Empress Rain Riversong was a woman of magnificent, transcendent beauty. She possessed flowing, lustrous white hair that cascaded down like liquid moonlight, a face carved by the gods themselves, a figure hypnotic and sensual enough to make the goddesses of the high realms jealous, and flawless, creamy white skin.
Her intoxicating silhouette was draped in a regal white gown, complemented by a plush white fur scarf draped elegantly over her shoulders. She wore white heels that tapped softly against the polished marble floor, and atop her head rested a grand, golden imperial crown. Covering her eyes was an intricate, golden blindfold that only added to her ethereal, mysterious aura.
The imperial throne room was thick with a heavy, suffocating tension as Emilia Von Crown stood directly before the dais. Empress Rain had summoned the matriarch of the Crown family to address the sudden decree that had sent shockwaves through the Empire's politics just yesterday.
"Emilia, why exactly did you unilaterally place the R.S. Advanced Academy under your duchy's jurisdiction?" Empress Rain asked smoothly, her cheek resting comfortably against her knuckles. Her voice was calm, dripping with the absolute, unquestionable authority fitting for the sovereign of the Empire.
"It is the direct result of Headmistress Victoria Jackson's incompetence," Emilia answered instantly, meeting the Empress's blindfolded gaze with a completely neutral, unyielding posture. "I am entirely certain your spies have already provided you with the detailed logs of what transpired."
"They have," Empress Rain replied, her cadence unbroken. "However, a single breach in perimeter security—even an assassination attempt on your son—does not grant you the right to unilaterally seize a private institution. One that has maintained diplomatic immunity from both the Royal Family and the High Noble houses since the founding era."
"Did you truly expect me to sit back silently after receiving news that my son was shot down in broad daylight?" Emilia's voice rose slightly, a sudden frost rimming the edges of her words. "Rain, those Aimus rats have successfully infiltrated the deepest administrative sectors of the Academy, and Victoria couldn't take a single proactive measure to prevent it. I refuse to sit back and watch those vermin treat my son's learning place as their personal execution ground."
Empress Rain let out a slow, measured sigh, her golden crown shifting slightly in the dim, ambient light.
"I understand your maternal sentiment, Emilia. Truly, I do," the Empress spoke softly. "However, a brash territorial move of this magnitude is going to trigger immense political instability across the noble factions. And that structural chaos is precisely what the Aimus faction was aiming to manifest from the very beginning. Their primary objective was never just the execution of your son; it was using his blood to fracture the Empire's political balance."
A heavy silence descended upon the grand hall following her words.
Emilia remained motionless for a long moment, though a look of profound, cold disappointment gradually settled across her imperial features.
"Rain..." Emilia spoke, her voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register. "Are you truly sitting on that throne and doubting the sheer, absolute dominance of the Four Aristocrats? Chloe, myself, Alexia, and Arnold? Any pathetic attempt at political instability generated by the Aimus... is not even a mild inconvenience for us."
"I never doubted the competence of the Four Aristocrats," Empress Rain replied smoothly, her tone unruffled by the sudden chill in the air. "I simply refuse to tolerate complacency, and my words were meant to convey that precise warning. Amon was targeted in broad daylight due to administrative complacency, plain and simple."
Empress Rain paused, leaning back against the high throne, a rare, thoughtful furrow appearing on her brow. It was a question that had lingered in her mind for years: why were the Aimus so utterly, obsessively adamant about eliminating Amon?
Granted, he was the heir to the second most powerful house in the entire Riversong Empire, but was that political status alone truly enough reason to burn through countless assets just to take his head? What missing variable drove the Aimus to risk total annihilation just to execute a teenage boy?
"My son met the Red King when he was only eight years old," Emilia spoke up suddenly, her voice dropping into a quiet, grave register as if effortlessly reading the Empress's silent thoughts. "He looked directly into the face of the Red King twice—and he survived both encounters. It happened during Costoria Leone's ninth birthday banquet. The Aimus are terrified of what is locked inside his mind: the infinite knowledge imparted by the Red King's madness-inducing gaze."
"Hold on..." Empress Rain's calm facade momentarily fractured, her golden blindfold tilting toward Emilia in genuine surprise. "I was never briefed on that last detail..."
