At nearly seven in the evening, another knock sounded at Kairos' door—firmer this time, impatient enough to rattle the thin wood.
When he opened it, Samantha stood in the corridor with her arms folded against the evening chill, loose strands of hair shifting across her face.
"Where's Ronan?" she asked immediately, peering past him into the room as if expecting to see him inside.
Kairos stepped aside out of habit before realising there was no one behind him to reveal. "Master Alden took him and Orin somewhere." He shrugged, still mildly confused himself. "Didn't say where. Just said it was important."
Samantha studied him for a second, her brows faintly pulling together. Then she gave a small nod, more to herself than to him.
"If he's with Master Alden, then it's probably serious." Her expression softened. "Are you ready?"
Kairos let out a breath and reached for his coat hanging near the bedpost. The fabric felt cool beneath his fingers. "Yeah. Let's go."
They walked through the evening streets beneath lantern-lit paths, the academy grounds quieter than usual. A crisp breeze drifted through the stone walkways, carrying traces of roasted spices and woodsmoke from nearby kitchens. The Ember Hearth Inn glowed warmly ahead of them, its windows spilling amber light into the growing dusk.
Inside, warmth wrapped around them immediately.
Lanterns hung from heavy wooden beams overhead, their golden light reflecting across polished tables and glass cups. The dining hall buzzed with conversation—students laughing, chairs scraping, utensils clinking against plates. A long table stretched through the centre of the room, crowded with roasted meats glazed in herbs, baskets of fresh bread, bowls of fruit, steaming soups, and dishes rich enough to perfume the air with butter, spice, and smoke.
The atmosphere felt alive.
For once, nobody looked tense.
The moment Kairos and Samantha stepped inside, Elenor noticed them. She rose so quickly her chair nearly tipped backwards.
"Where's Ronan?" she asked, eyes immediately searching behind them.
Samantha hesitated.
Only for a heartbeat.
"He's not coming tonight."
The change in Elenor's expression happened quietly. Her shoulders lowered a fraction, and the brightness that had lifted her face dimmed.
"Oh…"
Kairos quickly added, "Master Alden took him and Orin somewhere important."
Elenor nodded slowly, though disappointment lingered in her eyes. "I see."
A few minutes later, the doors opened again.
Sophia entered with three others walking beside her—Tavin, Andrea, and Eldrin. Their arrival stirred fresh conversation across the room.
Sophia smiled as she approached. "This is Tavin, Andrea, and Eldrin. They're part of the top ten." She gestured lightly. "And you already know Samantha and Kairos."
Introductions spread naturally from there.
Roderick stood near the head of the table, raising a cup while speaking over the noise. "Serena and Elias—meet Samantha, Sophia, Dorian, and Lyra."
Dorian immediately leaned into the social momentum, grinning as he motioned toward two others nearby. "And these are Kellan and Selyra."
Finally, Lyra nodded toward the last pair standing slightly apart from the crowd.
"This is Egan and Elenor."
Soon, names became conversations.
Conversations became laughter.
The hall filled with overlapping voices and easy energy. Someone joked about the tournament rankings. Another exaggerated their near defeat during the competition, earning loud protests from those involved. Glasses clinked together. Plates shifted across the table. Warm food disappeared piece by piece beneath eager hands.
For a while, they allowed themselves to believe life could remain this simple.
They spoke of the Dimensional Rift with equal parts excitement and bravado. Some imagined treasure. Others imagined glory. A few quietly worried about survival but masked it behind humour.
The future still felt distant enough to romanticise.
One by one, the night began to thin.
Students stretched, yawned, and drifted toward the dormitories in small groups. Chairs emptied. Lantern flames burned lower.
Anticipation followed them into the night.
Far above the darkened roads, a flying boat sliced through the sky.
Its enchanted hull vibrated with a low hum as Aether stones burned within its core. Wind rushed violently past the sides, snapping against cloaks and hair. The vessel moved with relentless speed, cutting through layers of cold night air.
Ronan sat near the edge beside Orin, both of them unusually quiet.
Mr. Alden stood at the controls ahead, his posture rigid.
He had barely spoken since they left.
The silence itself felt wrong.
Orin leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice beneath the whistle of the wind.
"Why is he so serious?"
Ronan kept his eyes on their mentor's back.
"I don't know." His fingers tightened against the wooden edge of the boat. "But I've got a bad feeling."
The words lingered between them.
Neither of them liked how heavy the air felt.
