Chapter 93

Kana and Suri had only just returned to their seats when Elle York raised her voice again, her tone crisp enough to silence the murmurs of the crowd.

“It does not end with them. There are others who faced the enemies with courage. Though none prevailed until the royal knights arrived, there were exceptions—copper and gold class first-years who not only stood their ground, but outsmarted and defeated their enemies.”

She read the names, “Andel Kergastel. Leo Stark. Adam. Roy. Tobi. Suri. Boris. Rin. Kana. Yuri.”

Kana stiffened. Rin, sitting at her side, smirked before hooking her arm around Kana’s sleeve and dragging her to her feet. Suri followed as though it were the most natural thing in the world, already basking in the attention.

The applause was heavy, the kind that pressed on Kana’s ears. Principal Light met them with a smile too smooth to be entirely real, handing out silver badges one by one. The badge gleamed—a phoenix, wings half-spread, as though waiting for the moment it could rise higher. Symbolism layered in metal.

Kana turned the badge over in her hand. Silver. Second-highest honor in the academy. A reminder of what they’d done…and how close they’d come to failure. She bowed her head as the applause swelled, but when she glanced sideways, Suri offered an exaggerated salute, lips tugged in a grin. Rin jabbed her with an elbow. The crowd chuckled.

Elle’s voice rang again, smooth as polished stone. “Finally, those who stood with their professors, who defended the line… you too are not forgotten.”

Names filled the hall, nearly thirty this time. Students shuffled onto the stage, nerves showing in their stiff postures, yet their eyes shone as they received bronze badges—third-highest honor, but no less hard-earned.

The clapping faded, replaced by another sound. A collective intake of breath as the grand doors creaked open.

The courtyard beyond had been transformed. Long tables waited beneath banners of the academy crest, each one laden with dishes kept hot by enchantments that shimmered. Steam rose in twisting trails, carrying the scents of roasted meats, honey-glazed breads, and spiced soups. Someone had thought to include pies—half a dozen kinds—and candied fruits glistening like jewels.

The announcement followed, simple but welcome: classes were suspended for the rest of the day.

Suri bolted before anyone else could stand. “Food!” she shouted, weaving through the crowd. “Move!”

By the time Kana and Rin caught up, she’d already claimed a plate and stacked it higher than was reasonable. Stew dripped from one corner, slices of duck glistened on the other, and a precarious tower of bread rolls teetered in the middle.

“You have to try this stew,” Suri said around a mouthful. “Oh, and the duck. And this—whatever this is—” She shoved a flaky pastry into her mouth, then spoke through the crumbs. “—best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

Kana folded her arms, eyebrow twitching. “You’re going to choke.”

“That’s what soup’s for.” Suri held up a second bowl, sloshing dangerously close to spilling, as if that proved her point.

Rin pressed two fingers to her forehead. “Do you ever stop to think before—”

“Nope,” Suri said, already reaching for another slice of pie.

The courtyard buzzed with laughter and chatter. Students compared badges, voices bright with pride. Stories of the ambush spread—embellished already, turned from terror into legend. Professors mingled more freely than usual, some clapping shoulders, others merely watching with quiet approval.

Kana let the moment wash over her. The danger, the blood, the shadow of death—it all seemed distant now. For a heartbeat, maybe two, she allowed herself to feel…safe. Her red eyes lingered on Suri, cheeks stuffed like a squirrel as she declared her sixth plate “the perfect balance.”

“You’re impossible..” Kana muttered.

Suri beamed, crumbs dusting her smile.

..

Artin remembered the moment clearly—too clearly. The forest had quieted as the girl arrived, dragging with her the replica of their enemy.

It was supposed to be just a copy. Replicate skills usually froze a person in whatever condition they’d been captured in. Yet this one—this broken, bleeding thing that bore Smiling Balt’s grinning face—seemed far too real. Its wounds were deep, ugly, and fresh.

Which meant the original Balt had taken those serious wounds.

And he had been brought…by a first-year. A copper class student.

