The late afternoon sun stretched across the streets of Serenwyn, painting the stone pathways in warm amber light. Their shadows trailed behind them, long and wavering over the cobblestones as they walked side by side. The air had begun to cool, carrying the scent of flowering trees and distant cooking fires drifting from the city below. Around them, students moved through the academy grounds in small groups, voices blending into a low hum that faded in and out with the breeze.
Samantha brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and glanced sideways at him. "So, what perception skill are you thinking of learning?"
Ronan kept his eyes ahead.
"None, actually."
Her steps slowed a fraction.
"None?"
He shook his head.
"Why not?"
Ronan released a slow breath through his nose. The answer sat heavily in his chest. He had avoided this conversation for a while now, circling around it, delaying it. Not because he didn't trust her, but because every time he thought about it, questions rose up that he still couldn't answer himself.
"Remember what happened with my old skill—Keen Eye?"
Samantha's expression shifted immediately. Her brows drew together slightly as she searched his face.
"It got destroyed."
"Yeah."
His voice came quieter than before.
"The clan that created it was wiped out."
The breeze rustled through nearby trees, carrying dry leaves across the stone path.
Ronan stared ahead, eyes unfocused.
"The skill became cursed afterwards. If someone tries to evolve it too far..." His jaw tightened slightly. "...it appears before divine artefacts."
Even saying it felt strange.
"And the divine artefacts destroy it."
His fingers curled unconsciously.
"Sometimes..." He forced out a breath. "Sometimes they kill the user too."
Silence.
The sounds around them suddenly felt more distant.
Samantha had stopped walking entirely.
Ronan looked over.
Her eyes were fixed on him.
"And you're only telling me this now?"
There wasn't anger in her voice exactly.
That somehow made it worse.
He lifted both hands immediately.
"Hey, wait—"
"Ronan."
"No, listen—"
Her stare sharpened.
He laughed awkwardly, though it sounded weak even to his own ears.
"I couldn't just tell everyone I had the source." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Not when I don't even understand why that clan was destroyed."
For a few moments, Samantha said nothing.
She simply looked at him.
Really looked at him.
Ronan suddenly found the stone path beneath his feet very interesting.
Then she let out a slow breath.
"Next time..." she said quietly, "...tell me first."
He blinked.
The sternness in her eyes remained, but underneath it was something softer. Something squeezed unexpectedly at his chest.
Concern.
Simple concern.
He scratched his cheek and grinned sheepishly.
"Alright, alright." He raised a hand in surrender. "I will."
Samantha narrowed her eyes at him.
"You'd better."
Then, after a few moments, her expression eased.
"So..." she asked, "what's your plan now?"
Ronan relaxed slightly.
"I'll build a new perception skill."
"Hm?"
"After I fully analyse Keen Eye's source."
He glanced toward her.
"I don't know how long it'll take." His eyes drifted upward toward the slowly darkening sky. "But I really love skills."
A small smile appeared on his face.
Skills fascinated him.
The way they worked. The patterns beneath them. The hidden structures and possibilities.
Even after everything that had happened, that feeling hadn't disappeared.
"So I'm sticking with that."
Though inwardly, another thought surfaced.
Sir Alden probably already understands the source...
The old man was absurdly knowledgeable. Ronan wouldn't even be surprised at this point.
He looked back at Samantha.
A grin slowly spread across his face.
"And when I finish creating my own perception skill..."
He pointed at her dramatically.
"You'll be the first person to see it."
Samantha stared at him.
One second.
Two seconds.
Then she sighed and shook her head.
A smile tugged at her lips despite herself.
Tap.
She lightly smacked his shoulder.
"I'll be waiting."
Ronan rubbed his shoulder with exaggerated pain.
"Violence. Unbelievable."
"You deserved that."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
Their voices blended with the evening breeze as they continued walking together toward Mindward Tower.
Above Serenwyn, the sky slowly transformed. Gold faded into orange, orange into soft crimson, and at the horizon, deep shades of violet had begun creeping in. The first stars were barely visible overhead.
By the time they reached Mindward Tower, dusk had settled across the academy.
The setting sun bathed the tower's elegant spires in warm light, making the white stone glow as if it held sunlight within itself. The windows reflected streaks of gold and red across the courtyard below, while the cobblestone paths shimmered beneath the fading sky.
Samantha slowed.
"I'll head back to the dorm."
