Foundation Day arrived with a roar.
The entire city had been preparing for it—streets scrubbed clean, banners raised high, guards stationed at every crossing. People poured in from every corner of the kingdom, flooding the capital like a living tide. Laughter echoed between stone walls, vendors shouted over one another, and the scent of food, smoke, and steel mixed thickly in the air.
The arena district was the heart of it all.
Crowds pressed so tightly together that the streets around the arena barely breathed. Stalls lined every path—food, charms, weapons, trinkets—yet despite the colors and noise, something felt… off. The sky hung heavy with unmoving clouds, the air damp and tense, as if the city itself was holding its breath.
It didn't feel like a festival.
It felt like waiting.
"What? You're not coming?"
Krai's voice cracked with disbelief as he tightened the straps of his gear, already prepared to leave for the arena.
Rick lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his expression calm—too calm.
"I didn't say that," Rick replied quietly. "I'm just saying I'll come later."
Krai turned sharply. "Later? On Foundation Day?"
"Is there a particular reason I need to go early?" Rick asked, sitting up slowly.
Leze glanced over while drying his hair. "That's what we're asking."
Rick hesitated, then shrugged. "I've already seen fights in the arena. Rome's match won't start until afternoon anyway." He glanced toward the window. The clouds hadn't moved. "And look at the weather. It's going to rain. I don't want to get soaked."
Krai stared at him, stunned. "Are you stupid? There's more to watch than just fights! And rain? Have you never heard of something called an umbrella?"
Rick smiled faintly—but it didn't reach his eyes.
That only annoyed Krai more.
"Stop it, Krai."
Rome cut in while adjusting his armor. "In truth, the arena district was the one place Rick had been avoiding for weeks now. Too many people knew his face there. Too many questions. Too many eyes. Ever since the incident with Vein, Rick had chosen silence over explanation."
"You're really staying behind?" Rome asked.
Rick nodded.
Krai clenched his fists. "So you'd rather miss Foundation Day than spend an hour explaining yourself?"
"This isn't about time," Rick said, his voice low. "Or courage."
He paused, searching for words that wouldn't come.
"It's just… not yet."
Krai opened his mouth to argue again—but Leze cut him off with a sharp sigh.
"Fine," Leze said. "I'm leaving first. See you at the arena."
The door slammed shut behind them.
"I'm leaving too," Rome said as he stepped toward the door.
"Come on, Rick. Don't be like that. Let's go," Krai added, irritation clear in his voice.
Rick smiled faintly. "Don't worry about me. I'll join you a little later."
Krai let out a long sigh, clearly dissatisfied, but said nothing more. Moments later, the door closed, leaving Rick alone.
Silence settled over the room.
Rick lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts looping endlessly. What if I run into Eve? What if someone asks? What am I even supposed to say?
Time passed—slow, heavy, unbearable.
"Ah…" Rick groaned, rubbing his face. "I don't know."
He turned his head, frustration creeping in, until his stomach suddenly growled.
"…Guess I should eat something."
With that excuse, he stood up and left the room.
Meanwhile, at the city arena—
The crowd surged like a living sea. Even with the dark clouds overhead and the threat of rain, people packed every street, every entrance, every tier of stone seating. Laughter, shouting, and excitement echoed endlessly. Everything appeared perfect.
Guards patrolled in steady formations. Nobles gathered in the VIP section, sheltered and relaxed. Among them sat Nuel, calmly observing the arena alongside other important figures.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
Outside the main arena walls—
"Why are we attacking the arena?" Mroth muttered, her voice low and irritated.
"What did you expect?" another replied. "The Wink Kingdom ordered us to strike directly. Our masters don't want to strain relations with them. So here we are."
Mroth clicked her tongue. "But still Nuel is at the academy, what about that bastard?"
"don't worry our master will handel it," came the answer. "Now move. It's starting."
With practiced ease, they disappeared into the crowd—vanishing among thousands.
Inside the arena—
"There are suspicious individuals among the audience," one of the guards reported urgently.
"Suspicious?" the officer snapped. "Explain."
"Our magic sensors detected traces of mana-stones within the crowd. Eventhough —bringing mana-stones inside is strictly forbidden.Even worse… they're using modified stones. So it may be magic-gun."
The officer's expression darkened.
"Find the guards. Bring all of them here—now!"
The order rang out across the hall. At once, guards scattered in every direction. Before the last one had even disappeared, a man came sprinting back, breath ragged, face pale.
"Sir, " guard as he tried to catch his breath.
"We have a problem!"
In the VIP area, Nuel sat calmly beside Blaze—until a cold drop of water struck his forehead.
Another followed.
"Rain?" Blaze muttered. "What is the barrier team doing?"
The air felt wrong—heavy, distorted. Then Nuel stood abruptly.
Through the shimmering barrier overhead, a figure descended from the sky.
The head guard came running, nearly tripping over himself as he crossed the barrier, gasping for air.
