The Academy's Watchers were a peculiar sort of legend.
They were retired instructors who no longer taught classes, yet never truly left the Academy. Some took on the role of guardians for remote campuses and frontier bases, watching over students and territory alike. Others simply wandered between outposts, appearing wherever trouble brewed.
Most had not broken through to the high realms of Rank 7 and above, but they lingered at the brink—just-behind peak Rank 6. That narrow border was still enough to make them some of the most dangerous people under the Academy's banner. They were the Radiant Academy's core pillars; the kind of people who could flatten small armies, yet complained about back pain.
The one sitting at the end of the table in the lodge's dining hall fit the image perfectly.
A large-bellied old man with a broad, weathered face and a beard like a tangled white bush, he laughed loud enough to make nearby patrons look over.
"A Lumis and an Ashford!" he boomed. "That pairing is almost as rare as Blight in the Dawn Forest."
Amber stepped forward without hesitation, cloak swaying behind her. Even in simple travel clothes, her posture was effortlessly regal.
"Greetings, Watcher of the Dawn Forest," she said, placing a hand over her chest. "I am Amber Lumis, daughter of Prince Gallian. This is Valentine Ashford, son of Roderick Ashford."
"The Prince of the South and the Ashfords of the Southwest," the old man chuckled. "Old blood, old stories." His bright, sharp eyes lingered on Amber, then moved to Valen. "Did you know, girl, that your grandmother was an Ashford as well?"
Valen didn't know how to feel about that.
The old mage beckoned to the empty seats. "Come, sit. These promising sprouts from our Radiant Academy were just attacked by Dark Guild rats in the swamp. Did you two highborns also cross paths with trouble?"
Amber glanced at Valen once, then lied with the ease of long practice. "No, Watcher. We did not meet any attackers."
Her tone did not waver; even the small tightening of her fingers around her cloak was hidden by the table.
Her etiquette teacher earned that salary, Valen thought.
"Good, good," the old man nodded. "Less paperwork for me." He grinned. "You children may call me Mage Thorne."
"Yes, Mage Thorne," Amber replied.
Amber and Valen took seats opposite Raylan, Marcus, and Elara. The three looked cleaned up but worn, their bandages fresh, their movements cautious.
The table held only simple food: wooden bowls of rock crab stew and thick slices of coarse bread. Only Mage Thorne had a large platter to himself—a roasted swamp toad leg drenched in sauce, the meat glistening with fat.
"These Dark Guilds…" Thorne shook his head and tore off a huge piece of toad meat. "Every year, we post missions to scour them out of the Dawn Forest. Every year, they scuttle back into some other hole. Like ticks in an old mattress. The forest is large, and vermin love deep folds."
He chewed noisily, then pointed the bone at the group.
"Courage is good. Idiocy is not. There is a time for daring and a time for caution. Remember that. The greatest victory in life is living longer than your enemies."
Valen caught the eye of the middle-aged serving woman and raised two fingers slightly. She nodded and soon brought two more bowls of stew and bread. The aroma of shellfish and herbs did its best to fight the ever-present swamp stink that seeped through the stone walls.
The meal was plain but hot. Valen ate in calm, unhurried motions, watching the others as much as he watched his bowl.
Elara's eyes kept drifting toward the door as if expecting more danger to walk in. Marcus held his spoon with white-knuckled fingers; his shoulders were stiff with the effort of pretending he was fine. Raylan sat between them, gaze steady, jaw set—trying to be their anchor.
Elara finally spoke, voice low. "Should we go back?"
"We should at least check out the Worm Cave," Raylan said. "We could join another party. A stronger one."
Marcus shook his head sharply. "After what happened last time? Anyone could be a Dark Guild plant. We walk into the wrong group, and they cut our throats in our sleep."
Mage Thorne snorted. "Wise caution, boy. That is exactly the problem. Dark Guild members nest inside legitimate teams like parasites. For your attackers in the marsh, I have already issued a mission to hunt and execute them. Someone will take it. Greed always answers when coin is posted."
