Avalon, as the technological core of the Empire, was the source of almost all of its key innovations: super-steam compression devices, airship development, cerebral white matter excision surgery, improvements to differential machines and analysis machines, electrical applications, the formulation and practice of inhibition theory… nearly every core technology of the Empire flowed out from Avalon. It served as an experimental base for top scientists and inventors.
It was an isolated utopia. Although technically under the Holy Dorag Empire, Avalon did not belong to any department or institution of the Empire. Even the highest authority—the Council—or the Holy Emperor's Court had no command over Avalon. In essence, Avalon belonged to the Empire, yet was completely separated from its structure. Each year, while Avalon's funding from the Empire continued to increase and the Empire's resources provided were virtually limitless, the Empire tacitly accepted this ambiguous relationship.
Naturally, the fact that Avalon's people could be persuaded—or voluntarily work for the military—was astonishing.
The Council session ended amid murmurs and subsequent silence.
Bo Lang tidied the scattered documents on his desk, turned off the lights in the Council room, and prepared to leave.
At that moment, the crisp click of high heels came from behind—Ximia, the only one with a penchant for heels. Whether at the Military Academy or on missions, her high heels seemed to be a standard part of her tight black combat suit—her personal standard configuration.
"Training has already started. Don't teach your students bad habits. Unlike you, they don't have immense strength or experience. Wearing those shoes on a mission can easily double their mortality risk," Bo Lang commented. From his perspective, anything that hindered his effectiveness was a matter of bad taste.
"Of course, but I've survived all these years just fine. As for my students, they'll learn what to wear and do on missions in due time. You needn't worry about that," Ximia replied, smiling from behind.
"Speak then. Waiting for me here—what is it this time?" Bo Lang closed the door. Standing before him was a curvaceous woman with long, pale gold hair tied in a ponytail. Yet, her appearance did not spark the slightest interest in him.
Having known each other for over a decade as faculty members, Bo Lang could gauge Ximia's temperament almost perfectly.
"Need I say? It's about Avalon," Ximia said, her heels clicking sharply along the long, brightly lit corridor.
"What's hidden about it? You're from the Kirandii family. I don't believe you don't know the reason. Or are you just confirming the truth with me?" Bo Lang asked.
"I can assure you, it's true. As an old friend, I advise you to stay put at the Military Academy and focus on teaching. You know how much effort it took to get you in here. With the red star's arrival, if you get involved, I don't want to play the good guy and end up rescuing you at great trouble," Ximia said, her Imperial tone devoid of warmth, only marked by its usual gravity.
"Sigh… so it really is that mad girl?" Bo Lang murmured after a long pause. Ximia exhaled, her gaze wavering, seemingly lost in thought.
"Of course. She liberated a third of the Holy Spear Longinus and should be treated as a 'King of Knights.' Avalon holds great reverence for the 'King of Knights,' as you should know. The Kirandii family's past decisions will one day exact a price."
"Let's hope so," Ximia shook her head.
Bo Lang never looked back, disappearing around the corridor corner in a few strides.
By around 9 PM, the Third-Star Academy Council concluded. When several top professors returned to the main laboratory building, they found Casia, who had been unconscious for fifteen days, now opening his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Following Sukalyus's instructions, Casia removed the password card, immediately enveloped in countless blue electric arcs. Within seconds, he couldn't sustain it and collapsed into unconsciousness again.
But when he opened his eyes again, the surroundings had completely changed from the day of his surgery.The restraints were no longer leather but soft steel cables. Electrodes and sensors covered almost his entire body, with multiple large machines monitoring his condition.
He hadn't been "disposed of" yet. Feeling the twenty-four inhibitory tubes in his body, Casia realized exactly what Sukalyus had warned him about: his body felt like an exploding cauldron of oil—or more accurately, a cauldron of platinum-grade explosives.
Without the inhibitory tubes, surviving even two days would have been a miracle. Casia felt a strange, extreme discomfort: waves like tsunamis surged inside him, yet the immense power seemed muffled, hitting as if on cotton—a bizarre and contradictory sensation.
His throat felt as dry as in the dream. The IV drips and nutrient fluids beside the metallic table could not quench his thirst. Fortunately, someone passing by gave him a few sips of water, relieving him somewhat.
Less than half an hour after waking, the professors returned. Observing the constantly changing numbers on the monitors, they administered multiple injections of a blue, glowing sedative—Dragon Calmer—until some readings began to stabilize. Only then did the professors visibly relax.
"Kid, you need to try controlling the rejection reactions in your body. We can only help by implanting inhibitory tubes and administering Dragon Calmer shot by shot. These have limits, and you should already feel the state of your body," the professors said, observing and comparing his vitals.
"If you hadn't undergone surgery, these intense biological reactions could have caused multiple normal adults to suffer organ failures and die. The fact you endured is thanks to the daily Dragon Calmer shots. Lie still—your data shows gradual recovery. Hopefully, the rejection response will subside. Then you can leave these steel tables and cables."
Once the door closed, only the scent of various medicines remained in the spacious room. Casia could now discern them all. Normally inaudible mechanical clicks now sounded like massive bells in his ears.
Looking at the gray ceiling, even its fine textures appeared vividly to him. Casia had yet to notice his eyes now radiated golden and red cross-shaped patterns—the Cross Golden Eyes.
The surgery was fulfilling its purpose.
Following Sukalyus's instructions, Casia began attempting to control the reactions within his body.
It seemed Sukalyus's words were true. The data on nearby machines dropped sharply as the violent rejection reactions subsided. His rapidly beating heart calmed, the hydraulic-like blood pressure eased, the scalding exhaled air softened, and the golden glow and red blood light in his cross-shaped pupils disappeared. His eyes returned to clear white and black.
"Yet even in this stabilized state, it's still uncomfortable," Casia frowned. The substances related to dragons in his body had nearly lost their fiery intensity, but the inhibitory tubes' effect remained, strongly affecting his own tissues.
Three days later, Casia was discharged, wearing light blue patient clothing. Bo Lang picked him up. Casia followed behind like when he first entered the academy. He did not hunch over this time, though his body, still weakened from fifteen days of surgery, remained fatigued.
Watching Bo Lang ahead, Casia felt it all seemed like yesterday—if not for the ten-plus days he spent in the lab.
"You don't have much time to recover. Use it to finish all the books in your room; don't skip any courses. Your future missions depend on it," Bo Lang said, turning to Casia. "You've had another moment of glory at the Third-Star Academy. Other students are already training. I want you to catch up quickly—Empire strategy has changed, and time is limited."
"Understood, Coach," Casia exhaled, feeling an inexplicable sense of loss.
"Kid, if you're down because of the surgery, I suggest you let it go now," Bo Lang said, his body standing firm as a mountain. As he turned, his eyes became golden cross-shaped pupils—ready to give Casia his first official Military Academy lesson.