Since the Abductor Virgin had already been destroyed and the teleportation sigil was no longer usable, Lucian decided to leave it at that.
He returned to the outskirts of the Academy and found the Nomadic Merchant and the Bloodhound Knight he had encountered earlier.
Lucian informed them that the Academy had been reclaimed.
All that remained now was to wait for the great lift to be rebuilt. Once it was completed, they would finally be able to leave this place.
After learning that Queen Rennala was safe and unharmed, the Bloodhound Knight visibly relaxed, the tension in his posture easing at last.
As for the Nomadic Merchant, he had already made up his mind to leave the Academy.
He had been trapped here far too long. The confinement had worn on him, and he had no intention of remaining in this place any longer.
Still, he planned to wait until the lift was finished. At the very least, he wanted to take one last look at the inside of the Academy before departing.
After spending so many years here, it would feel like a waste not to.
Lucian had originally intended to leave after delivering the news, but the Nomadic Merchant called out to stop him.
The merchant handed Lucian an item.
It was a rolled-up letter, secured with a feather from some unknown bird.
This kind of letter was commonly sold among the Nomadic Merchants, information traded across the Lands Between. Such documents were often marked with feathers of various colors as identifiers.
But unlike the usual vibrant feathers used to categorize different kinds of intelligence, this letter was marked with a special black feather.
The feather was distinct from any ordinary bird's plumage. It carried a peculiar sheen, its coloration subtly iridescent and unmistakably unusual.
According to the merchant, it came from a bird known as the "Funeral Crow"—a species long extinct.
The Nomadic Merchant explained:
"This was an invitation my kin sent me long ago, asking me to join the Great Caravan in Leyndell, the Royal Capital."
"The letter said that the Golden Order's royal dynasty was prosperous beyond measure. They may look down on us Nomadic folk, those who lack Grace, but it's a fine place to make a fortune."
"So the leader of the Great Caravan called for our people scattered across the Lands Between to bring our wares and gather in Leyndell."
"You understand how it is. We Nomads don't much care about their disdain."
"As long as there are runes to be earned, they can keep their pride."
"I intended to go at the time. But then, well… you know what happened. I ended up trapped inside the Academy."
"Now I've changed my mind. I don't plan on heading there anymore. I'll just wander the Lands Between instead."
"If you want to go, or if you know someone who does, take this with you."
"It's an invitation, after all. Someone should be there to receive you."
Lucian looked at the letter in his hand and hesitated.
He wondered whether he should tell the merchant how much the Lands Between had changed.
This Nomadic Merchant's understanding of the outside world was frozen in time, stuck at the moment the Academy sealed itself off. He had no idea how far the Golden Order's glory had decayed.
After a moment, Lucian shook his head and told him the truth—the story of the Shattering, the devastating war that followed, and the chaos that had engulfed the realm.
If the merchant were to charge blindly into today's perilous Lands Between without knowing any of this, the outcome would almost certainly be grim.
The Nomadic Merchant stood there in stunned silence after hearing it all.
After a long pause, he, too, shook his head, his expression complicated as he looked down at the letter.
"…I thought this might be of some use to you."
"Chances are, our kin in the Great Caravan have already withdrawn from Leyndell by now."
"Looks like it's nothing but scrap paper after all. My apologies."
Lucian waved a hand and kept the letter anyway.
"It's fine. I have a friend, he's one of your people."
"He's very interested in finding the Great Caravan. He's been tracing their trail."
"This letter will surely help him."
The merchant smiled faintly.
"I see. Then I hope he succeeds."
Lucian told them to wait a while longer on the outskirts until the lift was repaired. Then, carrying the letter with him, he departed.
When he returned to the throne room of Stormveil Castle, Lucian took out the letter once more.
The contents were written in the Nomads' cipher. Ordinarily, he would not have been able to decipher a single word.
But during the long days of boredom inside the Academy, the merchant had already translated the code and written the meaning alongside it.
Lucian read through it carefully. There was nothing suspicious about its contents.
The leader of the Great Caravan spoke with heartfelt sincerity, calling upon his scattered kin to gather and seize the opportunity to prosper.
In Lucian's judgment, at the time this letter had been sent, the Great Caravan likely had not yet suffered the massacre.
Queen Marika's purge had specifically targeted the Nomadic Great Caravan within Leyndell. Those Nomads who were not in the Royal Capital had not been subjected to deliberate persecution.
There would have been no reason for entrapment or deception.
Lucian placed the letter on the armrest of the throne and leaned back.
Queen Marika. The Great Caravan. The Frenzied Flame.
Which had come first?
Was it the emergence of the Frenzied Flame that led to Marika's brutal purge?
Or was it Marika's massacre that drove the Nomadic people, in their despair, to summon the Frenzied Flame?
His thoughts turned to Kalé.
Kalé had long spoken of seeking out the Great Caravan, determined to uncover their fate. Another Nomadic Merchant Lucian had met earlier had mentioned encountering him as well. Who knew how far he had gone by now?
