Military Academy, Underground Laboratory of the Biology Building.
Inside the fishbone-shaped divided rooms, the basic surgeries were still being carried out in full swing. However, this batch of personnel were already students of the First-Star Academy. Upon entering the military academy, each student would be evaluated with a comprehensive score, which determined their assignment to a star-ranked academy. The First-Star Academy ranked the lowest, its student population reaching nearly 80,000, and it served as the primary source of future captains and junior officers in the military.
At this moment, in an office of the square-shaped Biology Building, Bo Lang was sitting at his desk, lost in thought. His brows were furrowed, and he held an empty glass, already drunk in one gulp, with the remaining ice cubes clinking crisply as he moved his hand.
On the desk lay a document titled in red font, alongside a file envelope sealed with the highest-grade wax, perfumed with a specially treated scent.
What should have been a relaxing fragrance had instead become the source of his worry.
"Bo Lang, have you read the notice from the Council?" A voice sounded nearby, the crisp yet elegant click of high heels, each step measured with precise force.
Bo Lang didn't turn to look at the woman walking past, dressed in standard black military combat attire but still wearing impractical high heels for battle—Ximia, head coach of the Second-Star Academy. He only sighed, organizing the scattered documents in front of him before speaking: "Ximia, notify the top officials of each of the Third-Star Academies. And also the professors in charge of the surgical procedures. It seems necessary to hold a general meeting."
"Of course, I came to see you for this very matter," Ximia replied, glancing at the messy stack of papers on Bo Lang's desk, her mood not particularly good. "How about 8:00 PM?"
"Just make sure the notifications are delivered," Bo Lang said, opening a wooden bottle stopper and pouring himself another glass of wine.
The climate was already moving into spring; even within the Blanco Mountains, the change of daylight and night length clearly signaled the seasonal shift, although the persistent cold wind still blew.
Ye Jielin was performing muscle recovery exercises in her room. She had just finished her training for the day, and her muscles were still tense. Following the coach's instructions, she worked to relieve them before taking a hot shower.
The students of the current First-Star Academy cohort had all undergone successful surgeries. Even the latest to awaken had taken only three days—excluding Casia, who had yet to awaken. For students like Ye Jielin, who could regain consciousness just hours after surgery, there were dozens.
Many professors were astonished. Historically, students who could escape from their dream states within mere hours often achieved remarkable accomplishments later. To foster the growth of these dozen students, they requested the military to reduce the number of inhibitory tubes from two to one. With nearly all professors' support, the request was approved.
With only one inhibitory tube, Ye Jielin found it easier to recruit powerful allies.
By around 7 PM, Ye Jielin had finished her shower and was vigorously towel-drying her hair, disliking the damp sensation. As she changed clothes, a knock at the door sounded.
"Good evening, Sister Lin," said Ato Huan, his tone unremarkable. Normally, Selmer would only stand aside and nod. Behind them, a few more people had joined, marking their first formal alliance meeting.
"Let's go find a spot in the cafeteria and grab something to eat; I'm hungry," Ye Jielin nodded, walking ahead in her wooden shoes, their "thump-thump" sound echoing.
"By the way, Fatty, any news about Casia?" Ye Jielin asked, making sure to check on the ally everyone was talking about.
"Well, Sister Lin, Mr. Casia has been unconscious for fifteen days. Today, he was implanted with eight more inhibitory tubes. Although he has been transferred to the main laboratory building, guarded and treated by the military's top professors, there's still no sign of him waking up," Ato Huan replied, unsure of Ye Jielin's thoughts. Despite knowing her for a long time, he always felt pinned down by her presence.
"According to military protocol, after fifteen days, he would be considered a failure and should be disposed of," Ato Huan added, quickening his pace to follow Ye Jielin.
"To have the military go this far, it seems this ally's backing is even stronger than we imagined. Or perhaps he holds some unspeakable secret, enough for the military to act on his behalf?" Ye Jielin murmured.
