Lady Ishulane stared at the old man across the meeting hall, a faint crease forming between her brows. The candlelight trembled across the polished floor, reflected in her silver eyes as she searched his weathered face, trying to grasp at memories that slipped through her fingers like mist.
"I'm sorry," she said at last, her tone gentle yet uncertain. "I don't remember you clearly. My memory is still… fragmented because of the seal."
A soft chuckle escaped the old man.
Then his appearance shimmered.
The wrinkles melted away. Bent shoulders straightened. In the span of a breath, the frail elder transformed into a man in his twenties, sharp-featured and bright-eyed, with the kind of mischievous grin that looked permanently one step away from causing trouble.
"Perhaps this face will help," he said.
Lady Ishulane stared at him for several long seconds. Then her eyes widened slightly.
"Oh." A laugh slipped from her lips before she could stop it. "I remember now. You were one of those little brats who kept pulling pranks on us when we first arrived at Serenwyn Academy."
Across the hall, Alden nearly choked.
Alaric immediately covered his mouth, shoulders shaking violently as he tried not to laugh. Felix blinked between them in confusion.
"Hiss—don't laugh," Alaric whispered through clenched teeth. "We still want to live."
Alden pressed a fist against his mouth, barely holding himself together. "But... but she just called the Headmaster a brat."
The old man coughed awkwardly and returned to his elderly appearance, rubbing the back of his neck with visible embarrassment.
"When you say it like that, it sounds much worse than I remember," he muttered.
Lady Ishulane's lips curved faintly.
Arnold sighed, though warmth lingered in his eyes as he looked at her. "Back then, after I left the academy to travel, I heard you disappeared." His voice lowered. "They searched everywhere for you. Every kingdom. Every ruin is connected to spatial distortions. But every lead ended in nothing."
The atmosphere in the hall shifted.
The laughter faded quietly into stillness.
Lady Ishulane's smile slowly disappeared. For a moment, something distant passed through her gaze—an exhaustion buried so deep it felt ancient.
"That," she said softly, "is a very long story."
Her fingers brushed lightly against her arm, as though grounding herself.
"I'll tell you everything eventually. But right now... I need your help." She paused briefly before continuing. "My soul suffered severe damage. Recovery will take time. Until then, could you arrange a place for me to stay?"
Her posture remained composed, but Alden noticed the subtle tension beneath it. Even standing still seemed to cost her effort.
"In return," she continued, "I can serve as an assistant professor of alchemy at Serenwyn Academy. And if there are other matters I can help with, I'm willing to contribute however I can."
Arnold looked at her quietly for several seconds.
Then he nodded.
"It would be an honour to have you here," he said sincerely. "Serenwyn Academy would benefit greatly from your presence."
Two faculty members standing nearby exchanged uneasy glances.
One finally stepped forward cautiously. "Sir... are you certain? We still don't know her complete background."
Arnold's expression hardened instantly.
The warmth vanished from his face, replaced by the authority of someone who had commanded the academy for decades.
"I will take full responsibility if anything happens," he said flatly. "Prepare one of the guest houses immediately."
Neither instructor argued further.
The meeting soon ended.
As everyone filtered out of the hall, Arnold and Lady Ishulane walked together toward Mindward Tower. The fading sunlight painted long golden streaks across the academy pathways while students hurried between buildings in the distance.
The two spoke quietly as they walked.
Sometimes Arnold laughed softly in disbelief. Sometimes silence stretched between them, heavy with years neither knew how to untangle. More than once, Lady Ishulane stopped speaking entirely, her voice catching before she forced herself onward.
The setting sun dipped beneath the horizon by the time Alden reached Amara's office.
Inside, the atmosphere felt thick enough to suffocate.
Amara sat behind her desk with her arms crossed tightly, while Gideon leaned against the nearby wall, unusually silent. Papers and reports were scattered across the table between them.
"Where's Ronan?" Alden asked as he stepped inside.
"Still not here," Amara replied. "But before that, tell me exactly what happened inside the dimensional rift."
For the next thirty minutes, the room was filled with tense discussion.
