The doors to the Elder Hall groaned open slowly.
Cold air spilled out from within.
Instructor Lukas stepped inside without hesitation, his heavy boots echoing against the polished black floor.
The hall was massive.
Far too massive for only seven people.
Tall white pillars stretched upward into darkness, disappearing beyond the reach of the glowing chandeliers suspended high above. Pale light washed over the chamber, giving everything a faint silver tint.
At the very center stood a long table carved from white stone.
Seven figures clothed in white robes sat around it.
The robes themselves were plain, almost disappointingly simple for people who governed the most powerful academy in Eldria.
No unnecessary decorations.
Each elder sat at equal distance from the next, their faces partially hidden beneath lowered hoods.
Lukas stopped several meters away from the table.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The silence stretched calmly across the chamber.
Then—
One of the elders finally moved.
An old hand emerged slowly from beneath a white sleeve and rested against the stone table.
"Lukas."
The voice echoed calmly through the vast hall.
"You may proceed."
Lukas inhaled deeply.
"An assassination attempt."
The words landed heavily in the chamber.
"It was carried out by a member of the Belial Circle."
For the first time since entering the hall, Lukas' expression hardened visibly.
"He was no ordinary operative. Judging from the mana density and the spell he invoked…" His eyes narrowed slightly. "At minimum, Warrior-level."
The atmosphere in the hall shifted faintly.
"A Warrior-level infiltrating the academy grounds unnoticed…"
Another elder spoke quietly.
"That alone is troubling."
"And the student he targeted?" a different voice asked.
Lukas went silent for a moment.
Then he exhaled slowly and shook his head.
"…I'm afraid he may not survive."
His voice lowered slightly.
"The damage was devastating."
Even now, recalling the scene made his brows tighten.
The black surge released after the invocation…
The pressure alone had shattered sections of the arena barrier.
"No matter how many defensive layers the boy managed to construct," Lukas continued, "I doubt an Ember-level sorcerer could survive direct exposure to something like that."
Silence followed.
Then—
"And the other students?"
Lukas straightened immediately.
"I evacuated them before the spell fully manifested."
A faint crack ran across part of the white stone table.
Tiny.
Barely visible.
But Lukas noticed it instantly.
One of the elders had unconsciously tightened their grip.
"…Belial Circle," the elder murmured quietly.
Another elder finally leaned back slightly beneath their hood.
"That organization has been silent for years."
"Clearly not silent enough."
The hall fell quiet again.
Then, from the far end of the table, a deeper voice emerged.
"What was the target's name?"
Lukas hesitated.
Just briefly.
"…Raven Hart."
The moment the name left his mouth—
The atmosphere changed.
Subtly.
But unmistakably.
Several elders who had remained completely motionless until now slowly lifted their heads beneath their white hoods.
One of them released a quiet breath through their nose.
Another tapped a finger once against the stone table.
The sound echoed softly through the hall.
Then silence returned.
Cold.
Measured.
"You may leave now, Lukas," one of the elders said calmly.
"You have done well."
Lukas frowned slightly but bowed nonetheless.
"As you command."
The giant doors of the Elder Hall groaned open once more.
Then closed behind him.
The echoes of his footsteps faded into the corridor as he walked away, brows faintly furrowed.
Something about that reaction bothered him.
The elders had not looked shocked.
Not concerned.
If anything…
They had looked relieved.
Lukas exhaled slowly through his nose.
Just what exactly was going on with that boy?
Far away from the academy, beneath the shadow of the northern cliffs of Eldria, stood the massive ancient Hart estate.
The fortress-like mansion overlooked the surrounding lands like a king observing lesser kingdoms beneath him.
And at the very center of it all—
The Throne Hall.
Towering black pillars lined both sides of the chamber, stretching upward toward a ceiling painted with faded scenes of dragons and war.
Hanging behind the elevated throne was the sigil of the Hart family.
A one-eyed dragon.
Its massive painted eye seemed to stare down at everyone who entered the room.
Watching.
Judging.
The hall itself was silent save for the crackling of blue flame torches mounted along the walls.
At the far end sat a man.
Red hair.
Deep black eyes.
Broad shoulders wrapped beneath a dark coat lined with silver embroidery.
Even seated, he carried a pressure that made the entire hall feel smaller around him.
His fingers rested lazily against the arm of the throne-like chair as he read through several documents spread across the table beside him.
Then—
BANG!
The large doors swung open.
A servant hurried inside, nearly tripping over himself in excitement.
"My Lord Sir!"
His voice echoed through the hall.
The man on the throne didn't move.
Didn't even look at him.
Still, the servant continued eagerly.
"We've received news from Arlon Academy!"
That finally drew a response.
The man's dark eyes shifted slightly.
The servant swallowed nervously before speaking quickly.
"It's Raven, My Lord Sir!"
His face lit up with poorly hidden excitement.
"The reports say he was caught in an assassination attempt carried out by a Belial Circle operative!"
The servant grinned.
"They said his survival is unlikely!"
Silence.
The crackling fire echoed softly in the hall.
The servant waited expectantly.
Surely the Lord would be pleased.
After all
Everyone in the estate knew Raven Hart was a stain on the family name.
The man finally spoke.
"…Unlikely?"
His voice was low and calm.
The servant blinked.
"Y-Yes, My Lord Sir! The academy apparently believes he won't survive his injuries—"
"Then he's alive."
The servant froze.
The man slowly leaned back into the throne.
His expression remained unreadable, but something cold entered his eyes.
"Y....yes sir. I just thought that perhaps—
FWIP!
The servant's voice stopped.
Something sliced through the air.
For a brief second, nothing happened.
Then his head slid cleanly from his shoulders.
THUD.
His body collapsed immediately after, blood spilling across the polished black floor beneath the giant one-eyed dragon banner.
The Lord stood calmly beside the corpse.
One hand remained slightly raised from the casual swipe he had made moments earlier.
Not magic.
Just pure force from the swipe of his hand.
"Celebrating Raven's death before seeing the corpse…"
His deep black eyes narrowed slightly.
"…is a good way to die disappointed."