"Lord Nuel—!"
But before head guard could say anything Noel's voice hardened. "Blaze, Alert everyone. We have uninvited guests."
His gaze never left the sky.
In the crowd, guards closed in on several suspicious figures.
One guard reached out, placing a firm hand on a man's shoulder.
"Sir, you'll need to come with—"
But then a shot rang out through the guards head.
Then another.
And another.
Gunfire exploded across the arena.
People screamed.
"Blaze! Prioritize civilian safety!" Nuel barked.
"My lord—" Blaze replied, panic breaking through his composure. "I'll handle the evacuation!" as he saw Nuel's expression.
Nuel didn't answer.
He was already airborne.
Mana flared violently around him as he shot toward the floating figure above the arena, his expression cold and absolute.
Blaze turned sharply and shouted into a crystal communicator while sprinting down the hall.
"Alert every guard in the city! Evacuate the arena immediately! Lock down all exits and neutralize the attackers!"
Orders echoed outward like ripples.
The arena collapsed into chaos.
People trampled each other in blind terror. Gunshots cracked through the air. Guards raised shields, dragging civilians behind them.
Blood stained the stone.
The cheers of Foundation Day were replaced with screams.
Beneath the seating area of the arena—where students from the academy had gathered to watch the tournament—chaos erupted.
Roy and Mroth were already started killing people when the first gunshot echoed through the stands. They had arrived at the exact moment celebration turned into terror.
Every student present rushed forward, doing everything they could to assist the guards. Spells were cast, blades were drawn, formations were attempted—but it was useless.
They were no match for trained swordmasters.
And the arena was not the only place under attack.
Far from it.
The assault spread across the entire city.
Screams rose from every district, overlapping, endless. Smoke poured into the sky from burning buildings. Blood ran through the streets, washed along by the falling rain as if the city itself were trying—and failing—to cleanse the massacre.
The city had fallen into absolute chaos.
Meanwhile, high above the arena—
Two figures hovered in the storm-darkened sky, facing one another.
Two Eight-Circle mage.
One was Nuel.
The other was Madrok—the master of the Spider.
"Oh?" Madrok said with a faint smile. "So you came in person."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Tell me… how does it feel to be in power?"
Nuel did not answer.
Mana poured from his body, thick and violent, warping the rain around him into hissing steam. The pressure alone caused the air to tremble.
Nuel's voice was low. Controlled. Furious.
"Why are you here?"
Madrok chuckled. "Now, now. Don't be so angry. Look - the person you desperately were searching for is in front of you, so be happy."
His tone shifted, sharp and mocking.
"But tell me, Nuel… why are you trembling?" A slight pause. "Is it because of her-"
But before Madrok could finish his sentence a arrow of fire hit him creating a steam around Madrok.
"Don't you dare speak her name."
Nuel's voice cut through the storm like a blade.
His expression darkened—not with rage alone, but with something colder. His mana surged violently, spilling out of him unchecked, crawling through the sky like a living thing. A chill raced down the spines of everyone who could feel it—guards, mages, civilians miles away.
Even Madrok stiffened.
"Don't be so angry," Madrok said lightly, waving his hand as smoke dissolved around him.
"You know… I truly didn't know she was your daughter."
He tilted his head, eyes glinting.
"Then—what about all the other innocent people you slaughtered in your pursuit of power?"
Noel as he clenched his fists.
"Diy you also didn't knew that they were also someone's family."
The sky trembled.
"That," Madrok continued, his voice sharpening, "is why you're still trapped in the Eighth Circle. Too pure. Too restrained. Talent wasted on conscience."
He spread his arms wide.
"Look at me. Untalented. Weak. Yet here I stand—on the brink of the Ninth. Do you know why?"
Nuel said nothing.
"Because I understood the truth."
Madrok's voice rose, echoing across the burning city.
"This world belongs to the strong. Not the righteous. Not the weak."
Silence followed.
A suffocating silence.
Then—
click.
A staff formed in Noel's hand.
Mana compressed so densely around him that the air screamed. The storm clouds above began to spiral inward, as if bowing to his presence.
"I'm done listening to your nonsense."
Madrok laughed—but it was forced.
"Tired already?" he sneered. "This time, your morals won't save you. You won't survive."
Both of them moved.
The sky cracked.
Meanwhile —
At the academy, far from the battlefield—
Rick sat alone, eating his meal in an unusually quiet cafeteria.
Then—
BOOM.
A loud sound.
As if two laws of reality had collided.
Rick froze.
"…What was that?"
Before he could think, another wave followed—pure magical pressure. His breath caught. His instincts screamed.
He ran outside.
Guards were already moving—faces pale, weapons drawn, sprinting toward the city in full combat formation.
Rick ran toward the nearest instructor, panic tightening his chest.
"Instructor—what's happening?"
The instructor turned sharply, eyes cold and focused.
"A student?"
Rick nodded.
