After that night when he had explored Vexar's room and the threshold of the basement, something changed.
It wasn't immediate or obvious, but Thiriel felt it clearly.
The atmosphere of the tower became tenser.
The following days passed normally. Training, hunts, meals, rests.
Everything followed the same order... but Vexar was no longer the same. His presence had become more constant, heavier.
He spent long periods observing the apprentices from a distance, asking questions that seemed casual but always aimed at the same thing: progress, rhythm, core stability.
And, above all, Thiriel.
He didn't confront him directly. He didn't pressure him openly. But he was attentive to every one of his movements.
'Something is making him lose patience,' Thiriel thought after one of those encounters.
He didn't know exactly why, but he sensed it. Vexar was desperate for something. Something that wasn't happening as quickly as he wished.
That meant danger.
Meanwhile, Thiriel hadn't stopped.
Night training continued without fail. Every night, when the tower settled into its silent routine, he refined magic, strengthened his body, and adjusted the flow of the Magic Warrior Aura to increasingly precise limits.
It was no longer just an experimental technique; he could already use it with ease, now integrated into his way of moving and fighting, although it still caused a significant burden on the body.
Progress, however, was becoming slower.
Moving from the third to the fourth star wasn't simple. There were nights when he barely made imperceptible advances, and others when the exhaustion was such that he had to stop to avoid damaging his core.
But, finally, it happened.
One night, while refining in silence, the internal flow stabilized in a different way. Denser. Deeper.
The core spun with perfect regularity, and Thiriel knew, without needing external tests, that he had taken the next step.
Rank D, four stars.
He showed no reaction whatsoever. He didn't smile. He didn't celebrate.
He only confirmed one thing: time was running out.
'A little more,' he thought. 'Just a little more and we can leave.'
His plan was clear.
Escape the tower with Caethiriel.
Not hastily, but waiting for the right moment, when Vexar was absent or distracted, and disappear without a trace.
With his current level, he could survive outside. He could protect her.
But Vexar wasn't a fool.
As the days passed, the surveillance intensified.
Puppet servants appeared more frequently near his room. In the forest, although he was now allowed to hunt alone, he always felt that distant presence, that silent tracking that never entirely disappeared.
Even on hunts with other apprentices, Vexar sometimes appeared without prior notice, watching from afar with his staff resting on the ground.
"He is waiting for something," Thiriel told himself. "Or he is preparing something."
Drowen, for his part, seemed restless.
He continued advancing at a good pace, but he had lost part of his initial arrogance. He spoke less, trained more, and constantly sought Vexar's approval.
Kael was still Kael.
Honest, steady, always willing to help. On several occasions, he had gone out hunting with Thiriel, and Thiriel had taught him small adjustments to improve his control and positioning in combat.
Not secret techniques, but practical advice.
Kael learned fast.
That gave Thiriel a strange feeling.
Not mistrust.
But not absolute tranquility either.
One day, everything changed.
The apprentices were gathered early. Vexar was there, serious, with a slightly furrowed brow.
"Today there will be a group hunt," he announced. "Drowen, Kael, Lorian, and the other junior apprentices will go out together. Two senior apprentices will accompany you."
Thiriel looked up.
"You," Vexar added, looking directly at him, "will stay in the tower."
He gave no explanations.
Drowen seemed surprised, but didn't protest. Kael looked at Thiriel with some confusion.
"Obey," Vexar said. "And do not separate."
The group departed shortly after, entering the forest. Thiriel watched them move away from one of the tower windows.
Something didn't fit.
It didn't take long before he felt it.
A distant pulse.
Then another.
And then… chaos.
The magic in the environment agitated violently. From the tower, even without seeing them, Thiriel perceived what was happening.
"A pack," he murmured. "Beasts in large numbers."
Minutes later, the tower filled with movement.
Puppet servants running. The two senior apprentices preparing.
Vexar appeared in the lobby, staff in hand, his expression tense.
One by one, almost all the servants and the remaining apprentices left the tower heading toward the forest.
The tower was left almost empty.
Thiriel didn't think twice.
He went straight to the gardens.
He found Caethiriel gathering herbs, oblivious to the chaos.
"Cae," he said with a firm voice. "I need you to trust me."
She looked up, surprised by his tone.
"What's wrong?"
"We have to leave. Now."
The young girl's expression tensed.
"Leave…? The tower?"
"Yes," he replied. "There is no time for explanations. Pack only the essentials."
Caethiriel hesitated for barely a second.
Then she nodded.
"Okay."
She moved quickly, returning to her room to gather her few belongings.
Thiriel did the same, storing the indispensable in his spatial bag.
In a matter of minutes, they were ready.
They advanced through the tower corridors, heading toward the rear exit Thiriel had identified long ago as the least guarded.
And then…
They passed in front of the basement entrance, which was guarded by four servants.
The heavy iron door was there, motionless, silent.
Thiriel stopped.
Caethiriel looked at him, confused.
"Brother, what's wrong?"
Thiriel clenched his fists.
This was the moment.
The tower was almost empty. Vexar wasn't there. There were only four servants.
If he didn't do it now, perhaps there wouldn't be another chance.
"Wait here," he said.
"What?"
"Don't move," he repeated. "No matter what happens."
Before she could reply, Thiriel turned toward the basement door.
"Stop, Thiriel. The master ordered that no one approach the basement," said one of the puppet servants mechanically.
Upon getting close enough, Thiriel activated the Magic Warrior Aura to the maximum and in less than a second lunged toward them, rapidly closing the distance, and conjured four wind cuts, decapitating the four servants simultaneously without giving them time to react.
Caethiriel screamed in surprise.
"Brother, why did you do that? The master will punish you for that."
"They are puppets, Cae. They aren't living beings, or at least they haven't been for a long time."
Thiriel approached the basement door and placed his hand on the cold metal.
This time he didn't try to listen. He didn't try to be careful.
He channeled magic.
Much more than he had used before.
The Magic Warrior Aura activated fully, reinforcing his body as he directed the magic toward the lock and the runes. He felt the resistance, the magical barrier opposing him.
He grit his teeth and pushed.
The runes flickered.
A crunch resonated in the hallway.
With a final effort, the lock gave way.
The door opened.
A dense and unpleasant smell emerged from below, mixed with a sensation that made Thiriel's skin crawl.
"What is this?" he murmured.
He went down the first steps.
The light of the magic torches revealed what was hidden in the basement.
Magic circles engraved on the floor, blackened by repeated use. Channels carved into the stone, filled with dark residues. Stained stone tables.
And beyond…
Cages.
Cells.
Remains of clothing.
Bones.
Thiriel felt his stomach clench.
"So here," he whispered. "This is where the missing apprentices are."
Vexar's secret was in front of him.