The next morning, the students returned to the classroom in a heavy atmosphere, still marked by the debates of the day before. The issue of discrimination against other races remained at the center of everyone's attention. Some students, still shocked or outraged, fixed the teacher with a hard stare. Others, resigned or simply curious, listened despite their unease, aware that this chapter of history shaped the world they lived in.
That day, Marcou seemed determined to go further, setting aside diplomacy to plunge into the harshness of the facts. In a grave voice, he began a long monologue, his gaze occasionally sweeping over his students as if to gauge their reactions.
"After the goddess Hamnesia decreed that all other races were inferior and must be enslaved, a demon named Eleutheros rose against her. He gathered under his banner all the oppressed races, leading their revolt alongside his most loyal generals. He declared war on the goddess, launching what history books now call The Bloody War."
The class listened in silence, their attention sharp, some students jotting down every word.
Eva raised her hand, curiosity in her eyes:
"These generals… who exactly were they?"
Marcou nodded, as if expecting the question:
"They were each sovereigns among their people, but they renounced their titles to crown Eleutheros king of all races.
—The King of Angels, and second among the generals, Ménos Luminis, known as the Bearer of Light.
— The Dragon King, Orak Den, considered the most powerful dragon of all time, able to make the earth itself tremble: they called him the Supreme Dragon.
— The Queen of the Elves, Camélia Calista, famed for a beauty that rivaled her power.
— Lucas Sanguis, Vampire King, master of every element including one unique to his bloodline: blood itself.
— Dorgos Froze, King of Beasts, a colossal strength that earned him the name Uncontrollable Beast.
— Venus Mortan, Queen of Giants, said to be capable of lifting mountains with her bare hands.
— And finally, the one history branded a traitor: the human hero Mathias Rosenberg, nicknamed the Rainbow Sword.
Beneath these generals were also many captains from various races — less powerful, but formidable nonetheless."
Éléonore, captivated, asked in turn:
"And how long did that war last?"
"Fifteen long years," Marcou replied, his voice darkening. "Fifteen years of unprecedented massacres and destruction. The four great human kingdoms, united under the goddess's banner, then proceeded to summon heroes from other worlds to bolster their armies. The goddess also chose apostles: champions infused with her power, true forces of nature with vitality, strength, and mana far beyond the ordinary. These apostles fought alongside the heroes to crush the rebellion of Eleutheros's allied races."
Maïli, still bristling, asked:
"If those apostles are so powerful, why don't they take care of the dungeons instead of sending us to risk our lives?"
Marcou allowed himself a humorless smile.
"After the sudden appearance of the dungeons, the goddess recalled her apostles."
Emma, intrigued, pressed on: "But why? What reason did she give?"
Marcou set his book down, his voice resonating in the quiet room.
"One of the official reasons given is that the war had severely weakened the goddess and her apostles. But that explanation poorly hides the extent of the tragedy: during that war, some races were nearly wiped out dragons, demons, angels, vampires, and giants, as well as other peoples who never truly recovered. Fifteen years of unrelenting conflict… and at the end of that carnage, victory went to the goddess Hamnesia. The Demon King was executed publicly, along with his generals, in a solemn ceremony meant to seal the peace. Many of the survivors fled in a massive exodus, disappearing to the edges of the continent to escape persecution and the memory of defeat."
The teacher paused, letting a heavy silence settle.
"But only a few years after the end of the war, a new scourge appeared: the dungeons. Their origin remains uncertain, but some scholars suggest they might be a curse, cast upon humanity as revenge for the acts committed during the war. In this situation, the goddess bereft of her apostles offered a new solution: the massive summoning of heroes from other worlds. Through her power, each nation was able to call forth far more heroes than usual."
Maël frowned, intrigued:
"More heroes?"
Marcou nodded.
"Yes. Without the goddess's direct help, it would have been impossible to summon more than a dozen heroes. But with her blessing, that number nearly doubled."
Maverick, ever pragmatic, followed up:
"But why summon so many?"
The teacher fixed him with a serious look.
"First, to gain more powerful heroes not all heroes inherit strong professions. They're certainly stronger than average, but the more heroes you summon, the greater the chances some will receive extraordinary classes. Second, as I said, the goddess withdrew her apostles. Officially, it was from exhaustion, but there may be another, more troubling reason: preparation for a new conflict."
