The courtyard finally stopped shaking.
The metal gate lay on the ground in a twisted heap, still glowing faintly red. Melted stone crackled as it cooled. The smell of burnt fur and ash lingered in the air.
Aren stood in the middle of the destroyed courtyard, chest rising and falling heavily. His burns stung. Blood dried in dark lines across his ribs. His bow hand trembled from exhaustion.
But he was alive.
And the demonhound—the enormous C-rank beast that had crashed into the Academy—lay dead at his feet.
Students peered from behind pillars and broken walls, whispering in fragments.
"He killed that?"
"No way… that was a demon, right?"
"Why did it come here…?"
"Is the seal weakening?"
Aren ignored them.
He didn't have the energy to respond.
Instructors rushed around, trying to regain control.
"Secure the courtyard perimeter!"
"Reinforce the inner seal!"
"Evacuate any injured students!"
Aren wiped blood from his cheek, wincing when his fingers brushed the burn.
Everything hurt.
But he forced himself to stand straight when he saw Kane walking toward him.
Kane's boots crunched over broken stone. His coat fluttered slightly from the heat still radiating off the demon's corpse.
He stopped in front of Aren.
His eyes scanned Aren's condition—the burns, the trembling arm, the exhaustion in his stance.
"You're hurt," Kane said.
Aren let out a weak breath. "A little."
Kane gave him a look that clearly meant liar, but he didn't comment.
Instead, he crouched by the demonhound's corpse.
"This wasn't part of any trial," Kane muttered. "Something disrupted the barrier."
Aren frowned. "Do demons break through often?"
"Almost never." Kane touched the cracked molten wound, watching ash crumble beneath his gloves. "But sometimes… something in the seal weakens. It happens maybe once every twenty or thirty years."
Aren blinked. "So this was just… bad luck?"
Kane stood, dusting off his hands.
"Bad timing," Kane corrected. "You just happened to be the one standing closest when it broke through."
Aren couldn't tell whether to laugh or sigh.
It really was coincidence.
Nothing more.
No one sending assassins.
No mysterious figure.
Just a random demonic breach—horrible timing, nothing else.
Kane pointed at Aren's ribs. "You need the infirmary. Those burns aren't small."
"I'm fine," Aren said automatically.
"You're bleeding through your shirt."
Aren looked down.
Oh.
Right.
Kane didn't smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
"Come on."
Aren followed him toward the inner buildings, limping slightly. Every step reminded him of the demon's claws tearing along his ribs.
As they walked, sealing specialists rushed into the courtyard, setting glowing runes into the stone to patch the broken barrier.
One of them, an older mage with gray hair tied back tightly, walked up to Kane.
"Sir Kane! We located the breach point!"
Kane nodded. "Where?"
"North section of the forest trial boundary. Right where the mist wall was weakened earlier."
Aren blinked.
That was the path he used during his trial.
The older mage continued, "It's not uncommon. When hundreds of students enter the trial grounds in one day, the seals strain. The demon must've been roaming near the border when it cracked."
Aren felt a knot in his chest loosen.
He hadn't caused it.
It wasn't about him.
It really was coincidence.
Kane exhaled. "We'll reinforce all outer seals. It won't happen again."
The mage nodded and hurried away.
Aren waited for Kane to say something, but he didn't.
Not until they reached the stone corridor leading toward the infirmary.
"You did well," Kane said quietly.
Aren turned, surprised. "I did?"
Kane met his gaze.
"Yes. Most soldiers wouldn't survive a C-rank demonhound alone."
A heartbeat.
"And you're just sixteen."
Aren lowered his eyes, unsure what to say.
He didn't feel proud.
He felt tired.
Kane placed a hand on his shoulder—not gently, but firmly, like a teacher grounding a reckless student.
"This doesn't change who you are," Kane said. "Don't let a lucky victory make you arrogant."
Aren nodded. "I won't."
"But…" Kane continued, "neither should you underestimate yourself."
Aren looked up.
Kane's expression was serious.
"What you did today," he said, "wasn't normal. Not for your age. Not for your level."
Aren swallowed. "Is that… bad?"
Kane shook his head. "Not bad. But important."
Aren didn't fully understand, but he filed the words away.
As they reached the infirmary doors, Kane stopped.
"After treatment," he said, "report to Training Hall Two. Don't rest too long."
Aren frowned. "Already?"
Kane nodded once. "Your potential is higher than most. I'll be responsible for your early training."
Aren blinked.
"…You're taking me as a disciple?"
Kane didn't smile.
He simply answered:
"I noticed you during the trial. Now I'm sure."
Aren felt a strange warmth stir in his chest—part pride, part disbelief.
Kane turned to leave.
"Rest for an hour," he called over his shoulder. "Then find me. We're only getting started."
Aren watched him disappear down the corridor.
Demons.
Coincidence.
A near-death fight.
And now a teacher like Kane.
This world was moving fast.
Aren took a slow breath and stepped into the infirmary.