By the ti Nolan returned to Room 33, the sun had shifted across the sky.
The courtyard had quieted.
The sll of mana-burnt stone and lted alloy still lingered faintly in the air, but most of the crowd had dispersed.
The classroom door creaked open and he stepped inside. Empty. Quiet.
He didn’t know what happened to the students or the results of the assessnt.
The logistics had been overtaken by the spectacle. But soone had assured him—offhandedly, like it was the most natural thing in the world—that he was accepted as a permanent instructor now.
That part didn’t feel real yet.
He sat at his desk, staring out the window. There was an odd hollowness in his chest. Not sadness exactly. Not fatigue either. Just... a strange emptiness, like a line of code missing from a program he’d been running for years.
He had escaped his past. He had survived his brother. He had found a place, even a title.
So why did it feel like sothing was missing?
A soft gust of wind fluttered through the open window, and then—
flutter flutter flutter
Wings.
Nolan turned just in ti to see a blur land on the windowsill with all the grace of a falling leaf. The wings shimred violet in the light, tipped with translucent edges that pulsed faintly with heat. It was her.
Lirazel.
The missing succubus.
Her red eyes sparkled with mischief and focus as she leaned in, grinning like a feral cat. "Let’s go hunt!"
Nolan blinked. "Hunt?"
"I took the weapons from my dragon den," she declared, hands on hips, chest puffed with pride. "Let’s go and kill those creatures. With your rank, it’ll be easy! You can clean them out before they evolve too far. If they start growing unchecked, we’re going to have a real problem."
He squinted. "Wait... the creatures from earlier? That thing?"
She shook her head like he’d just insulted her breakfast. "No, no. Those weren’t the main one. That was just a higher spawn. The others—the lesser ones—they’re breeding right now. You think the one they brought was the only one? Please. That was a sample. A single offshoot. They’re called spawns, not ’whatever-that-was-called.’"
"Oh." Nolan rubbed his temple. "Spawns. Right. Got it."
Lirazel stepped fully into the room now, wings folding behind her as she dropped a sack on the floor. It clinked with dangerous steel. "These are prepared. Blessed alloy from my third hoard. Reinforced edges, imbued shock cores, even a backup talisman that flares when you’re near the den."
"Den?" Nolan repeated blankly.
"Yup," she said, unfurling a rolled parchnt with a grid-like map. "We need to find their den. Spawns don’t randomly appear. They nest. And worse—each ti you kill one, if the den isn’t destroyed, it regenerates them with adaptive changes. Basically, if you kill them once and leave, the next ti they’ll be tougher. Faster. More resistant. That’s how they spread. And once they spread, it’s a nightmare."
Nolan scratched his head. "Look, it’s already been taken care of. The chief’s people dealt with the spawn earlier. Pretty sure they know what they’re doing. You don’t have to worry."
Lirazel froze, blinked twice, then burst into laughter—not mocking, but exasperated, like a parent hearing a child say they had hidden the monster under the bed with a blanket.
"They can’t be killed that easily!" she said, voice rising. "You really think it’s over? That was just the bait. The bait! And now they know we can hurt them, so they’re going to shift. Multiply. Hide deeper. That’s what spawns do. It’s what they’ve always done. You think I sat on my hoard for nothing? I knew they were coming back!"
Nolan leaned back, eyes slowly widening. "You an... they’re still out there?"
Lirazel’s face turned deadly serious.
"Yes..."
Suddenly, a knock broke the silence—a polite but firm rap at the door that made Nolan jolt upright. Lirazel, still mid-rant, cut herself off with a flick of her wings and vanished in a shimring puff, leaving behind only a faint sll of brimstone and lavender.
Nolan blinked.
Then the door creaked open, revealing none other than Old Duldor, hunched yet hearty, his eyes gleaming beneath thick white brows, his golden-trimd robe fluttering faintly from the breeze outside.
He stepped inside with the dignity of a parade float but the warmth of a grandfather, and his lips curled in an impossibly satisfied grin.
"There he is!" the old man bood, his voice full of mirth. "The man of the hour! The great teacher of the most problematic class!"
