The old man closed the scripture slowly, his fingers resting on the worn leather cover for a moment longer than necessary.
"It has been many years since you and your brother joined the Church," he said, his voice gentle but layered with memory. "I still remember the day he awakened his talent. You cried harder than he did. You were holding onto him as if the world itself was trying to take him away."
The young girl flushed faintly but did not look embarrassed. Those memories were not ones she regretted.
The old man studied her carefully. "The Academy will open its gates soon. Astral Crowncrest does not wait for anyone. Before you enter that place, you should see more of the world beyond these walls. You both should travel outside to learn more about the ways of the world. You cannot remain under the Church's protection forever."
She shook her head without hesitation. "I'm not going anywhere. I have already decided that I will stay and help the people here. I want to open a small workshop outside the Church grounds and focus on healing. That is enough for me."
"And Arthur?" the old man asked quietly.
A soft sigh escaped her. "He only wants to train. From morning until night. Archbishop Ronald has told him many times to go out and gain experience beyond the training yard, but he refuses every time. If anyone can convince him, it would be you, Holy Father."
The old man let out a faint chuckle. "Send him to me the next time you see him. It is time he understands that strength without perspective becomes weakness."
He continued ,"His only flaw is that once he decides something, he refuses to bend.
He is too stubborn for his own good.
Some of the here elders have already suffered losses because of that stubbornness."
"In today's world, things are rarely that simple.People even less so. If one cannot adapt, one eventually pays the price for it."
He looked at her meaningfully. "What an insufferable child."
She smiled. "Yes, Holy Father."
For a moment, silence settled between them. Then the old man turned his gaze toward the horizon beyond the Church walls. His eyes, though aged, were clear and sharp.
"Isabella, remember what I have taught you when you attend the Academy. It is no longer what it once was. Beneath its banners and polished halls lie currents you will not see at first glance. You must not judge anyone by appearances. Those who seem harmless are often the most dangerous. Smile when necessary. Observe always. And avoid making enemies carelessly."
She pouted slightly. "Our Church is strong. Shouldn't others be the ones worrying about offending me?"
A faint, almost tired smile crossed his face. "If only the world worked that way."
He did not elaborate.
As Isabella returned to her book, the old man's hand tightened subtly against the scripture.
Somewhere far beyond the Church's reach, something had chand.
It was not loud. It was not violent. But it was enough to disturb the threads he had been watching for years.
An anomaly had appeared.
And they never came alone.
Lucifer carved another line into the stone wall of the cave.
The scratch was shallow but deliberate. It had become a habit since awakening here, a simple way to mark the passage of time in a place where days blended together too easily.
He stepped back and studied the uneven tally marks that now covered nearly an entire section of stone. It had taken him almost a month to reach this point.
Nearly thirty days of isolation. Thirty days of training. Thirty days without hearing another human voice.
The silence had only been broken by steel cutting through air, by his own measured breathing, and by the occasional irritated "Papa" from the small creature currently perched on his shoulder, chewing on what little dried fruit remained.
His communicator still showed no signal. The hidden domain suppressed network transmission completely. There were no messages, no news, no outside interference. Only the mountains and the cave.
It was mid-February.
The Academy would open in April, leaving roughly one and a half months before enrollment. He had more time than he had originally expected, but he would not spend all of it here.
Fifteen more days.
That was the limit he had set for himself.
When he had first entered the Highlands, he had planned to leave the moment he awakened. The idea had been straightforward - achieve awakening, return to Creston City, stabilize his position, and move carefully from there.
But unexpectedly at the last moment,the Spirit Pearl had fused with him.
The Spirit Realm that came with it changed everything.
A sealed environment hidden from detection. A private training ground where time could be stretched. A storage space detached from the outside world. It was a better opportunity than anything he could find in the city.
So he stayed.
One day turned into several. Several turned into weeks. Training filled every waking hour. Adjustment took longer than expected.
And now his food supplies had dried up.
He had not planned for this long a stay. The rations he brought were calculated for a short period, not for obsessive refinement. The last of the preserved meat had already been divided carefully over the past few days.
If he intended to remain here for another half month, he would need to hunt.
The thought did not unsettle him.
If anything, it felt overdue.
He looked down at his hands again.
Even now, his movements were not fully natural. He had jumped from unawakened to Early E Rank in a single violent transition. His Origin ability stood at A Rank, far above what most beginners possessed.
Such growth did not settle quietly.
His grip sometimes tightened harder than necessary. His steps carried too much force. His rotations overshot balance. Inside the Spirit Realm, he could correct these flaws safely. Outside, mistakes would draw blood.
Recently, something else had begun creeping in.
Confidence.
Not the steady confidence earned over years, but the dangerous kind born from rapid progress. Hours spent overwhelming simulated opponents inside the Spirit Realm had started to make him feel untouchable.
That illusion needed to be broken.
Real combat did not follow predictable patterns. Real opponents did not behave like constructs.
He touched the newest tally mark again, thinking carefully.
He would begin hunting tomorrow morning.
Nothing reckless. Only wandering monsters in the outer regions of the Noct Vale Highlands. He had no intention of venturing deeper. He valued his life too much to gamble it for pride.
Fifteen days of hunting would serve multiple purposes. It would provide food. It would test his reflexes. It would force his body and mind to synchronize under real pressure.
Then he would return home.
There were matters within the Valcrest household that required preparation. If he wished to prevent his family from walking the same doomed path described in the novel, he needed to move before events accelerated. Disappearing for too long would invite investigation. Investigation would invite complications.
He adjusted the monkey lightly on his shoulder.
"Tomorrow," he said quietly, "we will hunt together."
The creature tilted its head, as if trying to understand the shift in tone.
Lucifer walked toward the cave entrance and looked out at the distant mountain slopes. The wind moved softly across the Highlands, carrying with it the faint scent of cold stone and lingering mana.
He did not know what kind of creature would answer his bait when morning came.
He did not know whether he would need to fight or retreat.
Tomorrow, he would step out of controlled training and into uncertainty.
And somewhere far away, an old man who had spent decades observing the slow turning of fate felt the faintest tremor in the pattern.
The mountains were quiet.
But they were not empty.