The academy looked different at night.

  Lanterns lined the stone pathways, their light soft and amber, casting long shadows that stretched like fingers across the courtyard. The academic buildings stood quiet, windows dark, their daytime noise replaced by a deep, attentive silence.

  Kaoru walked through the gates with steady steps, her patrol cloak resting lightly over her uniform. The cool night air brushed against her cheeks as she adjusted the strap of her sword.

  Before starting her route, she turned toward the student council room.

  The corridor leading to it was dim, lit only by a single lantern at the end. The door stood closed.

  Kaoru raised her hand and knocked.

  “Come in,” came the familiar voice.

  Kaoru opened the door.

  Inside, Miyazuki Ashen sat at her desk, amber hair tied back loosely, amber eyes dulled by exhaustion. Stacks of documents surrounded her like walls. Some were neatly arranged; others looked like they had been read, rewritten, and reviewed too many times.

  Kaoru frowned. “President… are you alright?”

  Miyazuki glanced up and smiled faintly. “I will be.”

  “You’ve been doing paperwork nonstop for three days,” Kaoru said, closing the door behind her. “You haven’t even left this room.”

  Miyazuki set her pen down and leaned back slightly. “The Ashveil situation is… almost over. Once it’s done, I’ll take a break.”

  Kaoru stepped closer. “Almost?”

  Miyazuki nodded. “Last night, the main criminal syndicate responsible for producing Ashveil was eradicated.”

  Kaoru blinked. “Eradicated…?”

  “Yes,” Miyazuki said calmly. “Every confirmed member. Their boss as well.”

  Kaoru’s eyes widened. “By the royal knights?”

  Miyazuki hesitated for half a second. “No. By a mysterious individual.”

  Silence settled between them.

  Kaoru exhaled slowly. “That’s… terrifying.”

  “And relieving,” Miyazuki added. “Ashveil production has taken a massive blow.”

  Kaoru placed her hands on the edge of the desk. “Then please—take a short break. You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

  Miyazuki looked at her for a long moment.

  “You’re kind,” she said softly. “But even if the syndicate is gone, that doesn’t mean the distribution will stop immediately.”

  Kaoru frowned. “Because of stockpiles?”

  “And copycats,” Miyazuki said. “Ashveil already exists in circulation. People who tasted its power won’t simply let go.”

  Kaoru nodded slowly. “So this isn’t the end.”

  “No,” Miyazuki said. “But it is a turning point.”

  She picked up another document, then paused and sighed.

  “…You’re right, though. I should rest. Even a little.”

  Kaoru smiled faintly. “Good. I’ll finish my patrol and report anything unusual.”

  Miyazuki nodded. “Be careful.”

  Kaoru turned to leave, then paused. “President?”

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  “Yes?”

  “…Thank you. For carrying this alone.”

  Miyazuki’s expression softened. “That’s why I have a vice president.”

  Kaoru left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Elsewhere — The Death Contractor

  In a quiet office lit by a single lamp, the Third Royal Captain, known across the kingdom as the Death Contractor, sat at his desk.

  His name was Sevrin Hale.

  Papers covered the surface—incident reports, medical records, casualty lists. His expression was unreadable as his pen moved steadily across the page.

  “Café attack,” he muttered. “Twelve injured. Five confirmed dead.”

  He turned the page.

  “Hokori Nanashi,” he read aloud. “…Body not found.”

  Sevrin leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing.

  “Missing bodies are never coincidence.”

  He closed the file and marked it with a red seal.

  The Cold Ride

  Hooves thundered against dirt and stone as Gideon Falk, the First Royal Captain, led a squad of royal knights through the countryside.

  Moonlight reflected off his armor—heavy, angular plates etched with ancient runes, each one representing a bloodline that once ruled through conquest and war.

  “Storage facility ahead,” a knight called out.

  Gideon raised a fist. The squad slowed and dismounted.

  The building stood alone among trees—low, reinforced, guarded.

  Gideon drew his sword.

  “Raid protocol,” he said calmly. “Anyone who resists—kill them.”

  “Yes, Captain!”

  They moved.

  The doors were kicked in with explosive force.

  “Royal Knights!” a guard shouted. “Drop your weapons!”

  Some complied.

  Others didn’t.

  Steel clashed.

  Gideon stepped forward as bullets and blades flew. He closed his eyes briefly.

  Bloodline Conqueror.

  Power surged through him.

  The cold came first.

  Ice spread from his boots, freezing the ground beneath him. A flick of his wrist formed a spear of ice that pierced through two enemies instantly.

  Another attacker charged—

  Gideon’s strength multiplied. He caught the man by the throat and slammed him into the wall, stone cracking on impact.

  Weapons formed in Gideon’s hands—an axe, then a hammer, then a blade—each one forged from shimmering energy and ancestral will.

  The leader of the facility emerged, wielding a heavy cleaver. “You think you can—”

  Gideon didn’t let him finish.

  He summoned a greatsword of ice and steel and brought it down in a single, devastating arc.

  The man fell, split cleanly.

  Silence followed.

  “Secure the Ashveil,” Gideon ordered. “Burn the rest.”

  “Yes, Captain!”

  Gideon stood amidst the frozen blood and shattered crates, exhaling slowly as the ancestral power faded.

  Another nest destroyed.

  But the war wasn’t over.

  Far from it.