Nolan blinked. "Uh... hey."
Old Duldor stepped closer and gave a brief but aningful pat on Nolan’s shoulder. "You’ve done a great service to Silver Blade Academy and Silver Blade City, young man. Truly. That creature incident would’ve gone far worse without your tily good teaching."
Nolan shrugged a little, awkward. "I just taught sothing I didn’t know would work."
"Exactly!" Duldor laughed. "That’s the kind of mad instinct this place has been missing."
He reached into his robes and pulled out a dark velvet scroll, sealed with a golden sigil. "By the decree of the City Council and confird by the Black Vale Military Delegation, you are hereby promoted to be a full fledged teacher of the Silver Blade Academy. Not on trial. Not temporary. Permanent. Tenured."
Nolan blinked again. "Wait. Already? But I just—"
"There’s more," Duldor continued, pulling a second scroll from inside his robes with the sa theatricality. "Due to your rit and direct contribution to the safety of both this city and our long-standing allies in Black Vale Territory... you are to be granted permanent residency."
"...Residency?"
"Indeed," Duldor bead. "You now have your own estate within the west outer-ring of the city—near the Spellforged Quarter. Spacious land. Secluded. Protected by city wards. You’ve even got a mailbox."
Nolan’s jaw parted slightly, but nothing ca out. His mind was still buffering the word estate.
"And," Duldor added, now producing a third scroll, this one glimring faintly with embedded mana sigils, "you’ve also been awarded noble status."
That did it.
Nolan’s brain crashed.
"What?" he managed.
"A minor noble, of course," Duldor said casually, like he was comnting on the weather. "Not a line of succession. But still noble. Your family crest is being processed. You’re officially listed as Lord Nolan, recognized by Silver Blade City and the allied Black Vale registry. You can own land. Build holdings. Sit in on local hearings—though I doubt you’ll want to."
"Uh," Nolan stamred. "I didn’t... I an, I don’t even..."
"It’s all thanks to that little device of yours," Duldor said, smiling like a proud uncle. "And let’s not forget your student. That Calien boy? The creature he killed—alongside the two that the Black Vale Knights dispatched—have all been sent to your residence for personal study. We figured you’d want to continue investigating. Or dismantling. Or... doing whatever it is you do."
Nolan stared at him.
"The creatures?" he echoed. "You an they’re at my house?!"
"Correct," Duldor nodded. "We sent them ahead with a preservation team. They’ve been bound in temporal ice casings to prevent decay, but I’m sure you’ll want to—"
"Wait wait wait, scrolls—what scrolls are these again?" Nolan asked hurriedly, eyes flitting from one docunt to the next like they were live grenades.
"Your faculty contract," Duldor lifted one scroll.
"Your residency deed," he added, lifting another.
"And your noble title confirmation," he said with a flourish, lifting the third like a magician presenting the finale.
Nolan stared.
Then, from sowhere to the side, a familiar voice piped up with razor-sharp smugness.
"Oooohhh," Lirazel purred, materializing next to him with arms crossed. "Would you look at that. A whole estate. Creatures delivered. A noble title. I guess so people get everything served to them while completely ignoring my advice to burn the nest to the ground."
Nolan winced.
She hovered slightly, just behind his shoulder. "You know what’s in that house, right? Because I do."
"Not now," Nolan muttered under his breath.
"Oh, no, now is exactly the right ti," Lirazel hissed, eyes narrowing. "They sent the spawns to your house. Spawns that regenerate. Spawns that—surprise surprise—can’t be frozen forever."
Nolan’s eyes widened, pupils shrinking.
His head snapped toward Duldor. "I, uh, I really appreciate all this, but I—I gotta go."
"Hm?" Duldor blinked. "You haven’t even signed—"
Without another word, Nolan shoved the scrolls and the heavy key into Duldor’s hands, offered a rushed "Thanksbye," and darted out the door like a man who realized he left his oven on with a demon inside.
Old Duldor would just flick his eyes in surprise, "Oh well..." he exclaid. Then he turned around and left too.
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