After several moments, Ronan glanced downward.
Clouds drifted beneath them like pale rivers in the darkness.
He swallowed.
"We're sorry, Mr. Alden."
The words left him before he could stop them.
Mr. Alden didn't turn.
Ronan forced himself to continue.
"We failed to make the top ten."
Orin lowered his head as well. "We should've done better."
For a moment, only the hum of the flying boat answered.
Then Mr. Alden exhaled.
He stepped away from the controls briefly and turned toward them. His face remained calm, though something distant sat behind his eyes.
He rested a hand on each of their shoulders.
"You misunderstand me."
His voice carried no anger.
Only steadiness.
"This has nothing to do with the competition."
Ronan looked up.
Mr. Alden's gaze shifted toward the horizon.
"A few days ago, reports came from a village near Eldergrove. Children disappeared." His jaw tightened slightly. "A guild investigator began searching, but additional support was requested."
He looked directly at them.
"This is why you're here."
The wind whipped through the silence.
"You've trained enough inside arenas. Enough controlled battles." His tone hardened just enough to carry weight. "Reality doesn't wait for fairness. Tonight, you learn what danger truly looks like."
Without warning, he accelerated.
The flying boat surged forward.
Wind slammed into Ronan's chest hard enough to steal his breath. His cloak snapped violently behind him as the night blurred into streaks of darkness and silver cloud.
No one spoke after that.
The unease only deepened.
An hour later, the village came into view.
Even before landing, Ronan smelled it.
Burning wood.
Ash.
Something darker beneath it.
Smoke twisted upward through the night sky, lit by orange firelight. Flames crawled across rooftops like living things devouring dry timber. The distant sound of screaming carried through the wind.
The boat descended.
The moment it touched the ground, they jumped off.
Heat struck Ronan immediately.
The village square was in chaos.
Homes burned openly. Sparks drifted through the air like fireflies born from destruction. Villagers ran through smoke-choked streets carrying children, weapons, or bodies. Steel rang against steel somewhere nearby.
Then Ronan saw them.
Three black-cloaked figures stood amid the destruction like shadows given form.
One was fighting.
A boy.
Young—barely older than Ronan.
Blood covered him.
His movements looked wrong.
Jerking.
Violent.
His red eyes burned unnaturally bright beneath sweat-soaked hair. His limbs twitched with every motion, as though invisible strings pulled him forward against his will.
His mouth hung open in a silent scream.
He attacked without hesitation.
Without awareness.
Agony twisted across his face even as he moved.
Ronan felt cold despite the fire surrounding him.
Mr. Alden's expression darkened instantly.
"Ronan. Orin. Help the villagers."
His gaze sharpened toward the cloaked figures.
"I'll handle them."
They moved immediately.
Ronan sprinted into the smoke-filled streets.
The first thing he noticed wasn't the fire.
It was the bodies.
A woman lay near a collapsed cart, eyes still open toward the sky. A man clutched a farming tool so tightly his fingers remained locked around it even in death. Blood soaked into the dirt pathways, turning the ground into dark mud beneath trampling feet.
The smell hit next.
Copper.
Burnt flesh.
Rotting smoke.
His stomach clenched.
He had seen death before.
Training accidents.
Monsters.
Battles.
But this—
This was different.
This was slaughter.
There was no order to it. No battlefield logic. No preparation.
Just terror.
Just people who had been living ordinary lives moments before.
A scream tore through the air.
Ronan turned.
A hooded attacker raised a blade toward an elderly woman cornered against a wall.
Flames erupted instantly from Ronan's palm.
The fire struck the attacker's chest.
The figure crashed backwards, rolling across the dirt as burning cloth spread over black robes.
The elderly woman collapsed to her knees, trembling violently.
Her lips moved soundlessly.
Ronan barely had time to breathe before another cry echoed nearby.
Orin tore through the battlefield like a storm.
His fists cracked against bone with brutal precision. One assailant crumpled beneath a strike to the jaw. Another folded under a kick that sent him skidding across blood-slick ground.
Villagers who had nearly given up began fighting again.
A farmer grabbed a spear from a fallen guard.
Someone dragged the wounded toward cover.
Hope flickered weakly beneath panic.
Minutes later, the battle shifted.
Mr. Alden moved through the square with terrifying efficiency.
The three cloaked figures fell one after another.
Restrained.
Defeated.
Ronan finally slowed, breathing hard.
Then he saw them smile.