"Because I didn't even know it myself until Amon turned ten," Emilia explained, her fingers tightening slightly against her dress. "He finally revealed it to me after the Aimus launched that massive assassination attempt on his own tenth birthday. According to Amon, surviving the Red King's gaze granted him a specialised sub-skill known as [Mad Mind]."
Emilia took a slow, measured breath, the weight of the secret hanging heavy in the grand hall.
"The sub-skill acts as a cognitive database—it allows him to retrieve information regarding practically anything in the present and the past with pinpoint accuracy. However, the cost is catastrophic. He cannot pry into the future, as attempting to parse the future will instantly collapse his sanity. Furthermore, he cannot keep [Mad Mind] active continuously, because the raw, unfiltered data stream rapidly degrades his mental stability."
"So..." Empress Rain looked utterly dumbfounded, her regal posture slipping for the first time as the sheer weight of the reveal settled in. "You mean to tell me... that your son possesses a sub-skill virtually identical to the Holy Emperor's [God's Insight]... and the Aimus are burning through every asset they own simply because they calculated he will inevitably become the direct catalyst for their total annihilation...?"
She brought her hand up, resting her palm against her forehead in a rare, exhausted facepalm.
"Emilia, from what I've been informed, he has two Primordial Beasts bound as his summons, and a literal Champion of the Solathian Empire serving as his personal attendant. Despite every single one of those failsafes... he was still successfully assassinated."
"Yes," Emilia affirmed, her voice turning solemn as a heavy gloom settled over her features.
The strategic layout executed by the Aimus faction was simple, yet terrifyingly precise. They had engineered a deliberate Dark Magium infestation deep within the Frozen Zone of the Academy, anticipating with certainty that Oberyn would be deployed there as an active Professor, bringing the class along with him. The Aimus were intimately aware of Amon's exact class schedule thanks to their mole embedded directly within the Academy's administrative ranks.
They utilised Professor Oberyn's outdoor class as the ultimate vehicle to lure Amon out into the open and execute him in broad daylight. However, this reckless manoeuvre forced them to expose crucial strategic cards: it confirmed the existence of their internal leak. It revealed that they possessed detailed psychological profiles of Oberyn Lockhart's true identity and behaviour.
The Aimus had seamlessly weaponised a sequence of overlapping variables: Amon's stubborn, self-reliant mindset; Oberyn's thinking process; the Solathian Champion's mandatory absence during formal instruction hours; and Amon's action of deploying his Primordials to shield his classmates.
They exploited every single weakness to land a fatal blow, but they made one small, catastrophic miscalculation. They failed to anticipate that Amon's summons possessed enough capability to order Death around and bring their master's soul back from the dead—completely invalidating their meticulously crafted operation.
Empress Rain began to chuckle softly, her initial exhaustion rapidly twisting into dark amusement. As her mind pieced together the fragmented intelligence reports and fully reconstructed the Aimus's operational blueprint, a genuine grin spread across her lips.
"Why are you laughing, Rain?" Emilia asked, her gaze remaining entirely neutral.
"The Aimus have grown so utterly, pathetically desperate to eliminate a single boy that they actually outmanoeuvred a mind like Oberyn's," Empress Rain said, turning her golden-blindfolded face back toward Emilia, an amused smile etching across her features. "And even after executing a play of that magnitude... they still couldn't keep him in the ground."
Rain leaned back, her voice dripping with entertainment, though an underlying thread of terrifying malice seeped into the air.
"Emilia, you are officially excused for today. I assume you will be maintaining direct jurisdiction over the Academy until your son formally graduates, and I have zero objections to that arrangement."
Emilia's brows furrowed slightly in confusion, her internal guard surging by several degrees as she picked up on the sharp malice lacing the Empress's tone. "What exactly are you planning, Rain?"
"A prize," Empress Rain answered casually, resting her chin on her hand. "It is only proper imperial etiquette to send a fitting prize to the Aimus for such an extraordinary effort, isn't it?"
The sharp, predatory grin stretching across the Empress's face told Emilia everything she needed to know.
"You want us to execute a complete purge of their moles?" Emilia asked.
"And sever every single one of their heads, packing them neatly to be delivered straight to the primary stronghold of the Aimus," the Empress added, a gleeful, ruthless smile defining her features.
. . .
Seraphina couldn't focus on the class. It had been three days since the horrific Frozen Zone incident, and Amon was still completely unconscious.