"Good. Then listen carefully." His voice hardened. "The city is under attack. No matter what happens, do not leave the academy. Stay here."
"But—"
"Don't go outside," the instructor cut him off. "No matter what you hear."
And with that, he turned and ran, disappearing beyond the academy gates.
Rick stood frozen for a moment.
Then he moved.
He sprinted back to his room, grabbed his sword, and ran again—this time toward the city.
That was when he remembered a quest with Andrew.
"What?" Rick shouted. "You're going to attack them directly?"
Andrew scoffed. "Would you shut up?"
He stepped closer, voice low but sharp.
"Listen. When enemy's don't know your numbers and you know that you're outmatched."
"In situations like this," Andrew continued, "some draw attention while others take advantage of the confusion and kill the commander—that's how you fight when your outmached."
Rick slowed.
Andrew's words echoed.
And then—
Another voice surfaced in his mind.
"Today, we're going to learn about terrorist groups," the instructor had said during history class.
"There are many across the Ether Kingdom. But the most dangerous among them is The Spider."
Rick remembered how the room had gone silent.
"They never attack a city directly. They use monsters, bombs, and intermediaries. They strike from the shadows and never confront us face-to-face."
The instructor's gaze had darkened.
"That is why they are dangerous."
Rick stopped walking.
Rick stood there in silence, as rain poured down on him heavily.
The forest was alive with whispers.
On the left side, deeper within the trees, figures climbed the academy's outer walls like spiders crawling toward prey. Members of the Spider Syndicate moved with confidence, their laughter low and cruel. They glanced at Will as they passed, eyes filled with contempt.
"Hey," one of them sneered, slowing his pace. "Don't you think you should walk a little faster?"
Will said nothing.
Another stepped closer, studying him like an animal that had already been judged harmless. "You really think we won't touch you just because you were a grandmaster once?"
A hand seized Will's collar.
"Listen carefully," the man hissed. "We may only be ranked in External Arts, but we can kill you anytime."
Still, Will did not react.
Someone laughed nervously. "Relax. He's scared. Besides, we already know where the sword is."
They let go of him and ran ahead, their boots crushing leaves and arrogance alike. Will did not follow. He walked—slow, steady—until the academy wall loomed before him.
He climbed over. Only to find blood scattered on the ground.
Bodies lay scattered across the ground, twisted and broken. Blood pooled beneath them, still warm. The air smelled of iron and fear. A few steps ahead stood a boy—his sword drenched in red. A severed head lay near his feet, eyes frozen in shock. Another corpse collapsed nearby, blood pouring freely, life slipping away.
Rick turned toward Will and kicked the severed head toward him.
Will looked at the head as it struck his foot.
"Thank God you came," Rick. "If you hadn't come i would have looked stupid."
"Listen carefully," Will said.
His voice was flat. Cold. Empty.
"I don't want to kill you. So step aside."
Silence pressed down like a weight.
Then Rick laughed.
Slowly. Mockingly.
He clapped his hands together. "Wow," he said. "What a good person."
The applause echoed against the corpses.
"And here i thought your organization kills innocent people. You torture the weak. And your master—the former head of this academy—used students as experiments. But i was wrong you all are so nice."
Then it stopped.
The smile vanished from his face, replaced by something darker—anger sharpened by belief gripping his bloodied sword.
"Enough," Rick continued, his voice cold. "I'm done listening. Let's get over it, i have work to do."
"It looks like you're not going to listen," Will said quietly. "In that case… I don't have any other choice."
He raised his sword.
"Don't worry," he continued, his voice disturbingly calm. "I'm not going to kill you."
Rick watched him without blinking.
Rick's grip tightened as mana surged through the blade, crimson light pulsing along its edge. Blood still clung to the steel, dripping slowly to the ground. He pointed the sword straight at Will, confidence burning in his eyes.
"I don't need you alive." Rick with cold voice.
The air itself seemed to recoil.
For the first time that night, something shifted. The silence grew heavier, deeper—as if history itself was holding its breath. This was no longer a threat. This was a declaration.
And now, at last, it was time.
Far away from academy, city was already in chaos.
At the grand stadium, instructors and students clashed violently with members of the Spider Syndicate. Mana tore through the air. Steel rang against steel. Above the arena, powerful figures battled in the sky—Nuel and Madrock and city guards, instructors, and some students containing member of spoder in the city.
Everywhere you can see, the city was in chaos.
Yet on the left side of the grounds—far from the screams, far from the battlefield—there was only silence.
No witnesses.
No interference.
Just two figures standing across from one another.
Will and Rick.
The former grandmaster and Vice-Commander of the Royal Knights.
The man who lost his belief in life and word—and the boy who worshipped it.
Rick lifted his sword fully now, blade humming with killing intent.
Will stepped forward.
The ground beneath his feet cracked.
This was not just a fight.
This was the first challenge.
The moment fate chose a side.
And when the swords finally moved, the world would never forget what happened here. And from here the real story of my journey begins.