Amber's gaze slid to Valen, listening.
"We will stay close to the Outpost," Valen said, his voice even. "We are hunting Blight traces only in the surroundings. We will not go deeper into the Eastern Sector. If we find nothing after five days, we withdraw."
The serving woman arrived with their stew then, placing the bowls carefully. The steam rose, carrying the smell of crab and salt.
Thorne laughed. "Good. That is the kind of prudence that lets the Ashfords hold parts of the Stormland while other lords lose their teeth."
He turned his attention back to Raylan's trio. "You three came to explore the labyrinth, did you not? I assume you have heard the rumours about a new area uncovered on the third level."
Raylan and the others nodded, but Amber and Valen, hearing this for the first time, stilled subtly.
New section of the labyrinth? Valen thought. Of course. These events pop up when the protagonists are in the area.
Thorne leaned back on his bench, the wood protesting under his weight.
"The Worm Cave is an old beast," he said. "Endless tunnels and caverns, twisting like intestines under this forest. Scholars argue about how it formed, but most agree the giant ants were involved." He waved his bone lazily. "Still, we divide it into five rough levels for convenience."
His eyes swept the table, as if checking whether anyone intended to rush headfirst below.
"Entry into the fourth and fifth levels is forbidden for those below Rank 4. Even then, large parties of Rank 4 and above rarely venture down. Only when the filth accumulates too much do the Empire's forces send high-rankers—Rank 7 and above—to cleanse the depths. Efficient work, in and out."
"The first three levels are enough trouble," he continued. "Undead. Worms. Ants large as wolves. A scattering of Blight, and all manner of other creatures in small numbers. The newly uncovered area lies on the second level—far enough that children like you have no business there."
Elara, who had been listening with tightened lips, cleared her throat.
"Mage Thorne," she asked, voice subdued, "is the news about… a Chaos Heir appearing in that new area true?"
Amber and Valen exchanged a glance. The term struck like a pebble into still water.
Chaos Heir, Valen thought, mind sharpening. So the story thread appears here.
Thorne's eyes crinkled as he looked at Elara. "Oh? So you little ones have heard that term. But our highborn friends look surprised."
He chuckled. "That is fine. Let an old man talk, then."
He set down his bone and folded his hands on the table.
"Wherever there is Blight, there is a chance—small, but real—that a corrupted monster will pass down the Chaos Heir bloodline," he said. "Unlike ordinary bloodlines like your Lumis Eye, girl, or the Ashford lightning veins, which awakens rarely, the Chaos Heir bloodline does not follow neat family trees."
He glanced at Amber and Valen in turn.
"Do you know how bloodlines are normally formed?" he asked.
They shook their heads, almost in unison.
"It is simple enough," Thorne said. "When a mage or warrior reaches the high ranks, their most polished spell or technique can sometimes be passed down to their children. The more they drilled that power through their life, the stronger the chance."
Raylan frowned. "If it is simple, why are there so few true bloodline families?"
"Because the world is crueler than theory," Thorne replied with a bark of laughter. "Once you climb high enough—Rank 7 and beyond—the world rejects the notion of you passing down your bloodline. It becomes very difficult to have children. So, if you aspire to leave your mark, have a few before then."
The trio all looked mildly embarrassed. Amber's ears turned slightly pink. Even Marcus, still pale from blood loss, coughed into his stew.
Thorne cackled, clearly pleased with their reactions.
"Now, by the same logic, powerful Blights—those above Rank 7—should be able to pass down the Chaos Heir bloodline," he went on. "But there are layers to Chaos just as there are realms of cultivation. Even lesser Blights, if they manage to reproduce, have a small chance to pass on a basic version of that bloodline," he paused for dramatics. "And the best part is you can also gain this bloodline unlike others."
He tapped his temple. "This lesser inheritance will make you immune to Chaos Energy. It lets you store Chaos in your core and mix it with your spells. You become like an ordinary Blight in function… but you keep your mind."
Amber's brows drew together faintly. Valen felt the air around the table grow more focused.
Valen's gaze slid briefly to Raylan.