According to Professor Oberyn's precise evaluation, it would take him at least a full week for him to wake up—and even that was an optimistic estimate. Even though he had been pulled back from the dead by his Primordial familiars, he had still taken a high-calibre sniper bullet infused with concentrated Dark Magium directly through the chest. In truth, it would take a literal miracle for him to open his eyes any sooner.
"Miss Nightfallen, why are you spacing out during my lecture?" Professor Judy called her out, her voice breaking Seraphina's trance. "This lesson is important for the upcoming first-term exams."
"I'm sorry, Professor..." Seraphina stood up slowly, offering a tired, hollow expression.
She hadn't slept properly for the past three days. Every single time she closed her eyes, the vivid, horrific scene of Amon getting shot through the chest flashed against the back of her eyelids, instantly shattering any chance of rest.
The entire lecture hall turned to look at her, but nobody snickered. Every student in the room knew what she was going through. Most of them had personally witnessed Seraphina visiting the infirmary daily, sitting by his bedside for hours on end. It hadn't even been three weeks since the academic term officially began, yet the two of them had already formed an undeniable, deep connection. Seeing him motionless was inflicting a heavy toll of anxiety and grief on her mental state.
"Look, Miss Nightfallen, I understand your deep concern for your classmate," Professor Judy spoke up, her voice maintaining its usual professional demeanour. It wasn't cruel or punitive; if anything, she was trying to offer a gentle, considerate reality check. "However, you cannot allow his situation to derail your academics completely, can you?"
"I understand... Professor..." Seraphina nodded quietly, forcing her voice to remain steady. "I'll focus on the lecture."
"Good," Professor Judy gestured softly for her to take her seat. "Now, as you all should be aware by now, Wind Magic's utility is primarily optimised for structural support and environmental control..." Professor Judy seamlessly turned back toward the main board, resuming her detailed breakdown.
"Professor Judy is right, you know," Lucy, who sat directly beside Seraphina, whispered. "You can't keep destroying yourself over Amon's condition. He's going to recover soon enough."
Seraphina didn't respond out loud, letting out a long, exasperated sigh as she stared down at her blank notebook.
"Look, Amon is a ridiculously strong guy," Lucy continued, her voice full of genuine confidence. "I know it because he carries that specific, subtle aura—the kind that only truly powerful people give off. He doesn't showboat or brag about his feats, but he's genuinely built different. I'm telling you, he's going to come around as if nothing happened. So, cheer up a little!"
Lucy's energetic, bright smile offered a momentary shield against the heavy gloom, bringing Seraphina a small wave of genuine relief in the middle of the quiet lecture hall.
. . .
"You're quite weak," Zephyra said, holding Calisto by the throat as a mocking smile stretched across her lips. He was badly bruised, his breath coming in ragged gasps, looking like a man standing on the brink of collapse.
The girl towering over him possessed a striking, ethereal beauty. Her skin was rich and bronze from the sun—a sharp, captivating contrast to the fiery red hair cascading down her back like a shimmering, molten waterfall. Her crimson eyes, narrow and razor-sharp, held an unsettling weight of predatory power, framed by the dark, defined sweep of her lashes.
But her appearance was merely the surface coating. Beneath that elegance lay a physique honed to a lethal, violent edge. Lean, sculptured into a sharp hourglass, and heavily defined with dense muscle, her body possessed a fluid grace born of relentless, brutal combat training. Every single line of her arms and legs was taut and defined, speaking of a raw physical strength that completely belied her regal frame.
Zephyra's attire was a deliberate, sharp departure from the Academy's rigid administrative traditions. Beneath a loosely draped robe bearing the proud Lion insignia of the Lion House, she wore a simple white tank top that highlighted her athletic build.
Eschewing the standard female skirt entirely, she had opted for the tailored black pants of the male uniform, tucked neatly into clean white combat shoes. The choice was a loud, deliberate statement of pure utility over ceremony—marking her as someone who prioritised combat efficiency over institutional pressure to conform.
"Haha... picking on someone weak..." Calisto spat, blood dripping steadily down the side of his forehead as a mocking grin broke across his battered face. "Doesn't that... make you look even weaker?"
He glared up into her narrow crimson eyes, his voice dripping with venom.
"Zephyra Valkaress... You actually need to hunt down fighters weaker than you... just to farm rank points... to maintain your precious first rank on the Duelling Leaderboard? What an absolute joke of a Rank 1..."
Zephyra's grip tightened around his windpipe, her knuckles turning pale as the bronze skin stretched taut.