Alden recounted every detail he could remember—the collapsing terrain, the unstable Aether surges, Lady Ishulane's condition, the strange distortions within the rift itself. Gideon occasionally interrupted with his own observations, while Amara listened with sharp, focused eyes, piecing together details faster than either of them could explain them.
By the end, even Alden felt mentally exhausted.
Then came a knock.
"Come in," Amara said immediately.
The door opened.
Ronan stepped inside.
The moment his gaze landed on Gideon, surprise flickered across his face. It lasted only an instant, but it was enough to soften the exhaustion lingering in his eyes.
"Sir," Ronan greeted, lowering his head respectfully. "It's been a while. What are you doing here?"
Gideon smiled faintly. "Still alive, thankfully. And I've returned as the new assistant instructor." His grin widened slightly. "Looks like I'll be teaching you swordsmanship again."
For the first time since entering the room, a small trace of ease appeared in Ronan's expression.
Amara, however, was entirely unmoved.
She continued lecturing him for several more minutes.
The more she spoke, the quieter the room became.
"You nearly got yourself killed because of Keen Eye," she snapped. "Do you have any idea how reckless that was? Your perception skill isn't invincible."
Ronan stood silently while she spoke, accepting every word without argument.
Finally, Amara exhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Go get some rest," she said. "And stop skipping classes."
Then her eyes shifted toward Alden and Gideon.
"And the two of you," she added coldly, "need to stop encouraging his nonsense."
Alden blinked. "What did we do?"
"I'll personally give him a better technique than Keen Eye and Void Overdrive," Amara continued, glaring at them both. "Maybe then he'll stop trying to kill himself every mission."
Alden and Gideon exchanged bewildered looks.
Those techniques had been chosen entirely by Ronan himself.
Neither of them had anything to do with it.
Ronan bowed slightly. "Good night."
He turned and walked toward the door.
Alden instinctively moved to follow, but Amara raised a hand without even looking at him.
"Don't pamper him," she said firmly. "You're part of the reason he's become so reckless."
Outside the office, Ronan closed the door quietly behind him.
The corridor was dimly lit by enchanted lanterns embedded along the stone walls. Their pale blue glow flickered gently across the floor.
Leaning casually against the wall nearby stood Kairos.
"You here to continue the scolding?" Ronan asked dryly.
Kairos snorted. "Nah. Amara ma'am already handled enough for everybody."
Ronan let out a tired breath.
Kairos pushed himself off the wall and walked beside him. "How're you holding up?"
"I'm fine."
"That answer sounds fake."
A weak laugh escaped Ronan before he could stop it.
Kairos draped an arm around his shoulders as they walked through the quiet corridor. "Try again."
For a while, Ronan said nothing.
The academy grounds outside were calm tonight. Wind rustled softly through the trees. Somewhere in the distance, students laughed as they returned to their dormitories after evening training.
Ronan stared ahead.
"I feel like I failed," he admitted quietly.
Kairos didn't interrupt.
"I overused my Aether and blacked out. Darius got hurt protecting me while I couldn't even move." His jaw tightened slightly. "I just stood there."
The memory still burned behind his eyes—the blood, the instability in the rift, the helplessness clawing through his chest while his body refused to respond.
"That feeling..." Ronan exhaled slowly. "I hate it."
Kairos remained silent for several moments.
Not forced reassurance. Not empty encouragement.
Just presence.
That somehow helped more.
Eventually, Ronan shook his head and forced a crooked smile onto his face.
"Enough depressing conversation." He nudged Kairos lightly with his shoulder. "Let's head to the training grounds. I want to see whether that energy infusion actually improved your swordsmanship."
Kairos immediately grinned. "Careful what you ask for. I might embarrass you."
"Oh?"
"You'll see."
The two made their way toward the academy arena.
The night air carried the cool scent of stone and grass after evening dew had begun settling over the grounds. As they stepped onto the sparring platform, four enchanted lanterns ignited around the arena with soft bursts of white light.
Steel slid free from scabbards.
The familiar sound rang crisply through the night.
Then they moved.
