The days following the consumed gate incident passed with deceptive calm. Kaen's team resumed classes, though nothing felt ordinary anymore. Word had spread of the A+ rank gate that simply "vanished," leaving no trace. Officially, the Academy blamed it on a rift instability, but those closest to the event—Zian, Lirien, and a few others—knew better.
And yet, no one questioned Kaen. Not out of fear—but respect mixed with a growing, inexplicable awe.
Inside the Academy's Archive Hall, Rin hovered over a glowing projection of leyline patterns, frowning.
"The more we seal gates, the more unstable the mana threads get," she muttered. "It's not natural. It's like something is stitching open holes from the outside."
"Or inside," Selene added, standing beside her. "Depends on whether the world is reacting… or being forced to react."
Meanwhile, Kaen sat silently near the balcony overlooking the courtyard. The breeze swept through his black coat. His crimson eyes were fixed on the horizon—not just physically, but mentally as well.
He already knew what the others were only beginning to guess: something had returned. Not just gods. Not just angels. But truths buried by the world itself. Truths only the god remembered. And only Kaen understood.
Down below, Zian trained in the shade, her shadow soldiers mimicking her movements. She caught Kaen's gaze for a moment—her expression unreadable, yet her heartbeat felt different. Quieter around him. Warmer.
In the combat dome, Lirien watched Kaen's silhouette from afar. Her fingers rested lightly against her chest. The bond they shared—the pact born not just of magic, but intimacy—still pulsed faintly. She could feel his emotions clearer now. And it scared her how calm he always was. How much he carried without saying a word.
Later that evening, the team gathered for a briefing.
Lirien stood at the center. "A disturbance was recorded off the coast. A faint rip—smaller than a gate, but older than our instruments can read. The Academy is sending us to investigate."
Mira raised an eyebrow. "So, another suicide mission?"
"Let's just say," Kyel added, "we're getting used to being the cleanup crew."
Kaen stood. "Let's go. Whatever it is, it's calling."
From far away, in a place without time, the white crow tilted its head.
And beneath the white tree's roots, something deep pulsed once—then fell still again.