting on the surface. He didn't know his students were marching into hell to save him.

He just knew he had to keep moving down.

"Layer 9 is a long walk," Damien muttered, resting the heavy sword on his shoulder, mirroring the stance Alaric had taken thousands of miles away.

Unknowingly, in his own way, no longer was he the minor villain Damien Voss, but rather he was slowly becoming the protagonist of his own story

He looked at Isabelle.

"Ready for the next round?"

Isabelle spun her daggers, her demonic eyes glowing in the dark.

"Always, Master."

Damien grinned beneath his cracked mask.

"Then let's go hunting."

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