Their blades collided with sharp metallic cracks that echoed across the empty training grounds. Sparks scattered briefly through the darkness as Ronan drove forward with quick, controlled strikes while Kairos laughed and barely slipped past them.
"You got slower," Kairos teased.
"You got cockier."
Ronan pivoted sharply, forcing Kairos backwards.
The duel continued beneath the stars—not as rivals trying to defeat each other, but as brothers chasing growth together. Sweat mixed with laughter. Taunts mixed with genuine excitement. Every clash of steel carried trust built through years of fighting side by side.
By the time they finally stopped, both were breathing heavily.
And for the first time since returning from the mission, the heaviness in Ronan's chest had eased slightly.
The next morning, Ronan found Darius waiting beneath a broad tree near the academy's eastern wall.
Morning mist still clung to the grass. Cool wind stirred fallen leaves across the pathway.
Darius looked exhausted.
His shoulders were rigid, and dark circles lingered beneath his eyes as though sleep had avoided him entirely.
"I couldn't bring myself to contact Kael or the others," Darius muttered without looking up.
Ronan tilted his head slightly. "Why not?"
Darius stayed silent for several seconds before speaking again.
"I still can't stop thinking about Lady Ishulane." His hands tightened slowly into fists. "Her soul's injured because of everything that happened. I want to help, but..." He grimaced faintly. "Dragging everyone else into this mess feels selfish."
Ronan listened quietly.
"You and I know the truth," Darius continued. "That's why I came to you first."
Ronan exhaled slowly through his nose.
"Alright," he said. "It's still early. Let's go see Lady Ishulane first." His gaze shifted toward the distant guest district. "After that, we'll start the hunt."
They walked through the academy in silence.
The pathways gradually became more crowded as students hurried toward morning lectures. The scent of fresh bread drifted from nearby cafeterias while birds chirped loudly from the flowering trees lining the academy grounds.
Soon, they arrived near the guest courtyard.
Several students had gathered outside the gate already, whispering excitedly among themselves.
"A new alchemy professor arrived yesterday—"
"I heard she's from an ancient faction—"
"My family already sent gifts this morning—"
Alchemy held enormous prestige throughout the continent. High-tier alchemists were rare, influential, and notoriously difficult to recruit. Many refused noble contracts entirely, wandering the world in pursuit of forgotten formulas and ancient medicinal arts.
Naturally, noble families were already trying to establish connections.
As Ronan and Darius approached the gate, three students stepped directly into their path.
Their robes were adorned with jewelled embroidery and noble crests, expensive enough to feed common families for months.
The boy in front—tall, golden-haired, and carrying himself with practised arrogance—looked Ronan up and down with open disdain.
"Well, well," he sneered. "What do we have here? Commoners trying to crawl into noble society?"
Another boy smirked. "Do you even understand basic etiquette? Lady Ishulane doesn't entertain gutter rats."
The girl beside them laughed softly behind her fan. "Honestly, look at them. One barely has any Aether despite possessing only a single elemental affinity..." Her gaze shifted mockingly toward Darius. "And the other was abandoned by every decent team in the academy."
Darius's fists clenched instantly.
Ronan could hear the tension in his breathing.
For a moment, it looked like Darius might explode.
Then Ronan lightly touched his arm.
"Let's go," he said calmly.
Darius stared at him in disbelief.
But after several tense seconds, he swallowed his anger and nodded.
Without another word, the two turned away.
Their steps remained steady.
Their backs stayed straight.
Behind them, quiet snickers followed.
From the shadows beside the courtyard gate, Oliver Flamecrest watched the entire exchange unfold.
He said nothing.
Did nothing.
His arms remained crossed tightly over his chest while conflict flickered behind his eyes.
As Ronan and Darius walked away, Oliver slowly pushed himself off the wall and followed after them from a short distance behind.
After several moments, Darius finally spoke through gritted teeth.
"Why didn't you say anything back there?"
Ronan continued walking without slowing.
"Were they wrong?"
The question landed harder than any insult.
Darius fell silent.
The morning wind rustled softly through the trees as the two continued down the stone pathway in heavy silence.
Behind them, Oliver's footsteps quietly followed.