Artin’s first reaction was disbelief. It didn’t add up. Smiling Balt was a terror, a predator among men. For a student like her—barely past the academy gates—to beat him, she would have needed help. Lots of it. That was the only explanation.

But then she came closer.

And suddenly it wasn’t the replica that set his nerves on edge.

Something about her…shifted. Not in her expression—she wore a quiet, serious look. It was subtler, a wrongness in the atmosphere itself, like the room had tilted slightly when she entered.

Artin’s chest tightened. He couldn’t place it. So he did the only thing he trusted in such moments—he invoked [Transform].

His senses warped, sharpening with the instincts of beasts. His pupils stretched, ears twitched at faint echoes, every breath carried scents of fear, blood and sweat. Instinct took over where reason failed.

And the moment he looked at her, instinct screamed.

Danger.

No—more than that. It was like staring into the eyes of death itself, coiled and waiting. Her bloodlust wasn’t active, wasn’t directed. But it was there, thick and suffocating, resting just beneath her skin like a monster barely leashed.

And then he noticed it. Above her head, faint, but undeniable to his heightened senses—a shadow, something black and weighty hovering, watching. Not smoke. Not aura. Something else. Something that had no business being there. Something out of this world.

His heart lurched. Panic hammered at his ribs. He cut off the skill immediately, senses snapping back to dull human limits.

For a moment he stood, shaking, breaths ragged.

When his vision cleared, she looked normal again. Just a girl with long black hair, red eyes, and a serious expression. Calm. Even ordinary, in her way.

But Artin knew better. That glimpse had been enough. Whatever she was—whoever she was—Kana wasn’t normal.

And neither was what followed her.

….

“Are you certain this is your wish?” King J’s voice echoed through the high-vaulted chamber, cold and deliberate. It was less a question than a final chance to reconsider.

Artin’s throat tightened. His chest rose and fell once, before he answered. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The word hung in the air like a blade suspended on the verge of falling.

There had been three knights who moved fast enough to save the students. Three who had altered the course of the kingdom in that fleeting instant. For that, each was granted a wish—an extraordinary gift, one not asked lightly. The first knight had begged freedom from his debts, a request the King granted with a flick of his hand. The second had kept his wish in reserve, wisely waiting for the right moment to use it.

But Artin’s request… this was different. Dangerous. Foolish, perhaps.

And yet, as he stood beneath the weight of the throne’s judgment, Artin’s mind replayed the memory again and again—the moment he saw her. That girl. Those red eyes, unblinking, calm even as chaos burned around her. He didn't witness their battle himself but he could imagine, the battle was a one sided beating. And beneath it, a presence. Not like a soldier. Not like a student. Something older, darker, waiting like a storm behind the horizon.

His beastly instincts had screamed. Honed by decades of battle, had whispered one thing: She is not ordinary. And yet… she is necessary.

He had lain awake for nights after, his body taut with unease. The kingdom was shifting, dangers multiplying. The nobles grew restless, enemies gathered in shadows, and the old threats that had slept for centuries now stirred once more. Artin knew—he felt it in his bones—that their armies, their knights, even their King would not be enough to stand against what was coming.

And so, when the King asked for his wish, Artin spoke before reason could stop him. Make her one of us.

King J sat forward slightly, his gaze piercing through him. “We will investigate her origin first,” he declared, each word weighted with finality. “If what you say is true, if she is more than a child with uncanny skill, then she will stand where none so young has ever stood.”

The courtiers gasped, whispers rising like a tide. The youngest Royal Knight in history. A dangerous precedent.

“She will be tested,” King J continued, his voice a measured blade. “No sentiment will raise her. No instinct alone. If she fails, then so be it. But if she passes—” His eyes narrowed, and for a moment even the air seemed to hold its breath. “—then she will rise.”

Artin bowed, but his fists clenched behind his back until his knuckles ached. He knew the risks. He knew he might be planting the seed of something the kingdom could neither control nor contain.

And still, he had no regrets. For in his heart, one truth burned brighter than fear: If she is not with us… then one day, she will stand against us.