Orin smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "So… you'll help me?"
Ronan snorted softly. "If not me, then who?"
A faint grin pulled at his lips, small but genuine enough to ease the tightness that had lingered between them since the Rift incident.
Orin let out a breath through his nose. "We've got two weeks."
"Then we advance within two weeks." Ronan's answer came without hesitation. Firm. Certain.
Orin studied him for a moment beneath the lantern glow, swaying across the deck. "You already have a plan, don't you?"
"I'll tell you later." Ronan leaned back against the railing, fingers tapping lazily against worn wood polished smooth by years of travel. "But answer me honestly first. Are you really planning to merge your core with that Rank-Three beast?"
"Yes."
No pause. No doubt.
Ronan's eyes narrowed slightly. "You could ask your family for something stronger."
Orin's expression flattened.
The breeze shifted between them, carrying the scent of clouds and cold night air from the endless sky below the flying vessel. For a brief moment, only the creaking wood and distant hum of the vessel's engines filled the silence.
"I could," Orin admitted quietly. "But I don't want anything from them."
There was something sharp hidden beneath those words. Old resentment. Old disappointment.
Ronan glanced sideways at him, then sighed.
"Then that's your loss." He folded his arms. "But I'll still help you."
Orin's shoulders loosened slightly at that.
Not far away, half-shadowed beside one of the mast pillars, Alden and Alaric stood in silence, having overheard the exchange.
Alaric's stern features softened.
"Now I understand," he murmured. "Why all of you gravitate toward Ronan?"
Alden raised an eyebrow.
"He reminds me of my younger brother," Alaric continued, gaze drifting toward the two boys sitting beneath the stars. "Back in the day."
Alden said nothing at first.
But the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
He turned away before the expression became too obvious, muttering gruffly, "Think what you want."
Even so, under the lantern light, the rare smile on his face was impossible to miss.
Alaric lifted his eyes toward the heavens above.
Countless stars shimmered across the vast darkness, ancient and distant.
Then his gaze settled on Ronan again.
Inwardly, he whispered,
"Do you still blame yourself for letting him go alone?"
His throat tightened faintly.
"Brother… wherever you are… they still mourn that day."
The night remained calm around them.
The sky looked endless, painted with rivers of stars and drifting silver clouds. A cool breeze rolled across the deck, fluttering cloaks and carrying the faint scent of rain somewhere far beyond the horizon. Ronan and Orin sat side by side near the edge of the vessel, quietly taking in the stillness.
No arguments.
No monsters.
No blood.
Just silence.
And strangely enough, after everything that had happened recently, the quiet felt unfamiliar.
Footsteps echoed softly across the wooden planks.
Darius approached with both hands tucked into his coat pockets, his usual confidence dulled by hesitation. "Mind if I join you?"
Ronan shrugged lightly.
Orin nodded. "Sure. Why not?"
Darius sat beside them with a low exhale, stretching his legs out in front of him. For a moment, he simply stared upward.
Then his gaze shifted toward Ronan.
"How's your condition?"
Ronan's eye twitched instantly.
He turned slowly toward Darius with a flat stare.
"I've answered that question eight or ten times already." His voice came out dry with irritation. "I'm fine. Stop asking."
The air turned awkward.
Orin coughed into his fist and looked away.
Darius grimaced sheepishly. "Right. Fair enough."
He scratched the side of his cheek before quickly changing subjects. "Anyway…"
Reaching into his storage ring, he pulled out a thick leather-bound book stuffed with folded papers and bookmarks. He flipped through several pages before holding it toward Ronan.
"Want to hunt some of these?"
Ronan took the book lazily at first, but his posture straightened as his eyes scanned the pages.
Rank-Three beasts.
Rank-Four creatures.
Rare habitats.
Material values.
His gaze sharpened.
Several entries contained monster materials known for restoring or strengthening soul-related damage.
The irritation vanished from his face almost instantly.
A crooked grin slowly spread across his lips.
"Well," he muttered, "isn't this interesting…"
Orin leaned closer. "What?"
Ronan nudged him with his elbow, eyes still on the pages. "We just found our chance to Tier up."
Orin blinked. "What do you mean?"
Ronan flipped the book around and tapped several entries.
"These materials." His voice lowered slightly, becoming more focused. "A lot of them help with soul recovery. If we collect enough, I can recover faster while strengthening my soul at the same time."
His grin widened faintly.
"We're definitely doing this."
Darius leaned back against the railing. "I figured you'd say that."
"For Rank-Three monsters, we're fine." Ronan continued scanning the pages. "But if we go after Rank-Four creatures, we'll need backup."
"At least one or two Master Tier fighters," Orin added immediately.
Darius nodded. "I can ask Kael and the others."
"Good." Ronan closed the book with a soft thud. "Then we leave the day after we arrive at the academy."
No hesitation.
No uncertainty.
The moment an opportunity appeared, Ronan had already committed himself to it completely.
"Alright," Orin agreed.
The conversation slowly faded after that.
Darius eventually stood first, stretching his arms over his head before heading below deck. Orin followed after him not long after, though he paused briefly before leaving.
"Try not to stay awake all night."
Ronan waved him off dismissively without looking away from the sky.
Soon, he was alone.
The deck had grown quieter now, save for the rhythmic hum of the vessel and the whisper of wind sliding across the wooden boards. Ronan lowered himself onto the planks, folding his hands behind his head.
Above him, the stars burned quietly.
Endlessly.