"If even you can't figure it out, then neither can I," Ato Huan muttered, scratching his head, deep in thought. When he learned Casia had not awakened, his first thought was that this ally must be weaker than Sister Lin expected. The length of the dream significantly impacts one's future trajectory due to the life-threatening nature of inhibitory tubes. But as the situation progressed, even slightly shrewd observers noticed something unusual surrounding Casia. The military operates directly under the Empire, with great autonomy, making any interference a serious matter.
Meanwhile, at exactly 8 PM, all top officials of the military's Third-Star Academy gathered in the meeting hall.
Everyone stared solemnly at the copied documents in their hands.
"Observations from the Astronomical Palace of the Divine Academy indicate a red star? Can this be confirmed?" an elderly professor asked, raising his copy.
"Of course, Professor Bruce. This matter was confirmed three days later by the Seismology Bureau. The information has now spread across all Imperial institutions. Today's meeting is partly to notify you, and partly because, I'm sure, you already understand the implications," Bo Lang said.
"Every time the red star appears, the central sea currents accelerate, bringing extreme heat from the polar whirlpools—a deadly phenomenon."
"And simultaneously, the Endless Sea along the Rear Continent freezes completely, and extreme cold currents follow."
"El Niño the Holy Infant and La Niña the Holy Maiden meet again," someone sighed.
"Thus comes the flood; the Red Desert is bound to ignite again," said Ort, head of the Third-Star Academy's Execution Department, overseeing students' practical courses and missions.
"No wonder the Far-Sea Common Council invaded the Visea Fortress. This time, they dispatched two generals of the Crusader Expedition, the Deputy Far-East Governor, and several Crusader Knights from the Temple and Hospital orders. I wondered why they acted so recklessly—now it makes sense," Ximia added.
"Yes, this meeting is primarily to notify you about the red star's appearance. There are four critical matters ahead," Bo Lang said, sighing, pausing before continuing:
"First, all Far-Sea Common Council forces have been repelled, with only one Hospital Order Crusader returning. Of the five Round Table Knights we sent, only one returned safely, one is missing with fate unknown—likely hopeless—and the remaining three are confirmed dead. The Council intends to appoint multiple backup Round Table Knights during the buffer period of the Holy Infant and Holy Maiden's encounter to fill vacancies. These backups will also have the opportunity to be crowned 'King of Knights.'"
"What on earth are the Council and the Holy Emperor thinking? Have they gone senile from their high positions? Do they understand the weight of this decision?" Bo Lang anticipated the reaction, signaling everyone to control their emotions; there were still other matters to address.
The room quieted, though thoughts raced about the intentions of the higher authorities.
"Second, the Military, Council, and Holy Emperor explicitly require that training accelerate, even at the cost of higher attrition. Starting with this incoming class, the five-year study period is reduced to three years. Execution Department and professors present, your responsibilities will be heavier. Within two weeks, you must submit a reorganized training schedule and surgical progress report," Bo Lang said, somewhat exasperated.
"This is absurd. Compress two years of training—how can it still be reasonable? Why not just have the students carry rifles into the southern forests?" someone joked.
"Bo Lang, are you sure this is what the higher-ups intend? Cutting two years has serious implications—you understand this as a coach, right?"
"Of course. The decision is clear in the document, and the reason is the third matter I need to notify you about," Bo Lang nodded.
"Third, the encounter between the Holy Infant and Holy Maiden will occur nine years from now. But we have only seven years to prepare. Hence, the military issued the previous directives. This means that whether it's us, the Far-Sea Common Council, or the Flame Alliance, everyone starts on equal footing. Red stars appear and disappear unpredictably; observing this early is both fortunate and unfortunate."
"Just when we've had enough good days, the hard work comes again," some elderly professors joked.
"But the Military Academy exists precisely for this day, even if we resist it in our hearts," Bo Lang said. "Finally, the fourth matter concerns a student from the First-Star Academy."
"The Council has issued a new notice: the school must maintain the current state of this student. If the final twenty-day deadline arrives and the student remains unresponsive, he must be transferred to Avalon."
Everyone in the Council Hall gasped.