The sky above the Academy was a deep gray, as if the earth itself was holding its breath. Rumors had been circulating for weeks, but this time, they had been confirmed: the Mountain of Death was active. The mana crystals, of rare purity, were rising to the surface, and the magical flow in the region had become so dense that it was literally bringing magical beasts back to life… or driving them mad. The Mountain was a living hell. And thus, an invaluable treasure.
Every major faction on the continent already coveted this deposit. Every one… except Arthur Aurora's, strangely silent.
Daemon, however, had not hesitated.
He slowly climbed the stone steps leading to the main hall of the Scepter faction, his boots echoing through the cold corridors. Kara was waiting for him, arms crossed, her gaze hard. Beside her, Ramia—more discreet but just as attentive—watched the conversation with a keen eye.
"You're late," Kara said bluntly.