"When every single so-called 'duellist' in this Academy is a pathetic, soft, spineless shrimp," Zephyra murmured, her voice dropping into a dangerous, low rumble, "you really can't help who you have to crush."
Without a single fraction of hesitation, she whipped her arm back and threw Calisto with overwhelming, monstrous force. His body shot through the air like an artillery shell, crashing violently through several buildings in a cascading cloud of dust and shattered debris.
Calisto was knocked out cold, and at that moment, the reality surrounding Zephyra dissolved into shimmering particles, shifting her back into an opulent, breathtakingly grand hall. High above the vaulted ceiling, a massive, crystalline screen flashed alive with glowing golden text:
[ DUEL CONCLUDED ]
VICTOR: Zephyra Valkaress ➔ Rating: 3,521 (+5)
DEFEATED: Calisto Castellano ➔ Rating: 1,722 (-12)
The grand arena was the main Duelling Hall of the R.S. Advanced Academy. Many first-year, second-year, and third-year students were engaged in constant, fierce combat against one another. The duels themselves took place inside isolated, safe Mirror Worlds, but the high-definition projection screens lining the walls displayed every spell clash and brutal exchange in real time.
Yet, no matter how intense those battles appeared to the crowd, Zephyra felt completely detached.
To her, every single match felt painfully identical. She was strong to the point where not a single student in the entire Academy could stand as an equal match for her—and in truth, even the majority of the faculty Professors would be thoroughly crushed if they stepped into the arena with her. Standing alone at the pinnacle of power made every single day agonisingly boring.
"I really thought that Calisto guy would offer at least a fraction of entertainment," Zephyra thought, letting out a long, disappointed sigh as she stretched her muscular arms. "And that absolute bitch of a President still refuses to fight me, no matter how much chaos I cause across the campus."
Sophia Von Crown and Zephyra Valkaress shared a long history. As the Student Council President, Sophia maintained an uncompromising, iron-fisted rule over the entire student body. Everything under her administration was kept strictly disciplined, and any student bold enough to break her decrees was dealt with instantly and ruthlessly.
That oppressive structure was something Zephyra loathed to her very core. She was a raw, free-spirited individual who lived for the thrill of life, and Sophia's control felt like a leash. To make matters worse, Sophia had introduced strict safety regulations that prohibited students from going "all out" during official duels, completely stripping the thrill from combat.
Driven by irritation, Zephyra had formally challenged Sophia to an unrestricted duel, wagering that if she won, every single regulation restricting duelling intensity would be permanently abolished. But Sophia had flatly declined. No matter how many times Zephyra provoked her, the Crown heiress treated her like an annoyance and refused to step onto the stage.
"Oh well, no use wasting my mental energy on that bitch," Zephyra thought, turning her back on the cheering arena and exiting into the main corridor.
As she strolled through the grand hallways, students instantly scrambled out of her path, pressing themselves against the stone walls to avoid her line of sight. Zephyra was the most feared student on campus due to her wild, battle-manic nature and her terrifyingly flawless brilliance. In terms of academic placement, she ranked second only to Sophia herself, who held the top spot among the third-years.
While navigating through a crowded intersection, she lightly bumped shoulders with a junior girl heading in the opposite direction.
"You should really move out of someone's path when they're walking," Zephyra spoke calmly, though her deep, natural presence came off as intensely intimidating.
"I-I ap-apologise..."
The junior girl bowed her head politely, her voice sounding deeply exhausted and laced with nervous tension. She was remarkably beautiful, and her Academy robe bore the proud Dragon insignia of the Dragon House.
"It's fine," Zephyra waved her hand dismissively, her crimson eyes scanning the girl. "A simple apology is plenty. You didn't need to bow like that."
Zephyra tilted her head, her interest piqued.
"What's your name?" she asked.
Her sudden curiosity stemmed from a rare instinct: this junior girl radiated a distinct, subtle aura compared to the rest of the students. Not only that, but Zephyra couldn't help noticing how several nearby students—who usually scattered at her approach—were subtly shifting their footing, looking like they were ready to recklessly jump in to protect the girl if Zephyra made an aggressive move.
"My name is Seraphina Nightfallen," the junior girl replied softly, her tired eyes meeting Zephyra's narrow gaze for a brief second. "Once again, I sincerely apologise for standing in your way, Senior..."