(POV: Caspian)
Caspian slid his phone back into his pocket, letting out a soft breath.
The map on his screen confird it — he was about 150 kiloters southwest of the academy.
Close enough that he could make it back by night... if he moved fast.
The nearest bullet train station wasn’t far — maybe a thirty-minute walk.
He could reach the academy by 11:00 pm.
The streets were empty this late.
The kind of silence you only heard outside city limits.
The occasional rustle of wind through trees.
A car engine humming faintly in the distance.
Caspian walked steadily, hands in his coat pockets.
He didn’t rush.
The conversation with Kist replayed in fragnts — certain words sticking heavier than others.
Be sharp in the A-Rank mission.
A simple warning... but one that ant a hundred different things.
The A-Rank mission wasn’t just so academy achievent.
It was sothing else — a stage maybe.
And from how Kist spoke, it wasn’t only unknown monsters waiting on the other side.
"I’ll keep my head down... but I’ll be ready."
Not the kind of ready that ant charging in with everything he had.
No.
He’d watch.
Learn.
Move when it mattered.
And then there was also one more thing.
The dark elent training Kist offered him.
At least ten to fifteen days... and only during the holidays.
Dark elent wasn’t sothing you awakened by chance.
It wasn’t power you earned by fighting harder or training longer.
It was a choice.
A dangerous one.
’I’ll take it, as it supports my bloodline,’
He didn’t have the luxury of hesitating anymore.
But sothing didn’t sit right.
Kist...
He spoke with confidence — like he understood everything happening in the world.
Outlings.
The infiltration.
The manipulation behind missions and politics.
It all sounded like a clean narrative.
Enemies hiding in plain sight.
Secret wars behind the scenes.
But Caspian knew stories.
And nothing was ever that simple.
"He’s... only partly right."
The Outlings weren’t the root.
They weren’t the endga.
Kist never ntioned the gods.
The old gods — the ones sealed away long before even the fourth Epoch fell.
The ones forgotten by history.
Caspian frowned slightly, eyes tracing the faint glow of street lamps ahead.
"There’s not just one god who was ruling this world..."
’There were more,’
He rembered enough from the novel to know that.
But even that knowledge felt incomplete.
Sothing deeper lay beneath it all.
Why did people stop ascending to godhood?
Not once in the novel did it explain.
Only hints.
Only shadows between the lines.
But one thing stood clear in his mory.
Seven or eight years from now — Lyrius would awaken 2 of them which are alive.
He would find the ancient artifacts... the Hornifics.
The keys to freeing the sealed gods.
And it would all start in the Ruined Continent.
Caspian slowed his steps as the station lights ca into view.
A train horn echoed faintly in the distance — a low, haunting sound against the silent sky.
What kind of curse can hold back a god...
He didn’t know yet.
Not the answer.
Not the reason.
But it wasn’t sothing Kist talked about.
And that alone told Caspian enough.
"He knows part of the truth... and I know another."
For now... that was enough.
He’d survive the A-Rank mission.
He’d stay out of sight.
He’d take the dark elent classes when the ti ca.
And when the pieces started to fall into place...
He’d be ready.
Caspian adjusted the strap of his bag and walked toward the station gate.
No rush.
No panic.
Just a long road ahead.
And a storm waiting on the other side.
....
The gates of the Central Academy had never been this crowded.
Hundreds of students packed the square in front of the Administration Tower — the heart of the Academy.
Banners.
Placards.
Magic holograms projecting phrases into the air.
"WHERE IS OUR COMRADE?"
"NO MORE SILENCE!"
"STUDENTS, NOT PAWNS!"
Voices layered over voices — so shouting, so chanting, so just standing silent but present.
It wasn’t chaos.
It was sothing worse for the academy.
Order.
A controlled, deliberate protest.
And at the front... sitting calmly on the cold marble stairs of the Admin Tower — arms resting on his knees, green eyes fixed on the sealed front doors — sat Zareth El’Leather.
The New Head of the Student Council.
The strongest third-year.
The one student even so professors hesitated to cross.
Vynesaa stood a few steps behind him, her arms crossed, eyes scanning the growing crowd.
Sephina edged closer to her side, voice low but sharp.
"Is this... really the right way?"
Vynesaa didn’t answer at first.
Her eyes locked on the academy crest engraved above the door — a golden shield split by a sword and a quill.
"If we don’t pressure them now..." Vynesaa said quietly, "...they’ll take this lightly."
Her gaze flicked toward Sephina.
"And we’ll never know what happened to Caspian."
Sephina opened her mouth — then closed it.
She understood.
This wasn’t just a missing student case.
They all saw it.
The black-cloaked man.
The sheer power.
The way Caspian was snatched like a puppet... in front of their eyes.
And the academy?
They issued no statent.
No reassurance.
Instead... lockdown.
Surveillance.
A quiet hush trying to smother the panic.
Reporters hovered at the outer gates — forbidden from entering, but catching every angle they could.
Live broadcasts ran all over the Central Continent.
"Breaking News — Student-Led Protest at Central Academy: The Silence Over Caspian’s Disappearance."
Noble houses started sending inquiries.
So soft.
So not.
"Where is the boy?"
"How could this happen inside the Academy walls?"
"If your security fails, how can we trust you with our children?"
The Academy was cornered.
And they knew it.
Vynesaa’s hand tightened into a fist.
This wasn’t a ga anymore.
Fianna stood a little apart from the others, arms wrapped around herself.
The scene outside blurred at the edges of her thoughts.
All she could hear was that sound — the sound of Caspian’s body hitting the ground...
And the mont she froze.
He was right in front of ...
And I couldn’t move.
Not a step.
Not a word.
"I bowed to myself... I said I’d never let this happen again."
And yet here I am...
Again.
Watching.
Helpless.
Vynesaa turned, eyes narrowing slightly as she noticed Fianna standing apart.
She didn’t say anything.
She understood.
Sotis words didn’t help.
Zareth remained seated at the front, unmoving.
Behind him, the students waited — silent but loud in presence.
Inside the tower, the academy council moved hurriedly.
etings.
Ergency protocols.
Summons sent to every known search division.
"We have to find him. Now."
The political pressure had cracked the Academy’s mask.
And it wasn’t about justice.
It wasn’t even about Caspian.
It was survival — of the Academy’s reputation... and their grip on power.
The stand had begun.
But nobody knew how long the storm would hold.
Or...
What it would cost.
Reviews
All reviews (0)