The faint aura of her light element gently shimmered around her in the growing darkness, wrapping her in a soft radiance that made her seem almost unreal beneath the evening sky.
She looked at him.
"Don't stay too long, alright? See you tomorrow morning."
Then she smiled.
"Bye."
Ronan lifted his hand.
"Bye. Be careful on your way back."
Then his eyes narrowed mischievously.
"And hey..." A grin spread across his face. "Don't take candy from strangers."
Samantha paused mid-step.
For a moment, she simply stood there.
Then she slowly turned her head.
"...Seriously?"
Ronan immediately looked innocent.
"What? I'm just concerned."
She stared at him.
Then a laugh escaped her.
Light and familiar.
"I could say the same to you, little brat."
She waved again before turning away.
Ronan watched her go.
Her figure gradually disappeared among the evening crowd moving through the academy grounds, the soft glow around her fading little by little into the growing darkness.
He remained standing there.
For some reason, he couldn't immediately move.
The breeze brushed against his face.
And suddenly—
Memories surfaced.
A younger Samantha is chasing him around the church courtyard.
His own laughter rang through the halls after stealing fruit from the kitchen.
Father Matthias is standing with crossed arms, trying—and failing—to look intimidating.
"Ronan."
"Ronan."
"RONAN!"
He could almost hear the old man's voice.
Back then, he would tease Samantha endlessly. Pull her braids. Hide her things. Run away before she could catch him.
And Father Matthias would always scold him afterwards.
Always.
But even then...
Those days had been warm.
Simple.
No curses.
No divine artefacts.
No hidden dangers waiting beneath every answer.
Just laughter.
Just home.
A small smile touched his lips as he stared at the place where Samantha had disappeared.
"I miss those times," he whispered.
The words drifted quietly into the evening air.
Then he turned toward Mindward Tower and walked on.
Ronan stepped into the Mindward Tower and was greeted by cool stillness. The noise of the academy seemed to vanish the instant the heavy doors closed behind him. The air inside carried the scent of old parchment, polished wood, and faint incense smoke lingering from countless meditation sessions. Dim crystal lamps glowed along the walls, casting soft golden light over towering shelves and glass displays.
The place felt strange—half lecture hall, half forbidden sanctuary.
Ancient tomes rested behind locked crystal panels, their bindings dark with age. Scrolls sealed with enchanted ribbons floated inside transparent cases, runes occasionally pulsing across their surfaces before fading again. Some books even emitted tiny sparks of elemental light, as if resisting confinement.
Near the entrance sat Arnold.
The old man remained cross-legged on a meditation platform, hands resting on his knees, breathing so shallowly that he looked carved from stone. Not even the folds of his robes moved. The silence around him felt unnaturally deep, as though sound itself was avoiding him.
Ronan lowered his head respectfully.
"Good evening, Elder Arnold."
No response.
Not that he expected one.
Ronan bowed anyway before moving away quietly, careful not to let his footsteps echo too loudly against the polished floor.
On the right side of the hall, a middle-aged man stood arranging books that floated around him in slow circles. One by one, they drifted onto shelves before settling into place with soft clicks.
Ronan approached and bowed politely.
"Good evening, sir. I heard there's a lecture on Monster Core Fusion being held tonight. Am I eligible to attend?"
The man glanced at him over his shoulder.
His eyes moved briefly over Ronan's plain clothes, paused on the academy badge pinned near his chest, then returned to the books.
"Good evening," he replied with a small nod. "You're just in time. It hasn't started yet."
A book floated into place behind him.
He gestured toward a desk at the far end of the hall.
"You'll need to register there. I think a few seats are still available."
"Thank you, sir."
Ronan bowed again before making his way across the room.
As he approached the registration desk, his pace slowed slightly.
Behind it sat a narrow-eyed man slouched lazily in his chair, one elbow propped against the table. His expression looked permanently irritated.
The man glanced up.
His eyes landed on Ronan.
Then narrowed further.
"A commoner?" he muttered under his breath with a click of his tongue. "Tch. Thought some noble brat finally showed up..."
The sourness on his face spread immediately.
Ronan felt irritation crawl into his chest.
Again.
He kept his expression neutral.
"Good evening, sir," he said calmly. "Are there any spots left for the lecture?"
Without answering, the man lazily pointed toward a flyer pinned to the desk.
Ronan stared at the finger.
Then, at the man.
His eyebrow twitched slightly.
"..."
He took a slow breath through his nose.
No point.