The original protagonist summons and merges Mana Cores from alternate selves, he recalled. A direct interaction with divergent timelines. That is beyond simple storage. A higher version of Chaos Heir perhaps… but the story never named it that. The author only described it as a golden finger with lifespan cost.
He sipped his stew, mind moving.
He uses life force as fuel. Could Chaos Energy replace that cost? Or was his technique always a function of higher-grade Chaos Inheritance?
Thorne continued, unaware of Valen's quiet calculations.
"As for the rumour," the old mage said, "there is talk of a monster in the new area wielding Chaos Heir bloodline powers. Some claim it has shown intelligence and its attacks are laden with Chaos Energy."
He shrugged.
"But rumours are like rats. For every one you see, ten others are hiding. Perhaps it is true. Perhaps it is another Dark Guild trick to lure greed-fattened fools into a trap. They have used similar tales before."
His gaze hardened, just for a moment.
"Whatever the truth, talk like that draws unfriendly eyes. Chaos Heirs, even the false ones, attract the worst kind of hunters," he said. "So, stay away from it. Inside the labyrinth, might decides everything."
He turned to Raylan's trio.
"You three may join forces with our highborn friends here and explore the surroundings near the Worm Outpost, maybe check out the first level of the labyrinth if curiosity is nagging you," Thorne said.
Party with the main character, Valen thought dryly. My life was already at risk from two kilometers away. Travelling at his side will likely invite quicker death.
He opened his mouth to decline.
"Yes," Amber said at once, smiling. "You may come with us."
Valen closed his mouth again.
Traitor, he thought at her, without heat.
"Master, please be careful," Iris whispered timidly in his mind. Her tiny maid form appeared at the edge of his vision, wringing ghostly hands.
Valen picked up his spoon again. It seems inevitability has a sense of humour. He took another sip of stew.
Mage Thorne leaned back. "Say, young ones," he drawled, "have any of you seen a Convergence with your own eyes?"
They looked at one another. No one answered.
"No?" Thorne nodded, unsurprised. "Then tell me this: what do you think magic is?"
Elara frowned. "I… do not understand the question."
"That is the correct answer," Thorne said at once. "Confusion is the only honest stance. Those who believe they understand magic fully are the ones who understand nothing."
Valen watched him, noting the faint light behind the old man's eyes.
Amber sat straighter, paying respectful attention. The others looked mostly lost, but they listened, which was enough.
Old people enjoyed handing out lessons like this. Whether the students understood them rarely mattered in the moment.
After they finished their modest meal, Amber and Valen exchanged farewells and returned to their rooms on the upper floor.
For Amber, the day's trials ended there.
For Valen, the night was just beginning.
He closed the door, engaged the simple latch, and sat cross-legged on his narrow bed. His backpack lay open beside him, a small pile of crystals catching the lamplight.
He picked up the newly acquired Soul Crystal—the one recovered from the skeleton.
He had already told Amber he would keep this one. She could have the bulk of ordinary Mana Crystals they harvested; this, however, was more useful as another set of eyes and hands.
"Begin when ready, Master," Iris said, appearing in his vision with a serious expression.
Following the same procedure as before, Valen relaxed his mental barriers in a carefully controlled pattern, allowing Iris's presence to extend fully through his soulscape.
The Soul Crystal pulsed with faint inner light.
An echo of a dead warrior's will stirred within—but it never had a chance to rise.
Iris's metallic constructs manifested in the mindscape like a familiar tide, countless glassy tentacles seizing the intruding consciousness. The invading soul struggled briefly before being reduced to orderly fragments and absorbed.
"I have taken control," Iris reported. "Mana Core liberated. New ghost extension forming."
A translucent, bluish figure slowly took shape in Valen's inner perception—a new soul controlled by Iris.
"The soul contained the Ice Breath spell and several physical strengthening patterns," Iris summarized. "None exceed your current repertoire in efficiency or power."
"That is fine," Valen said. "Quantity has its own quality. More eyes. More scouts."
