Yezlyn Zeism spoke with controlled authority, her eyes scanning the room. "At Myrren Academy, we trained these outsiders with our own hands. Several have reached the peak of their class and have graduated. They are disciplined, talented, and capable of more than most in our Empire could imagine."
Yusen, standing tall and confident, added, "We also have Rankers on our side."
A hush fell over the room. The word carried weight—only a handful of outsiders ever reached such a title.
"Rankers are extraordinary," Yusen continued, his voice measured but firm. "Out of hundreds of thousands, only about a hundred can achieve it. We have several, carefully monitored and guided by the Imperial command and the King himself. Among them, our strongest are Rankers 3 and 4. They are the elite, the ones we use to control the battlefield from within."
He paused, letting the information sink in. "With their help, and the coordination of our Empire, we can contain the threat and turn these outsiders into our most powerful weapon. They will be key in defeating the Demon King."
The nobles and high-level warriors in the room nodded, a mixture of pride and seriousness crossing their faces. The plan was ambitious, but they had the resources—and now, they had the people capable of executing it.
Sera Valcrest, standing slightly behind, allowed herself a brief glance toward the window, sensing distant auras. She knew the Empire had strength, but even she felt the faintest twinge of unease. The Demon King would not be easily subdued, even with Rankers on their side.
Owen leaned close to the throne. His voice was low, the kind of whisper that cut through the rumble of the council like wind through iron.
"Owen — Right Sword of Valcrest. Level eighty," he said softly, then met Darius's eyes. "Your Grace, we finally have proof about Zerath. One of the Six Houses aided the Third Seat — Rebecca. They passed intelligence and men."
Darius's face closed like a folding blade. The room tightened around him; the murmurs died.
"Who?" he asked flatly.
Owen met the question with a cold look. "The Darganth family — the Shield of the South. Scouts saw their banner near the ruins. There was also an outsider moving with them."
Owen straightened and lifted his voice, not shouting so much as making the whole hall lean in.
"Stop this meeting," Darius said, standing slowly. His words fell like orders. "We have evidence. One of the Six has betrayed the Empire."
His hand hovered near his sword. The air in the chamber felt thinner, charged.
"The Darganths have allied with demons," Darius continued. "In my name, we will purge them. I will dispatch the garrison. We will erase the Darganth line."
Shock rolled through the nobles. Faces paled. Even Yezlyn — head of Myrren Academy — and Yusen, the Saint who had once stood against the Paradox, looked stunned.
Soldiers gathered at the edges of the hall. Armor clinked, boots shifted. The mansion filled with sudden motion: orders being whispered, messengers ready.
Yusen rose first. "I will bring this to the Imperial Council," he said, voice steady, and left without waiting for assent.
Yezlyn did not hesitate. Her staff glowed as she cast a flight spell and rose from the hall. "We must ready the mages," she called over her shoulder as she slipped through the open roof and into the morning air.
She had not flown far when a figure blocked her path.
Haru hovered between earth and sky like a still shadow. The air around him felt wrong — as if the world had to lean away from him. Yezlyn's skin prickled; the scent of old blood and cold stone filled her senses.
She slowed until she hovered opposite him, staff raised on instinct. Her voice dropped. "Is it your name is haru ?… what is this presence?"
He did not smile. He did not explain. He only looked at her, and the pressure in the air made her breathe shallower.
"Death," she whispered. "So much death qi…"
They landed softly on the roof of a nearby house, tiles barely shifting under their feet. The wind moved between them — quiet, tense.
Haru spoke first, his voice calm but edged with cold.
Haru: "You're the head of Myrren Academy, right?"
Yezlyn straightened, her robe still faintly glowing from her flight spell.
Yezlyn: "I am. Why? Is there something you want?"
Her tone was calm, but her eyes were sharp, reading every flicker of his mana.
Haru lowered his gaze for a moment.
Haru: "I just want to ask… do you know a student named Minji? She studied there—three years ago. I don't even know if she's still alive."
His voice cracked slightly at the end. Beneath his usual coldness, there was a trace of something human—fear, maybe hope.
Yezlyn didn't answer right away. She only stared, her expression unreadable.
Haru's hands curled into fists.
Haru: "I heard your academy was attacked by a dragon. That's the last thing I knew…"
His voice went flat—empty and cold—as if each word drained him.
Yezlyn's expression changed. She felt the shift in his aura—sadness buried under rage. Her instincts screamed caution. Without a word, she began drawing a glowing circle beneath her feet.
Haru: "A teleportation spell?" he muttered quietly, sensing her mana.
The circle flashed, and in the blink of an eye, both vanished from the rooftop.
They reappeared seconds later in a wide field of grass, far from the city. The night air here was silent—no soldiers, no noise, only the rustle of the wind.
Back at the Valcrest Mansion, Duke Darius's expression hardened as he felt a distant pulse of magic.
Sera turned toward the direction of the mana, her eyes narrowing.
Sera: "That's Yezlyn's energy. I'll check it out."
Darius gave a short nod, saying nothing more. He turned back to the war table, eyes cold and calculating, already preparing the next move