No point wasting energy here.
"I have the lecture fee."
Light flashed across his storage ring, and a shimmering Rank Four monster core appeared in his palm. Soft elemental energy drifted around it like heat rising from a fire.
The man's face didn't change.
Instead, he casually opened a drawer and pulled out several herbs and minerals before dropping them onto the desk.
Ronan looked down.
Then blinked.
"...Equivalent trade materials?"
His eyes narrowed.
Is he bargaining with me?
The amount wasn't outrageous, but it was obvious what the man was doing.
Testing him.
Or trying to squeeze out extra value.
Ronan slowly exhaled through his nose.
Then another item appeared in his hand.
A crimson herb.
Its leaves shimmered with faint scarlet veins, as though blood flowed beneath the surface.
The effect was immediate.
The man's bored expression disappeared.
His eyes widened.
Then brightened.
Greed practically leaked from them.
"Oh?" His posture straightened instantly. "Well now..."
His hand moved far faster than before.
The herb vanished from Ronan's hand along with the other materials.
A pen appeared next.
"Name? Tier? Elemental Affinity?"
Ronan stared at him for a moment.
Interesting.
His attitude changed faster than the weather.
"Ronan. Adept Tier Five. Single affinity—Flame."
Scratch scratch scratch—
The man scribbled onto a wooden token before casually tossing it across the desk.
"Take it."
Ronan caught it easily.
"Go through the door behind me. Once you enter, you can't leave until the lecture ends."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"If you leave, you won't be allowed back in."
Ronan slid the token into his hand.
"Thank you."
This time, he didn't bow.
Not even slightly.
The man noticed.
Ronan could tell.
Good.
He walked past without another word.
The wooden door creaked open.
On the other side stood a younger man in academic robes.
The attendant took the token and gave a polite nod.
"This way."
Ronan followed him deeper into the lecture hall.
Rows of students sat in curved seating arrangements descending toward a central podium. Quiet conversations drifted through the room like buzzing insects.
As Ronan passed by, a few eyes followed him.
Some curious.
Some dismissive.
Some are simply bored.
Near the front sat Serenya Aldercrest.
Elegant posture.
Perfectly composed.
Her silver eyes shifted lazily toward the entrance—
Then narrowed.
Locked onto Ronan.
Beside her sat Sophia.
"Sophia."
Her voice came low and smooth.
"Give me every detail about that boy."
Sophia blinked.
"You mean Ronan?"
"Yes."
Serenya folded her hands atop her lap.
"I want everything. Magic, strength, weaknesses, family, friends..." She paused. "...and how many missions he's completed with Darius."
Sophia stared.
"...Everything?"
"Everything."
From nearby, Tavin looked over with a raised eyebrow.
"I wouldn't recommend that."
Serenya turned.
"Hm?"
Tavin leaned back in his seat.
"If you have questions, ask him directly."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Ronan and Darius both hate people digging through their pasts."
His expression tightened slightly.
"Do that, and you'll end up on their blacklist forever."
Serenya tilted her head.
"You're close with Darius?"
"Not really."
He grimaced.
"...Friends, I guess."
A small smile curled at Serenya's lips.
"Then tell me instead."
Tavin blinked.
"What?"
"You'll be sharing information voluntarily."
Her smile widened innocently.
"I won't be digging."
She pointed at herself.
"So I stay off the blacklist."
Then pointed at him.
"You help me."
Then spread both hands.
"Everyone wins."
Tavin stared at her.
Sophia covered her mouth to stop a laugh.
"...You're impossible."
Serenya smiled sweetly.
Tavin let out a long-suffering sigh.
"Fine. I'll tell you what I know."
Half an hour passed.
Ronan sat in the middle row.
His head tilted slightly.
Then slightly more.
Then—
Darkness.
...
A loud voice suddenly echoed through the hall.
"Sir Vaelric has arrived!"
Ronan jerked violently.
His eyes flew open.
Warm moisture brushed against his cheek.
He froze.
Slowly raised a hand.
Touched the corner of his mouth.
...
Drool.
Panic flashed through him.
He wiped it away so fast his sleeve nearly smacked his own face.
Please tell me nobody saw that.
Around him, students were already standing.
Ronan shot to his feet.
"Good evening, sir!"
The hall thundered with voices.
At the podium stood Sir Vaelric.
Tall.
Sharp-eyed.
His robes carried silver runic patterns that shimmered faintly with Aether.
