Madam Ophelia, the Supervisor of the freshman dormitory, is a gentle person in many ways.
She always has a warm smile and doesn't raise her voice, carrying herself with that kind of soft patience usually reserved for kindergarten teachers and saints.
She's also beautiful—rich blonde hair, graceful figure—basically the kind of person who makes students think, "Wow, the academy really does spoil us."
But here's the kicker: she's not just a pretty face. The title 'Madam' isn't some honorific you slap on a kind woman—it's because she's an actual Knight on active duty.
For rookies like us, that's basically seeing someone who sits at the top of the food chain. A 5th Rank minimum requirement? Yeah, that's about five leagues above anything I can currently swing a stick at.
"Is everyone here—?"
You wouldn't guess any of that, though. She talks so softly it's like honey dripping in your ears.
With a wry smile, I trailed after her. Honestly, the whole group of us freshmen following behind her looked less like aspiring warriors and more like a line of ducklings waddling after Mama Duck.
Right now, we were climbing the highest point in Caldwell Academy—Grande Hill. From here you could see almost everything worth seeing: dorms, training grounds, lecture halls… the whole academic buffet.
"It's the dormitory. I think everyone is familiar with where it is, right? The facilities used by each department are different—over there is the physical training hall mainly used by the School of Knights, while that tower there is the magic training hall used by the School of Magic…"
Her voice was calm, guiding, patient.
Meanwhile, me? I'd already done this tour before—in another life, with another role. So this whole explanation was déjà vu with extra steps.
Caldwell's curriculum is divided into five Schools, each representing a different field.
Knights. Magic. Utility. Crafting. Theology.
Pick one, ruin your sleep schedule with it, and congratulations—you're now on the road to lifelong trauma.
This setup isn't unique to Caldwell either. The Holy Land and the Tribal Union both run on the same system.
Freshmen, starting from the welcome party in a few days, get to pick their majors and minors. Yes, even the so-called "main character." Spoiler: it's about as glamorous as picking the lesser evil in a dungeon full of monsters.
'… Actually, calling these "Schools" is underselling it.'
They might wear the title, but each "School" here is basically a city-state. They've got their own facilities, guards, and egos the size of continents. True to Caldwell's reputation as one of the top academies, the budget and land these places eat up is ridiculous.
The same goes for the Holy Land and Tribal Union, of course.
Caldwell Academy. The Great Temple. The Fighting Furnace.
Together they form the so-called Golden Triangle of education. Which is just a fancy way of saying "the three places where you'll either graduate a genius or die trying."
'And, that's that.'
While Madam Ophelia continued her patient tour-guide routine, I quietly checked the items stuffed in my bag.
One incense burner, check. Materials to light it, check. A few extra… let's call them offerings, check.
This whole "field trip" event happens right after the entrance exam. For most people, it's a cheerful introduction to campus life. For me? It's the perfect excuse to slip in a few things the Academy definitely didn't put in the brochure.
"Uhm, is that the famous Void Zone over there?"
Oh, bless you, random freshman. Always nice when someone else asks the dumb-but-necessary questions for me.
Ophelia's smile faltered. For a woman who could probably cut down a troll before breakfast, that was saying something.
Her gaze followed the pointing finger, landing on the massive gray orb in the distance. Even from here, the thing oozed menace. You didn't need to be a mage to feel the skin-prickling dread bleeding off it.
"That is true, but— that is a restricted area. You'll be in big trouble if you go there—"
Yeah, "big trouble" is an understatement. Try "instant death or permanent nightmare fuel."
From here, the dome-shaped monstrosity squatted right in the center of the three academies, like some cosmic tumor. A massive spire jutted out of its heart, clawing at the sky.
Madam Ophelia was being polite. The Void Zone wasn't just restricted—it was the scar of history itself.
A remnant of the Great God-Devil War. The nastiest, bloodiest war ever carved into mortal memory.
This was the place where the messenger of God and the hero who inherited his power fought their last, bloody showdown against the devil— and somehow managed to seal it.
Hundreds of years have crawled by since then, but the aftermath is still here. The divine and demonic energies that collided don't fade, don't weaken, don't move on. They just sit there, humming like a broken lantern, waiting to fry anyone dumb enough to get close.
Go near it, and you die. No roll of the dice, no dramatic survival scene. Just death. Even the strong only get the privilege of dying slower.
'…Figures.'
And that's the real reason the Golden Triangle exists. Not because "education unites the world," not because of "mutual cultural exchange," but because somebody needed three academies worth of glorified babysitters to keep an eye on this nightmare egg.
After the Great God-Devil War, the Empire, the Holy Land, and the Tribal Union signed the "Great Treaty." Buried in the fine print: each nation must cough up manpower to guard the Void Zone forever.
And forever is still ticking. Hundreds of years later, the devil remains sealed thanks to the corpses of heroes past. If it ever gets out, though, this place will be Ground Zero for hell's grand reopening.
That's why Caldwell is crawling with scary-good staff. Their real job isn't teaching. That's just their side hustle to keep from going crazy while standing watch.
"…"
Of course, in the main scenario, this seal doesn't last. Which means I'm basically strolling past the world's biggest red flag with a school ID card and a snack bag.
I feel dirty just thinking about it.
"Isn't it a famous place from myths? Can we go closer and take a look?"
"Uh-um—"
A couple of students were practically glowing with curiosity, like moths begging to touch the flame. Madam Ophelia, ever the soft-hearted knight, bit her lip and scratched her cheek.
I sighed and casually adjusted my backpack. Of course she was going to cave. This is exactly why players gave her the nickname Mommy. She just can't say no.
"Then, shall we go as far as Seraph-nim's protection allows—? It's safe as long as we're inside—"
Yep. Called it.
●
Another name for the messenger of God in mythology is angel.
When the devil awoke and chaos spilled into the world, angels descended alongside, granting blessings and knowledge to humankind.
Their power wasn't just symbolic— it's said an angel could boil seas, overturn mountains, and make kings kneel with a single gesture.
Among them, the Seraphs. A title reserved for only the most exceptional. In human terms, they sit somewhere between demigod and natural disaster.
"Then we'll have lunch around here—"
Yes, right here. Within sight of the Void Zone. And strangely, it's safe— thanks to one of those Seraphs.
The protective barrier they left behind is strong enough that students can casually unpack their lunchboxes within walking distance of a place where even legendary warriors would collapse in seconds.
The light from the barrier shimmers softly in the air, pale clusters drifting like fireflies. The sight pulled gasps of admiration from the group. It's hard not to be impressed— the glow feels warm, protective, even beautiful.
Settling down with their food, one of the students raised a hand, curiosity sparking in their voice.
"Oh, I heard that priests often visit this area. This is one of the few places where we can study the power of angels, right?"
"That's right—?" Madam Ophelia replied gently, her voice carrying that same unshakable calm.