He had not done this for fresh spells. What he wanted were more extensions of Iris.
He set the now-destroyed Soul Crystal aside and picked up another object.
The Chaos Crystal.
It sat in his palm like a piece of congealed night, its depths quietly wrong. Even the air around it felt slightly colder.
"Master," Iris said softly, "we should not attempt full integration with this inside the Outpost."
"Your assessment?" Valen asked.
"Unknown risk category," she replied. "If the Chaos reacts violently, it may trigger Soul-disturbance or uncontrolled mana phenomena. In a confined structure with multiple mages present, any anomaly will draw attention."
"In other words, if something explodes, we cannot pretend it was someone else," Valen said.
"Correct."
"Outside, then," he murmured. "When we are alone."
He wrapped the Chaos Crystal carefully and returned it to his pack.
The night passed in quiet rest afterward. His body, buoyed by mana circulation and Self Restoration, needed less sleep than most. His mind, however, appreciated even a few hours of dozing stillness.
Morning came with gray light seeping past the shutters and the distant murmur of the Outpost waking: shouted orders, the clatter of armor, the creak of carts.
Valen and Amber descended to the dining hall after a quick round of cleaning spells and simple breakfast bread in their rooms. The common room was less crowded than the previous evening. Most parties had already departed for the forest or the Cave entrance.
They found Elara sitting alone at the same table as last night, a bowl before her. She was stirring absentmindedly more than eating. Her rapier and bow leaned against the wall within arm's reach.
"Where are your friends?" Amber asked, taking the seat beside her.
"They are still getting ready," Elara said with a sigh. "I had to shake Marcus awake and threaten to pour cold water on Raylan. Boys."
A faint smile tugged at Amber's lips. "I had to wake a certain Ashford more than once as well"
Valen sat opposite them, folding his hands lightly on the table. "Mornings were never my thing."
Elara blinked, then huffed a small laugh. Some of the tightness in her features eased.
"At least he admits it," she said. "Raylan would have insisted it was part of some training regime."
"That is because he is a loser," Amber said dryly.
Elara's brow furrowed. "The… what?"
"Never mind," Amber said quickly.
They were still trading small jabs when the mood in the room shifted.
The door swung open with more force than necessary, banging lightly against the wall. A small group of students stepped in, cloaks still damp with morning mist, boots clean—which meant they had not yet gone anywhere dangerous today.
They carried themselves with the easy arrogance of those unused to being refused.
At their head walked a young man around their age, tall and broad-shouldered, with dark brown hair tied back in a warrior's tail. His cloak bore an embroidered mountain peak in silver thread—a sigil that tugged at Valen's memory.
Mountain peak… that is the crest of House Karst, he recalled. Dukes of the northwest mountains. Old blood, iron mines, and stone fortresses.
The young man's gaze swept the room once and locked onto Elara.
He smiled.
He crossed the floor as if he were entering a hall in his own estate. His party fanned out behind him: two robed mages in muted colors, three armored warriors, and a slender swordswoman with her hair in a tight braid. Their gear was new, but not fresh—used enough to suggest at least some real combat.
"Elara Montclair," the young man said, stopping at the table. "So it is true. You came to the Dawn Forest after all."
Elara stiffened. Her hand moved slightly closer to her rapier.
"Kale Karst," she said. "I see the mountains sent their heir to play in swamps."
So that was his name.
Kale's smile widened, entirely unbothered. "Frontier work is the best place to temper steel. My father always said: if a man cannot stand the stench of a swamp, he does not deserve the wind of a mountain."
His eyes flicked briefly to Amber, then to Valen, weighing and discarding faster than politeness required. They lingered longer on Amber's features and the Lumis crest on her mantle.
"Your father should also have said that a man ought to mind his manners," Amber said, voice mild. "Staring at a lady like a merchant measuring a horse is not one."
Kale blinked once, then laughed. "Lumis wit. I have always wanted to see it up close. Thankfully there are more than one in the Academy."
He bowed—not deeply, but enough to be technically proper. "Kale Karst, of the Northern March. It is an honour, Princess."
