District Magistrate’s Office – Blackridge
District Magistrate Raset had just leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes. Another long eting with greedy guild owners had drained the last bit of patience he had left. His job wasn’t easy—managing the city, responding to dungeon breaks, handling the damn damage reports that followed—and always keeping an eye on the guilds who tried to claim dungeon spoils like vultures.
So when his office door swung open without warning, he nearly snapped.
"Can you knock before entering!?" he growled, glaring at his assistant.
The secretary froze at the threshold, flinching slightly. "S-sorry, sir. It’s urgent."
"It always is," Raset muttered under his breath, reaching for his cup of cold coffee. "What is it now?"
"The students from Etherlight Academy of Awakeners are here. Their nas are... Dravis Morningstar and Ezra Celestrian."
Raset didn’t react at first. Etherlight was famous, sure, but students from elite academies visited often. Blackridge was a dungeon hotspot, after all—an ideal place for field training.
But then the na Morningstar hit him.
He jolted upright, spilling a bit of coffee on his desk.
"What the hell? Why didn’t you lead with that?! How long have they been waiting!?"
"They arrived just after your eting with the guild leaders, sir. I was—"
"Enough. Bring them in. Now. And tell soone to get pastries. And coffee—fresh coffee. And maybe... sothing sweet. Sothing expensive."
The secretary nodded and hurried out of the room.
Raset sat back, exhaling hard. For the first ti in years, he felt like a feudal lord whose territory was suddenly being inspected by the emperor’s family. He shook his head.
"He’s just a kid," he muttered to himself. "How dangerous can he be?"
But even as he said it, the na Morningstar echoed in his mind.
Blackridge High – Sector 4
Marcus stood outside the gates of Blackridge High No. 4, hands in his pockets, staring at the old tal sign bolted above the arch.
"Been a while since I stood in front of a school," he muttered. "Kind of nostalgic."
"Mm," Evelyne humd beside him. "Feels like a lifeti ago."
In the Human Federation, every child was enrolled in school by age ten. If they awakened their mana core, they were fast-tracked into specialized training—funded by noble houses, the High Council, or powerful guilds. For many, school wasn’t just a place to learn—it was survival.
Marcus exhaled slowly. Feels like everything was simpler back then.
Evelyne nudged him gently. "Co on. Let’s go."
The gates creaked as they stepped forward. The school was officially closed, only open to club mbers. A guard stepped forward imdiately, holding a wooden baton—not a mana weapon, just standard enforcent gear.
"Stop. State your purpose," the guard said firmly.
Marcus nodded respectfully. "We’re here to inquire about a staff mber. Just need to ask a few questions."
"Nas and IDs," the guard said.
They were led into a small guard booth. Inside, another man with a register took their ID cards, checked them against the database, then handed them a pen to log their nas and reason for entry. Once done, the guard waved them through.
As they stepped into the empty school grounds, Marcus looked around.
The place was mostly quiet—no classes in session, just a few scattered students still present for club activities. So were training with swords. Others practiced footwork or control magic.
"Let’s split up," Marcus said. "Faster that way."
Evelyne gave a short nod. "Alright. We’ll et back here in twenty."
Marcus veered left into one of the side courtyards. His eyes scanned the grounds until he saw a student practicing spell formations on her own. He approached, trying to keep his voice casual.
"Hey, sorry to interrupt. Can I ask you sothing?"
The girl didn’t turn. She was focused on a hovering glyph, her fingers moving with precise rhythm.
"...What?" she snapped, clearly annoyed at being disturbed.
Marcus scratched his head, smiling awkwardly. Great. One of those days.
He held out his phone and showed her the image of Elia. "I’m looking for this woman. Do you know if she works here? Maybe as a teacher?"
Without even looking at the photo, the girl shot back, "Don’t bother . I don’t know her."
Then she returned to her spell, clearly not caring.
Marcus sighed and turned away. What a waste of ti.
He continued asking around. So students glanced at the photo and shook their heads. A few didn’t even look and just said no.
By the ti he reached the end of the training hall, he was done. Nothing. Not even a maybe.
He tapped into the group channel.
Marcus: "No sign of her. School 4 is a dead end."
ssages pinged in quickly.
Dalen: "Sa here. Blackridge High 1 turned up nothing."
Lyria: "No trace of here too.
Marcus rubbed his temple. Two schools down. Eight more to go. At this rate...
He ssaged Ezra.
Marcus: "Any luck on your end?"
No reply.
The silence made sothing in Marcus twist.
He turned to Evelyne, who was returning from the other side of the school.
"Let’s move to the next one," he said.
She nodded. "Still no sign?"
"No. And Ezra’s not answering."
They walked back toward the front gate, quiet now. The early confidence had started to fade.
Marcus glanced at the school sign one more ti as they left.
This is taking too long.
—————————-
The Magistrate’s Office was quiet when the doors opened again.