Even bound, the captives grinned beneath their hoods.
Something twisted in Ronan's chest.
A maroon sigil ignited across their chests.
The symbols pulsed.
Their bodies convulsed.
Dark veins spread rapidly beneath their skin.
"No—"
Before anyone could move, black energy erupted outward.
Skin split.
Flesh withered.
Their bodies collapsed inward as if life itself had been ripped out.
The smell that followed was foul enough to turn Ronan's stomach.
Ash.
Decay.
Something rotten and unnatural.
The corpses crumbled into shrivelled husks.
Mr. Alden clicked his tongue.
"Damn it."
His expression hardened.
"They used a forbidden spell."
Ronan stared.
His hands trembled faintly.
"They would rather die than be captured. What kind of people did that?"
He forced himself to move.
The wounded needed help.
He dropped beside a man lying in the dirt, blood leaking steadily through torn clothing.
Ronan pressed a hand over the wound.
"Blazing Restoration."
Warm light spread beneath his palm.
Burning gold flowed into torn flesh, stitching ruptured skin together inch by inch. The man gasped sharply as colour slowly returned to his face.
Ronan moved again.
And again.
Each person.
Each wound.
A child burned along one arm. A woman with shattered ribs. A young man is missing part of his ear and shaking uncontrollably.
His Aether drained rapidly.
Sweat slid down his temples.
His breathing grew heavier.
The village mayor approached through the smoke, face pale beneath streaks of ash.
"Thank you…" His voice rasped painfully. "But we still need help."
He glanced toward the road leading into darkness.
"We sent men to Eldergrove for reinforcements."
His throat tightened.
"I don't think they made it."
Before Mr. Alden could answer, laughter drifted through the night.
Cold.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Ronan turned instantly.
Two hooded figures emerged from the shadows beyond the burning homes.
Something dragged behind them.
Bodies.
They hauled them carelessly through the dirt before throwing them forward.
The corpses landed at the mayor's feet with a wet, heavy sound.
"Looking for these?" one of them sneered.
The mayor staggered backwards.
Ronan's breath caught.
The men sent for help.
Their limbs bent unnaturally. Their faces were frozen in expressions so twisted with pain that Ronan struggled to look directly at them.
Blood spread slowly beneath their bodies.
Dark.
Thick.
Fresh.
His stomach lurched violently.
For a second, sound disappeared.
The fires.
The screams.
The world narrowed.
They had dragged them here like trophies.
Before the robed figures could react further, Mr. Alden moved.
One instant, he stood beside them.
The next, steel flashed.
A clean arc of silver cut through firelight.
One body collapsed instantly.
The severed head rolled across the dirt.
The second attacker staggered back, hands glowing with unstable dark energy.
Ronan recognised the gathering pulse immediately.
Self-detonation.
Mr. Alden struck before completion.
His sword drove through the man's chest.
The dark glow shattered apart like smoke torn by wind.
Silence followed.
Brief.
Heavy.
Ronan dropped beside the fallen messengers.
His hands shook as he pressed healing energy into ruined flesh.
"Come on…"
Golden warmth spread from his palms.
But the damage—
Too deep.
Broken ribs punctured lungs.
Internal bleeding.
Shattered cores.
He pushed more Aether through.
His vision blurred.
Nothing changed.
"I—"
His breathing hitched.
"I can't…"
His voice cracked beneath exhaustion.
"They need a healer."
He hated how helpless those words sounded.
Mr. Alden stepped beside him.
A firm hand settled on Ronan's shoulder.
"You did more than enough."
Ronan stared at the blood coating his fingers.
It felt warm.
Too warm.
Mr. Alden turned toward the mayor.
"Gather everyone together."
The mayor nodded immediately, shouting for survivors to move toward the centre.
Mr. Alden raised his hand.
Light spread outward.
A translucent dome formed around the villagers, shimmering faintly like glass beneath moonlight.
The barrier hummed softly.
Protective.
Temporary.
Mr. Alden looked toward Ronan and Orin.
"I'll go to Eldergrove myself."
His gaze lingered on them.
"Protect the villagers."
Then he vanished into the night.
The barrier shimmered quietly around them while distant flames continued to crackle beyond its edges.
For the first time since arriving, Ronan realised his hands would not stop trembling.
Not from exhaustion.
From what he had seen.
From the smell of burning homes.
From the sound of people screaming for family members who would never answer.
And from the understanding that this was not training.
This was what the world looked like when nobody arrived in time.