Professor Vaelem leaned over Leo, who lay on the infirmary bed, his hands glowing faintly with healing magic.
Vaelem’s eyes narrowed, scanning Leo’s body. "You know," he muttered, voice filled with disbelief, "I was shocked at your healing factor. I Thought you’d need months to recover fully, but three days? Not a single scratch on you, kid." He sighed, the glow fading as he stepped back. "Checkup done. Energy levels are back to normal. You’re a freak of nature."
Isolde, standing nearby, tilted her head. "Can you walk, Leonhardt?"
Leo sat up, rolling his shoulders. "I’m fine. Completely." He swung his legs off the bed, standing with a slight wobble.
Liana stepped forward, silently helping him slip into a shirt.
As Leo adjusted the collar, Gidon’s voice rumbled, "You three kids did one hell of a job saving most of the students. But you three took the worst injuries. You were in rough shape, maybe worse than the others, but those two? Their healing is slower compared to you."
They stepped out of the infirmary, guiding Leo through the academy’s hallways. The academy was silent, not like usual. Leo’s brow furrowed as he glanced around, the emptiness gnawing at him.
"Just tell what happened to the two," he said, his voice cutting through the quiet.
"That girl, Rin Valarune?" Isolde’s expression softened. "She’s not in life-threatening danger, but she needs rest. Her injuries will take at least three weeks to heal, even with a top healer working on her."
"Where is she now?" He asked, his tone sharp.
Vaelem adjusted his glasses. "She’s been shifted to her family’s house for better care. The academy granted a three-week leave for all students after the... terrorist attack."
Leo nodded slowly, the pieces clicking into place. That explained the silence—no students, no chaos. Just echoes of what happened. "And my brother? What about Lucian" he asked, his voice quieter now.
The group fell silent, their footsteps the only sound in the hollow corridor. Gidon’s massive shoulders slumped slightly. "Lucian woke up three days ago," he said, his voice low. "Returned to your ho yesterday."
Leo’s eyes narrowed, catching the hesitation in their faces. "Is sothing wrong?"
Liana glanced away, her voice barely above a whisper. "Young Master Lucian... his leg’s broken. The healers are trying, but it’s healing slowly. He won’t walk properly for at least two months."
Leo stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze drifting to the academy forest visible through the hallway. The trees swayed gently in the breeze.
He stood there, the weight of it all pressing down on him, but a small, tired smile tugged at his lips. "At least he’s alive," he muttered, the words carried away by the wind. "That’s good then."
Leo sighed, his breath barely audible as he continued walking with the professors, their footsteps echoing in the silent halls. "Did you guys catch who did all this?" he asked, glancing at Gidon.
Gidon nodded, his expression grim. "Professor Avoor and the student council spotted three suspects. They killed two and captured one. We’re interrogating the survivor using... our own thods."
Leo’s eyes flicked to Isolde. "Any info spilled yet?"
She shook her head, lips tight. "Nothing so far."
They reached their destination: the principal’s office. Leo paused, turning to Liana. "Wait here," he said softly. She nodded, stepping back as the door creaked open. Inside, Leo’s gaze swept the room.
Professor Avoor, with his distinctive orange hair, stood rigidly. Principal Veymoor, an old man with a weathered face, sat on a couch. Across from him was a tough-looking man in his fifties, clad in a dark indigo overcoat adorned with the silver insignia of the Crown’s Internal Affairs Division.
The man rose as Leo entered, his sharp eyes locking onto him. "So, you’re Leonhardt Caulem? The useless son of Duke Alric?" His lips curled into a mocking smile.
Leo returned a calm, confident grin. "Right, I am Leonhardt Caulem, first son of Duke Alric Caulem—and the one who made this peaceful eting possible. Without , I reckon the kingdom would be in far worse chaos." His tone was steady, unflinching.
The man let out a dry chuckle, his gaze narrowing. "The rumors about you... they paint a very different picture from what I’m seeing now."
"Rumors are made to fool people," Leo replied smoothly. "And I don’t think you’re a fool, Sir Serion Halcrest." He’d already pieced it together—this was the Royal Investigator of the Crown’s Internal Affairs Division, a Knight-Adjudicator of the Third Circle. The man matched every description Leonhardt had heard. He was here to investigate the terrorism as this academy involves nobles.
Serion raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Not bad, kid. Alright, shall we get to why you’re here?" He gestured to a chair.
Leo sat, the four professors standing behind him. Veymoor and Serion took their seats across from each other, both watching Leo intently. Serion leaned forward. "Leonhardt, tell exactly what happened in the forest after you entered."
Leo exhaled, his mind replaying the chaos. "I was assigned to volunteer for the first-years’ hunting event. Took my group into the forest. Everything was fine until a do appeared out of nowhere, trapping us. Monsters started attacking—relentless, non stop. I did what I could to protect my group, keep them alive. Then I sensed... sothing. A strong energy. It led to the demon. I fought him. Took everything I had."
Veymoor sighed, his aged voice heavy. "You know about the hunting cage, don’t you, Leonhardt?"
Leo nodded. "Yeah, soone explained it. It traps everyone inside, using a target as the center. Doesn’t close until the target dies."
"Correct," Veymoor said. "But to select the target, they need sothing personal—sothing that belongs to them."
Serion’s gaze sharpened. "Do you know who the target of the hunting cage was?"
Leo frowned. "Who was it?"
Professor Avoor stepped forward, his face grim. He placed a small vial on the table, containing a few strands of red hair. "We found this at the ritual site," he said quietly.
Leo’s blood stared at the vial. His hand instinctively touched his own red hair, the realization hitting.
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