Two figures walked in—one composed, the other slightly more casual. Both young, but sothing in the way they carried themselves made the guards stand a little straighter.
Magistrate Raset stood up as Dravis Morningstar and Ezra Celestrian entered his office. His posture shifted instantly, not to intimidation, but to a careful form of respect—asured, practiced.
"Welco, honored guests," Raset said with a warm smile. "It’s not every day the grandson of the Fist Emperor visits my humble district."
Dravis didn’t respond. He gave a short nod, polite but distant. He hated this—the weight of his family na opening doors before he could even speak.
Raset turned to Ezra next. "And you must be Ezra Celestrian. Your na carries weight in certain circles as well. Though, I suppose it’s not the na that matters—it’s the reputation."
Ezra offered a small nod. "Thank you for eting us on short notice."
Raset gestured to the velvet-cushioned seats in front of his desk. "Please, sit. I had coffee and pastries brought in. I hope the sweets et your standards."
"We’re not here for refreshnts," Dravis said coolly.
Raset chuckled lightly, unfazed. "Ah, the Morningstars—still as direct as ever."
Ezra subtly stepped in. "We’re currently on an Etherlight mission regarding tracking this person. We were hoping your office could assist."
Dravis didn’t speak, but Ezra could feel his tension. His jaw was tight, hands folded too neatly on his lap. He only used his family na when necessary—and even then, with reluctance.
Ezra reached into his coat and pulled out his mana phone. With a few taps, he brought up the image of the girl—Elia Seraphine—and passed it across the table.
"We’re looking for this woman," Ezra said. "Her na may be Elia. Possibly using an alias. We tracked her last location to this district."
Raset took the device and stared at the photo, eyes narrowing.
For a mont, he didn’t say anything.
Then he turned to his desk terminal. A chanical hum sounded as he reached for a flat scanning pad attached to the side of his desk. He carefully placed the phone face-down over the pad. Soft blue light glowed beneath the device, scanning the image and converting it into digital data.
The computer chirped. A smooth, slightly synthetic voice spoke:
[Facial recognition initiated. Cross-referencing public and restricted citizen registries. Please wait.]
Raset leaned back. "It’ll take a minute. This system covers our local registry, but it’s also tied to regional migration records. Very useful when soone wants to disappear."
Ezra and Dravis waited in silence. The tension was thick. Dravis tapped his fingers against his knee, restless.
Ezra glanced at him. "You alright?"
Dravis didn’t look at him. "Fine."
Ezra knew better, but didn’t press.
Finally, the computer chid.
[One potential match found. Facial similarity: 52%. Registry entry under the na: leria Malloren. Title: Certified Magic Instructor – Blackridge high 7. ID Code: 7-ZM47-A.]
Raset frowned. "Only fifty-two percent. Could be an error. Or... could be magic at play."
He tapped a few keys, and a digital file opened on his screen. With a flick of his fingers, he transferred the file directly to Ezra and Dravis’s mana devices.
"You should have it now," he said.
Ezra’s phone vibrated. He opened the file imdiately. A passport-style image loaded—a woman, hair tied back, no makeup, wearing a teaching uniform. She looked older. Subtler features. But... the eyes.
It wasn’t Elia. Not completely.
But it was close enough to make his stomach twist.
"Her na’s not Elia..." Ezra muttered. "Leira Malloren?"
Dravis was already scanning the docunt. "Says here she registered only a few months ago. No family, no guild affiliations. Cleared background check. Mana rank unknown—only marked as ’Level-Sensitive.’ That’s not standard."
Raset folded his hands. "When soone’s file has a mana rank blacked out by the system, it usually ans one of two things. One—classified by a higher authority. Two—altered. Falsified."
Ezra scrolled further. A teacher at Blackridge Awakener Institute—one of the eight schools they hadn’t checked yet.
But then he reached the final page of the docunt.
And he stopped breathing.
A tistamped log. Security footage request.
"Request submitted by Guild of Crimson Shield—three weeks ago. Reason: Suspected witness in unauthorized dungeon activity."
Ezra’s brows furrowed. "What’s this about a guild trying to track her?"
Raset narrowed his eyes. "That part I wasn’t aware of. I’ve had trouble with Crimson Shield before... they’ve been poking around where they don’t belong."
Ezra stood. "Thank you, Magistrate. You’ve given us exactly what we needed."
As they reached the door, Raset offered a faint smile.
"If she really is a threat... I’m just glad I could be of help."
Ezra gave a polite nod. "You’ve done more than enough. Thank you."
They stepped out of the office, the door clicking shut behind them.
The hallway was quiet, the noise of the main floor muffled by thick walls. As they walked side by side, Ezra glanced at Dravis with a sideways smirk.
"You know," he said under his breath, "I think he kind of liked you."
Dravis sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Yeah," he muttered. "That’s exactly the problem."
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