The tent was dimly lit by a single crystal lamp, its glow soft and uneven, casting shifting shadows along the canvas walls. The night outside was eerily still — no rustling leaves, no chorus of vibrant forest life. The silence pressed heavily from all directions, a reminder of the once-living sanctuary that now lay dead and grey beyond the tent flaps. The faint scent of ash still lingered in the air, mixing with exhaustion and grief.

Inside, Luca, Vincent, Sylthara, and Elowen stood together in a small circle. Their faces were lit enough to show the weight each of them carried, yet darkness clung stubbornly to the corners of the room, mirroring the uncertainty that wrapped itself around every thought.

The tension held like a breath too long. Then Elowen exhaled shakily — the first to break the silence.

"To be honest…" Her voice wavered, brittle and tired. "I am not even sure what to do now."

Her gaze dropped, fingers curling into her own arms as though holding herself together. "After everything that has happened over the past few days… I still cannot believe that this… this has happened to the Elven Forest." Her voice cracked, grief staining every syllable.

Vincent, standing close beside her, gently placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. The gesture was simple, human — yet it meant more in a moment when everything familiar to them was gone.

Luca's eyes shifted to Sylthara, hopeful she might have thought ahead despite her own loss. She met his gaze with unwavering seriousness.

"I have already pledged alliance with you," she stated firmly. "Whatever you say, we will follow."

Both Vincent and Elowen looked at her, confused, searching between her and Luca for answers they truly didn't have.

Luca ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Yeah, I know that happened. But it doesn't mean you're my slaves or something. You shouldn't follow every order just because I said so." His voice softened. "I'm just glad we're not enemies… that we can fight against the darkness together."

Sylthara's expression stiffened — pride and loyalty tangled in her features. "No. I pledged on my race and on the Mother Tree. You cannot dismiss it so casually."

Luca sighed again, more defeated than irritated. He turned to Elowen.

"Shouldn't you at least have thought of a place to move?"

Elowen's head fell slightly, as though the question itself carried weight she wasn't ready to bear. "I… really don't know what to do," she admitted. "I wasn't involved in politics. None of us were. We stayed in our own land — we never needed to worry about outsiders." She paused, shaking her head slowly. "So now… I don't know who can be trusted. The Valdros Kingdom? Those merchants would sell even their own kin if the deal was profitable. The Holy Kingdom… I don't know their situation anymore. And the dwarves are as closed-off as always."

Silence returned — thick, suffocating, and painful.

Sylthara stood quietly, lacking the worldly knowledge Elowen spoke of. Her fists clenched at her sides in helpless frustration.

Then Vincent inhaled and spoke — careful yet determined.

"If… you don't mind," he offered, "what about moving into Valentine territory? We have plenty of land. It's peaceful — the people are kind. And after everything… I think that's what the elves need most."

Luca's eyes widened with realization — and hope. He nodded. "Yes. That could work. I'm sure Father won't object. And if you're going to start anew… our land might be the best option. It's quiet, far from prying eyes. A fresh beginning." He turned to Sylthara instinctively. "What do you think?"

Without hesitation, Sylthara nodded her head. "Anything you say."

Luca blinked — wrong person to seek independent judgment from. His gaze shifted instead to Elowen, who was thinking deeply, weighing every unseen risk.

"It's… not a bad idea," she murmured. "But… will it truly be alright?"

Both Luca and Vincent nodded firmly.

Elowen chewed her lip, uncertainty still lingering. "But your territory falls under the Astravia Empire, right? Wouldn't you need permission from the Empress to relocate an entire race there?"

The question struck like a clean cut — and silence fell again as both men stiffened.

Vincent looked away. Luca coughed, attempting to recover with a thin, forced smile. "Ah. Don't worry about it. I'll handle the matter with Her Majesty."

Everyone stared at him.

Vincent raised an eyebrow, suspicion practically etched into his forehead. "Handle… how, exactly?"

"I can handle it, okay?" Luca insisted, waving both hands as if pushing away their doubts. "Just trust me."

No one seemed convinced… but they nodded anyway. They needed hope — and Luca had at least offered a direction.

slowly — each soul drained and weary — they stepped out into the cold, silent night and separated, returning to their own tents for what little rest they could steal.

The future was uncertain. But at least… it had a path now.

Luca slipped into his tent, the soft bed of leaves beneath him rustling as he lay down. He closed his eyes, but his heart wouldn't settle. Every time he tried to relax, his body twisted, his mind replaying the horror of the day — the screams, the ashes, the silence of a world that once thrived.