Amber gave him a cool nod and said nothing more.
Kale turned his attention back to Elara, as if the others no longer mattered.
"We are forming an expedition to the second level today," he said. "Eight in our group already. We have a Rank 2 shield-bearer and a healer. Join us. You will be safer with us than with…" His gaze slid momentarily to the staircase where Raylan and Marcus had yet to appear. "…your current arrangement."
Elara's lips thinned.
Valen watched her, noting the small shifts: the way her shoulders straightened, the way her jaw clenched, how her grip on the spoon loosened rather than tightened.
She was angry, but not surprised.
Even Valen was not surprised, protagonists have to deal with such events regularly.
"Your concern is noted," she said. "We already have a party."
Kale's tone cooled a fraction. "I saw your party yesterday," he said. "Saw what crawled back to the Outpost. Two half-dead boys and one girl who kept them from collapsing. You are good with both the rapier and the bow, Elara. Better than most in that rabble at the Academy. It would be a waste to die following some fool's delusions."
"Raylan is not a fool," Elara said quietly.
Amber's eyes glinted. Valen remained still.
"Is he not?" Kale asked. "I read the mission listings. A Rank 1 party planning to visit the third level of the labyrinth. Either foolish or arrogant."
"We survived," Elara said.
"By luck," Kale replied.
He extended a hand towards her. "Come with us. I will speak to the Watcher if you like. No one will question your decision."
Silence sat between them for a heartbeat.
Valen's attention shifted to the doorway.
Right on cue, Raylan and Marcus appeared at the top of the stairs, descending with weapons belted and faces still shadowed by sleep and lingering pain. They froze halfway down when they saw Kale standing at their table.
Marcus's expression soured instantly. Raylan's eyes narrowed, wary but controlled.
Ah, Valen thought. So this has been going on while I was holed up in the tower library.
"Kale," Raylan said as he reached the floor. "You are early."
"Discipline does that," Kale said. "It wakes a man before the sun. Unlike some."
He gestured at Elara without looking away from Raylan. "I offered her a place in a proper party. One with prospects. I thought she would be relieved."
Raylan's jaw tightened, but his voice stayed level. "She already has a party."
"She has dead weight," Kale said flatly. "Look at yourself. Already limping, and you want to drag others deeper into the Cave?"
Elara pushed back her chair and stood.
Kale smiled, confident.
"I—" she began.
"We decline," Elara said.
Kale's smile faltered. "You have not heard the details—"
"I have heard enough," Elara said.
Amber's lips curved, only slightly. Marcus's shoulders eased a fraction.
Kale's eyes hardened.
"Stubborn," he said softly.
He looked at Raylan again, and there was something like challenge there. "Then I hope you can keep up your courage."
He stepped back, flicking his cloak over one shoulder.
"When you change your mind," he added, "we will be below you. Try not to die before you reach us."
Kale turned and strode away. His followers cast mixed glances back—curiosity, disdain, faint pity—before trailing after him. The door swung shut behind them.
The tension at the table loosened like a drawn bow finally released.
"Are you sure?" Raylan asked quietly, looking at Elara. "He was not wrong about the danger. Joining a larger group would be safer."
"Safer for me, perhaps," Elara said. "Not for you."
She met his gaze steadily. "We entered this forest as three. I will not leave as one."
Raylan's hand curled slowly into a fist, then relaxed. "Then we will simply have to get strong enough that people like him are the ones reconsidering their choices."
Marcus snorted. "Just say you want to punch his face one day."
Raylan allowed himself a faint smile. "That too."
Amber's eyes flickered between them, thoughtful.
Valen watched quietly, the pieces clicking into place.
This is what the story looks like from the inside, he thought. Pride, loyalty, rival nobles, invitations refused, promises made in dingy outpost inns.
"Then let us make proper use of the day," Valen said, rising. "We have Blight to hunt near the Outpost. The sooner we are back before nightfall, the better."
Raylan looked at him, measuring.
"Agreed," he said.
They gathered their gear and stepped out into the gray morning together.