To force Kalé to confront such a cruel truth…
Lucian did not think that would be a kind choice.
But Kalé had the right to know.
—
Over the following days, Lucian moved back and forth between Stormveil Castle and the Hogwarts Academy, following through on his plans.
During that time, he successfully mastered numerous gravity sorceries and several incantations drawn from the power of the ancient dragons.
He could now wield ordinary lightning freely, shaping and directing it at will—though compared to his command of the storm, there was still a noticeable gap in finesse and instinct.
The storm answered him like an old companion.
Lightning, however, still required deliberate effort.
As for the ancient dragons' exclusive red lightning, Lucian still had to rely on the formal structure of specific incantations in order to release it.
Perhaps because of his constant practice with lightning, the first advanced gravity sorcery he truly mastered was Gravity Lightning.
Through relentless effort, he had also begun to grasp the most difficult aspect of gravity magic, attraction. Though not yet perfected, he had achieved partial control over it.
And naturally, once he understood attraction, he came to comprehend its opposite pole, repulsion.
—
On this particular day, Lucian was not training with Ozdis or with Selinsax—nor refining incantations under their guidance.
Instead, accompanied by his teacher Sellen and Hethis, he entered a certain classroom within the Academy.
This was the chamber once used by the heads of the various lecture halls to oversee and govern the Academy of Raya Lucaria.
Today, Lucian intended to use a glintstone communication array to establish contact with the Cuckoos.
Lucian and Sellen stood before the long table, while Hethis stepped forward and activated the magic formation engraved upon the glintstone slab, setting it into motion.
After some time, an image from the other side flickered into view.
Appearing before them was a middle-aged man.
He had slightly curly black hair that fell loosely beside his face. The armor he wore was not the standard Cuckoo Knight equipment, but a more individualized set—distinctive, suggesting rank and personal authority among the Cuckoos.
As soon as the connection stabilized, he bowed.
"My greetings to you."
"My name is Merrill."
Lucian gave a slight nod in return.
"You should already know, more or less, what has happened inside the Academy."
"Can you speak on behalf of all of you?"
The man nodded.
"I am the commander of the Cuckoo forces."
"Those old fools within the Academy would never have lifted the seal on their own."
"What happened inside is… self-evident."
Lucian regarded the Cuckoo leader calmly and spoke without preamble.
"In that case, I'll be direct."
"I am Lucian, the Storm King of Stormveil. The Academy of Raya Lucaria now falls under my rule."
"From this day forward, the Academy will be led by my teacher, Sorceress Sellen."
"You may choose to continue cooperating with the Academy and remain stationed in Liurnia."
"However, all your actions will henceforth be subject to my supervision."
"Will you offer me your loyalty—"
"—or face annihilation?"
A faint sheen of sweat formed on Merrill's brow.
For a moment, he hesitated. His eyes flicked subtly to the side, as though seeking confirmation from someone beyond the frame. Only after that pause did he answer.
"Your renown has long reached my ears. I hold it in the highest regard."
"To follow you and build a greater future together would be an honor for the Cuckoos."
Lucian nodded.
The matter was settled.
For now.
Still, the Cuckoos would require careful watching—
—
After Lucian ended the transmission, the man named Merrill exhaled in relief and turned to look beside him.
There, resting within an ornate vessel, was a mass of silver tear—its liquid form pooled quietly inside.
Throughout the entire exchange, he had been speaking under its guidance.
"My lord… what is your judgment?"
The silver tear slowly writhed, ripples spreading across its metallic surface.
Then, from within the vessel, a humanoid form rose—identical in appearance to Merrill.
When it spoke, its voice sounded almost as if it were thinking aloud.
"He has come into contact with the Sacred Chalice…"
Merrill froze.
"…What?"
But the Mimic Tear paid him no mind, continuing its quiet contemplation.
The Silver Tears were extremely sensitive to the origins of their kind.
Even through the projection transmitted by magic, it could clearly sense the distinctive trace left upon Lucian—an imprint of the Mimic Tear's sacred vessel, the Eternal City's Silver Tear Chalice.
Realizing his superior was lost in thought, Merrill quickly fell silent, not daring to interrupt.
After a while, the Mimic Tear finally addressed him.
"Continue playing along with them for now."
"Send more men down into the underground wells. Spare no losses."
"And summon those Fire Monks as well. We must accelerate the progress."
—
On this day, Lucian did not rush back into training.
He had already gained considerable mastery over gravity sorceries and ancient dragon incantations. Aside from a handful of particularly demanding techniques, he could now wield most of them with ease.
Those remaining few would not be learned in merely a day or two.
Moreover, he needed real combat to truly refine and integrate these newly acquired abilities.
There were still a few days before Melina would emerge once more.
So perhaps, while time permitted—
He should investigate what the Finger Reader Crone had once mentioned:
"The death rite in the south."
Previously, the crone had only said "to the south."
But that was an exceedingly vague direction.
It would require careful consideration to determine exactly where she had meant.