Two hours passed in restless misery.

Finally, he gave up.

He pushed himself up and stepped outside, letting the night air wash over him. The horizon was drowned in darkness — not peaceful darkness, but a grim, suffocating one. He stared into it, jaw tight.

This shouldn't have happened…

The thought gnawed at him.

I realized in the pressure of the Fourth Demon General just how powerless I am. Killing a few cultists… winning some battles… making a name for myself at the academy… I let it get to my head.

I thought I was prepared. But I still have a long way to go.

His reflection was abruptly interrupted by a familiar voice behind him.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

He turned to see Aurelia and Kyle approaching, both in simple sleepwear, fatigue evident in their faces. They joined him at his side, wordlessly sharing the same heavy silence.

"What about you?" Luca asked as they both shook heads.

Aurelia looked down at her hands before speaking, her voice unusually quiet. "I knew the cultists were dangerous. But… I never truly took them seriously. The Heroes defeated them before — I thought it would be just like history repeating itself." Her grip tightened. "I kept focusing on my personal goals, thinking the cult could be dealt with someday… eventually." She swallowed. "But seeing this… I hate how naive I was."

Kyle exhaled sharply, staring at the barren horizon. "All my life, I was the best… or at least near the top. Spearmanship, strategy, anything. And when I got to the academy, I finally met people who could stand beside me — or above me." His eyes slid toward Luca. "Especially you and Aiden, Luca. Competing with you felt… exhilarating. It gave my life a new kick , new fire."

He paused.

"But today… seeing an ancient race who has lived for millions of years lose everything in moments… seeing a monster laugh while tearing down a civilization older than history…" His fists shook. "It makes me wonder… what am I really competing for? What good is this tiny rivalry in front of that kind of evil?"

As the silence pressed again. And…

Footsteps again — softer this time.

Selena and Lilliane emerged from the shadows, drawn to the same sleepless pain.

Selena crossed her arms, her voice steady but eyes glistening. "We all came here on this trip with Luca with different reasons… different selfish goals. But now… we've seen the truth. We know what's waiting in the darkness. What's coming." She looked at each of them. "Like it or not, with all the different motives , we now share a single purpose."

Lilliane stepped forward, her voice trembling but resolute.

"T-the end of the Devil Cultists. T-this setback… we won't forget it. B-but we also won't be crushed by it."

The wind brushed past them — cold, stark, and empty. But for the first time since the tragedy, there was a spark of warmth among them. A fragile unity.

Luca looked at each of their faces — faces that were once carefree, driven by academy rivalries and personal ambitions. Now they stood here — scarred, awakened, determined.

And he felt something new inside his chest.

Pride… and responsibility.

"We will rise," Luca said, his voice strong despite the tremor in his heart. "Rise high enough to tear away the curtain of darkness covering this world."

One by one, they nodded.

Not as students. Not as nobles. But as comrades.

Luca glanced at them again — Aurelia's fire, Kyle's iron will, Selena's icy resolve, Lilliane's quiet courage.

Maybe… this loss was necessary, he thought.

Not just for me… but for them as well.

Tonight, grief had carved their weakness into strength.

And together… They would rise.

Eventually, silence reclaimed the night.

One by one, the group parted—exchanging exhausted nods before slipping back toward their tents, hoping that sleep might finally claim them before dawn arrived with more burdens.

Luca lingered for a moment longer, letting the cold breeze sting against his face. Only when he could no longer feel his fingers did he turn and head inside.

The tent felt heavier than before—filled with the weight of everything unsaid, everything lost. He sat down, letting his legs finally give way beneath him.

But the moment he leaned back to rest—

A faint but distinct pulse throbbed from his storage ring.

Dum—dum.

Luca frozen, who could be calling this time?

Another pulse. Brighter.

He reached in, fingers brushing against a familiar smooth, cold surface. He drew the small, gleaming crystal into the open—

—its core swirling with a deep crimson light.

His breath caught.

"...It can't be."

The crimson grew brighter, flaring like a heartbeat.

"This mark…" he whispered.

This wasn't a routine call. There was only one person in the Empire who used this particular inscription—

Her voice could shake entire nations. And her command could change the fate of empires.

Luca swallowed hard, gripping the crystal as if it might slip from his hand.

"Her Majesty…"

He muttered under his breath, both anxious and confused.

A humorless huff left his lips.

"Well, I was planning to talk to her…" he murmured.

But his pulse quickened.

"If she's calling at this hour… what does

she want?"

The crystal pulsed again—

Urgent.

Awaiting his response.

Awaiting the Empress.

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