Zephyr moved through the ruins alone.
He had already pushed the research work onto his lackeys.
Wandering through ruins writing some boring research wasn't his thing.
Suddenly, he heard an explosion.
And soon after then, a few robed figures lunged at him from the shadows.
His eyes flashed with excitement.
Finally, something exciting.
But the excitement died as fast as it came.
The enemies were pathetic.
Initiate Rank—barely worth his time.
With just a few punches, their heads burst like overripe melons. He didn't even break a sweat.
Then—a pendant he always wore glowed in red light.
A soft but urgent light pulsed from the charm on his neck.
A linked artifact. Its twin rested with his fiancée—Aurelia.
They'd been childhood friends once. Now, they were bound by political marriage.
He didn't like his engagement with her.
He didn't hate her. In fact, he cared. She was one of the most important people in his life.
But he didn't know if it was love. And he sure as hell didn't want to force a relationship built on duty.
Still—this pendant was his gift to her. And it had one rule:
If it glows, she's in danger.
It could teleport him to her location once a day—if within a certain range.
He didn't think twice and activated it.
He appeared in a clearing.
A robed cultist flinched at his sudden arrival.
Zephyr sensed the power radiating from him—Apprentice Rank. Beginner stage.
His eyes passed the enemy and locked onto the blue-haired girl behind him.
She was kneeling. Her body was bloodied and injured.
His blood boiled. His fists clenched.
She had closed her eyes as if ready to die.
"Whatever will you do without me?" he muttered to himself. The same words he used to tease her years ago.
But right now, he didn't feel like laughing.
With his anger, his power surged. His ability was activated instinctively.
Dark scales appeared across his body, black like obsidian and glowing with golden veins.
His golden eyes glowed with cold fury.
"Step away," he said, voice low and cold. "She's not yours to touch."
The cultist hesitated, sensing danger.
"Who the hell are you?"
Zephyr took a step forward.
He reappeared before the cultist mid-sentence.
His fist, cloaked in his golden aura. They drove straight into the cultist's gut with a dull, echoing crunch.
The man flew back, slamming into a half-broken pillar.
Zephyr didn't even look satisfied.
There was only a single minor realm difference between them. Still, it would've been difficult for someone normal.
Apprentice should have had the edge.
But Zephyr wasn't normal.
Before the cultist could get up, he moved again.
The cultist summoned a barrier. He was desperate now.
Zephyr's eyes flashed, scanning the shield. In an instant he saw it—the weak point.
Mid-kick, he shifted his angle.
His foot connected with the vulnerable spot.
The barrier shattered like glass.
The rest of the fight, or should we call it a massacre, didn't last long.
Zephyr killed the cultist.
After that he turned around and walked towards the girl who had been looking at the scene in awe.
"Tch…find some good friends." Only with those words, he turned to leave.
Before Aurelia could even say anything he vanished from her sight.
Or at least he acted like leaving while he hid some distance away.
He wasn't going to let her roam alone within the area, roaming with so many cultists.
But he was too prideful to accept. So he decided to safeguard her from a distance until all this was over.
She really can't do anything without me.
Atop a crumbling rooftop, a figure sat casually, munching on popcorn.
A white smiley mask covered his face.
"Man, these cultists are such a drag." A distorted voice came out. "Can't even defeat some kids."
"What was the name of the cult again?" They asked. Nobody else was present there to answer their question.
"The Drowned Pact". Another distorted voice answered out of thin air.
"What was the Disciple of Greed even thinking, handing out missions to low-level trash?" The white masked individual muttered.
"They must've been planning something." The voice responded to his question again.
The masked figure leaned back, arms crossed.
"Still, what the hell is that weakling disciple of greed doing in the human domain anyway?" The white-masked figure was confused.
"It doesn't concern us," the voice said. "Don't waste brain cells on it."
The masked figure sighed. "Nothing worth watching anymore. Seems the attack's coming to an end."
"The higher-ranked cultists are pulling out."
A white mist began swirling around him.
As it consumed his figure, he spoke once more.
And then—he vanished.
In the centre of the ancient ruins, where the main camp post was situated.
An intense battle was ongoing.
Sorin was locked in combat with a robed figure radiating equal strength.
His expressions were grim.
They had been ambushed by an unknown cult.
Many dead bodies lay scattered across the camp—students and staff.
Despite his best efforts, he hadn't been able to save them all.
The academy staff were kept busy by Master-ranked cultists, while the weaker ones targeted the students.
From what he had heard, they were looking for Princess Amyra.
The attack had begun an hour ago with some loud explosions.
Cultists had surged up from underground.
Worse—some of the Association staff had betrayed them.
All communications had been jammed inside the ruins.
Sorin had already sent a lower-ranked assistant professor to contact the principal.
But he didn't know how long they could hold on.
Then—a sharp whistle cut through the air.
Without a word, they began retreating. The higher-ranked among them activated strange artifacts and vanished one by one.
Before Sorin could catch any of them, the Master Rank cultists were gone.
Only low-ranked ones remained.
Sorin looked at the dead bodies of students.
So many young lives, gone before they could even begin... and all I could do was survive to remember them.