Cold and ancient.
His eyes reflected their light as his thoughts drifted.
Two days and one night passed swiftly.
By noon on the second day, the massive gates of Serenwyn Academy appeared beyond the clouds.
Towering white stone walls stretched across the mountain cliffs, engraved with glowing runic formations that shimmered beneath sunlight. Vast bridges connected floating towers in the distance, while streams of students moved like ants through the enormous academy grounds below.
The flying vessel descended slowly toward the main entrance platform.
Wind roared around the deck as the engines weakened.
With a heavy vibration beneath their feet, the vessel landed smoothly.
Alaric stepped forward immediately. "Kael, Aira, and Roderick—you're with us for the report."
His gaze shifted.
"Lady Ishulane, please accompany us as well."
Lady Ishulane inclined her head gracefully. "Of course."
Alden then turned toward Ronan.
"Come to my office after Amara's class ends."
The moment those words entered his ears, Ronan visibly stiffened.
A shiver crawled down his spine.
"…Yes, sir," he muttered weakly.
Orin nearly choked trying not to laugh.
Even Darius looked away to hide his grin.
Ronan shot both of them a glare sharp enough to cut stone.
Alaric, Felix, Alden, Lady Ishulane, Kael, Aira, and Roderick soon departed toward the council building, their robes fluttering behind them.
Meanwhile, the remaining students dispersed toward the dormitory paths.
Ronan suddenly turned around and shouted, "Samantha! I'm heading to Hunter's Boutique and Iron Ember Forge! I'll be back by evening!"
Samantha stood near the dormitory stairs with her arms crossed.
"Okay!" she shouted back. "But don't forget to visit Amara, ma'am, afterwards!"
Ronan instantly stumbled mid-step.
He nearly tripped over his own foot before catching himself.
Orin burst into laughter behind him.
Without turning around, Ronan raised a hand and waved dismissively, walking away much faster than before.
Hours passed.
The academy gradually settled back into its normal rhythm.
Students returned to the dormitories.
Classes ended.
The afternoon sun drifted lower across the mountain peaks.
Even Amara's lessons had long since concluded.
Yet Ronan still hadn't returned.
Inside the council hall, however, tension steadily thickened.
Alden, Felix, and Alaric stood before the senior authorities, giving a detailed report regarding everything that had occurred within the Dimensional Rift.
The atmosphere grew heavier with every revelation.
Spirits.
Ancient seals.
The Keen Eye skill.
The Celestial Race.
One of the senior authorities stiffened visibly the moment Lady Ishulane's origins were mentioned.
He immediately leaned toward a nearby aide and whispered urgently,
"Call for Arnold. Bring him here immediately."
The aide hurried out without delay.
Meanwhile, the discussion continued.
An older official rose slowly from his seat, brows furrowed deeply.
"There have been several incidents involving the Keen Eye skill over the centuries," he said grimly. "Most users died shortly afterwards."
His gaze locked onto Alden.
"The survivors had their magical cores shattered."
The hall fell silent.
"How," the man asked carefully, "are you still standing here?"
Alden exhaled slowly before answering.
"We encountered a sealed spirit within the Rift. A powerful one." His voice remained calm and measured. "We helped break the seal. In return, he granted me an artefact capable of generating a false magical core."
Several elders immediately leaned forward.
"Another spirit then transferred my Keen Eye into that false core," Alden continued. "That was what got destroyed."
Murmurs spread through the chamber.
Shock.
Disbelief.
Greed.
An elder with white brows lowered his voice carefully. "And Ronan? Did he undergo the same process?"
Alden hesitated.
Just slightly.
His mouth opened—
But another elder scoffed loudly before he could answer.
"Hmph. Serves him right."
The contempt in the man's voice immediately chilled the atmosphere.
"This is an academy, not a playground for reckless children chasing ancient powers." He folded his sleeves behind his back. "There's a reason Keen Eye isn't taught."
His eyes narrowed coldly.
"If not for Gideon, I would never have allowed that boy into Serenwyn in the first place."
Alden's expression darkened instantly.
"Single affinity," the elder continued dismissively. "Low Aether. What future does he even have here? He belongs in Sylvara, not Serenwyn."
Alden's fists clenched beneath the table hard enough for his knuckles to pale.
The veins along his forearm tightened.
His chest rose once.
Twice.
The pressure in the room subtly shifted as restrained fury leaked from him.
Then—
The council doors creaked open.
Everyone turned.
Arnold entered the chamber.
Silence descended almost immediately.
Age rested heavily upon him, but not weakness. His mere presence carried the weight of authority earned over centuries. Even the elders who had been arguing moments earlier straightened instinctively.
One by one, everyone stood.
Arnold's sharp gaze swept across the hall.
"What is the emergency?"
His voice was calm.
Firm.
Then his eyes landed on Lady Ishulane.
He froze.
Since entering, genuine shock broke through his composure.
He stepped forward slowly, studying her face as though confirming something impossible.
"…Lady Ishulane?"
The room grew even quieter.
Arnold turned slightly toward Kael, Aira, and Roderick.
"Do the three of you have anything further to report?"
"No, sir," they answered together.
"Then you may leave."
The trio bowed respectfully and exited without delay.
Only after the doors shut behind them did Arnold look back toward Lady Ishulane fully.
A strange mixture of astonishment and reverence settled into his expression.
"It has been centuries," he said softly.
His voice carried something deeper now. Something almost disbelieving.
"And yet… I never imagined I would see you again."