A faint shiver ran through the class, and Maïli couldn't hold back her question:
"You're talking about a new war… What do you mean by that?"
Marcou inhaled slowly.
"A Demon King, according to legend, is born only once every thousand years. But at his execution, the last Demon King uttered a prophecy. He declared: 'One hundred years after my death, a new King will arise. And I pray that he shows you mercy, for if not, your goddess will bear responsibility for tragedies far worse.'"
The students exchanged uneasy glances.
"It's therefore highly likely," Marcou continued, "that you, the heroes, will be called to face this new Demon King when the time comes. There's no telling if it will happen soon… but many believe the other races now scattered or hidden are waiting for this moment to resurface and resume the fight. And they may already be preparing in the shadows, awaiting their hour of revenge."
Jay, pale, breathed:
"So, if I understand correctly, on top of the dungeons, we'll also have to face the arrival of a new Demon King…"
Tension rose another notch, weighing over the class like a dark cloud. Each was slowly realizing that their role in this world might prove far heavier than they had ever imagined.
"Yes, but for now, the priority remains the dungeon threat. It will take years, even for a new Demon King, to grow strong enough to pose a real danger. Besides, many races have vanished, others are barely alive… Rebuilding an army worthy of the name would be difficult, especially now that the five great human nations have never been so powerful."
Marcou closed his book, letting his words settle in each mind.
"All right, class is dismissed for today. I wish you a good day and good training."
The students left the room in silence, some exchanging worried glances, others hurrying off with heavy hearts. On the training field, the tension lingered: everyone knew the future would soon be decided, and the smallest misstep could undo everything.
As the sun began to set, Moïse gathered all the students, his imposing silhouette outlined by the evening light.
"First of all, I want to congratulate you. You've shown tenacity during these long months of preparation. Many of you have progressed even if, for some, it's still not enough," he said neutrally, sweeping the assembly with his gaze.
A few students immediately lowered their eyes, uneasy under Moïse's scrutiny. Then he continued, as implacable as ever:
"You still have a few months to prove yourselves before the final selection. Only the best will earn the title of hero of the Kingdom of Sigma. Those chosen will then face a trial that will determine their future."
Marine, skeptical, dared to raise her hand: "What kind of trial?"
Moïse turned his head, an ambiguous smile on his lips.
"You'll find out in due time. Until then, keep working."
Max, anxious, called out next:
"And… what about those who aren't chosen?"
Moïse's voice grew colder.
"They'll be reassigned to the guard or the army of the kingdom. The rest will simply be expelled from the castle. We can't afford to burden ourselves with useless elements, understand?"
A chill swept through the ranks. Several students stiffened, fear of being left to fend for themselves in this hostile world plain on their faces.
Moïse added, his tone cutting:
"If you don't want to be cast out, prove that you're worth keeping. Be useful."
He walked away, leaving behind a heavy silence.
"What bastards…" Maïli muttered, crossing her arms. "But deep down, we should have expected it. It was clear from the start especially after Logan's expulsion on the very first day. Anyone deemed unfit will be abandoned to their fate."
The day slowly faded to night. But in the shadowed depths beneath the castle, hell never ceased.
In the cold darkness of a cell, a young elf lay on the floor, her body covered with scars and open wounds. The crack of a whip echoed against the walls, accompanied by Raphaël's chilling voice:
"If I hear you scream, I'll beat you until you die."
The torment dragged on for long minutes, the young elf stifling her cries despite the blows. Her blood stained the stone; her torn clothes clung to her battered skin. When he was finally satisfied, he walked away, leaving the girl broken, trembling, half-conscious on the icy floor.
After a few minutes, the cell door opened again, slowly. A figure stepped in without a word and knelt beside her. The young elf felt a gentle hand cleaning her wounds, touching her with a tenderness she hadn't felt in so long.
A cool cloth, a bucket of water. She didn't dare move, both surprised and incredulous. Soon, a warm scent reached her: food. A small steaming bowl and a cup of clear water were set beside her.
Then the door closed and the stranger was gone, without a word, without revealing themselves. The girl stayed still for a moment, then brought the first bite of the hot meal to her lips.
It was good, and it warmed her in that cold, inhospitable cell. Silent tears slid down her flushed cheeks.
"Thank you… thank you…" she whispered.
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