"Good evening, everyone."
His voice rolled through the room unnaturally clearly, enhanced by magic.
He began with introductions.
Achievements.
Titles.
Clan affiliations.
Past accomplishments.
Ronan listened for several minutes.
Then his eyes slowly lost focus.
...still talking...
...still talking...
How many titles does one person need?
Then Vaelric's tone shifted.
Immediately, Ronan's attention returned.
"Today," Vaelric said, voice sharpening, "we speak not of spells, swordplay, or theory."
His gaze swept across the hall.
"We speak of power."
Silence settled.
"Raw."
Step.
"Evolving."
Step.
"Dangerous."
Step.
"We speak of Monster Core Fusion."
The room became utterly still.
"Understand this."
Vaelric stopped pacing.
"Monster Core Fusion is not a trick."
"Not an exploit."
"Not some shortcut gifted by fate."
His eyes hardened.
"It is a pact."
The words struck heavily.
"Carved in blood, soul, and time."
"If done correctly, it can become the fastest path beyond your natural limits."
His voice dropped.
"If done incorrectly..."
He looked across the room.
"You become a name on a grave marker."
A cold chill crawled over the hall.
"A monster core is crystallised essence."
Chalk scraped against the board.
"It contains no memories."
"No soul."
"But it carries something else."
He turned.
"Abilities."
"Potential."
"Instinct."
"When you fuse with it, you gain access to those powers."
Then he paused.
"But there is a price."
Ronan's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Every core possesses resistance."
"It does not think."
"It does not feel."
"But it resists becoming part of something else."
"The stronger the creature, the stronger the resistance."
He tapped the board twice.
"That is why no sane Magic user fuses directly with mature Rank Six monsters."
Tap.
"Suicide."
Students swallowed visibly.
"Instead—"
A new diagram appeared.
"Target juvenile forms from powerful bloodlines."
He drew another line.
"Fuse with a young Lesser Wind Serpent rather than an adult Stormclad Skywyrm."
"Same lineage."
"Lower risk."
"And if nurtured correctly..."
His smile thinned.
"It evolves with you."
A hand shot up.
"Sir! Can we replace a fused core later?"
"Yes."
Vaelric answered immediately.
"But there are limits."
"You may only fuse with monsters sharing your elemental affinity."
He continued writing.
"Multiple fusions are possible."
Murmurs erupted.
"But not recommended."
The room quieted again.
"Control becomes increasingly unstable."
He tapped his temple.
"Eventually, your instincts begin overriding reason."
His voice turned flat.
"Berserk states. Personality erosion. Loss of self."
He looked up.
"So choose carefully."
"One or two high-quality bloodlines are worth more than ten mediocre ones."
Another student raised a hand.
"What about dual-element users?"
Vaelric nodded.
"Riskier."
"Two cores must possess compatible growth potential."
He drew intersecting circles.
"If one evolves significantly faster than the other, suppression begins."
His chalk pressed harder.
"Pain."
"Internal bleeding."
"Core destabilisation."
"Destruction."
"Or..." He looked over his shoulder. "Find a naturally dual-element monster."
Another hand rose.
"So we need monsters that reach similar ranks?"
"Exactly."
More chalk strokes appeared.
Elemental Resonance Surge — Enhanced affinity and spell potency
Ability Inheritance — Traits such as regeneration or elemental immunity
Aether Expansion — Greater control and circulation
"These are the rewards."
His eyes swept across them.
"Power for your magic."
"Power for your body."
"Power for your soul."
Then red chalk touched the board.
Fusion Failure = Death
Soul Fracture from early fusion or emotional instability
Core Rejection from elemental mismatch
Physical Collapse from rushed rituals
The red letters looked almost like blood.
No one spoke.
"There are also rare affinities."
"Ice."
"Mist."
"Wood."
He placed down the chalk.
"For those elements, suitable monsters are difficult to find."
"Many are too powerful."
"Others are nearly extinct."
He folded his hands behind his back.
"But do not become discouraged."
"Monster Core Fusion is powerful."
"Not mandatory."
"After certain Tiers, advancing monster abilities becomes increasingly difficult."
"You'll need stronger souls."
"Additional monster essence."
"Far more resources."
He resumed pacing.
"Fusion takes three to five days."
"You will need an alchemist."
"Herbal incense."
"Nutrient infusions."
"Elemental stabilisers."
He looked at them seriously.
"Without support, survival rates drop by sixty percent."
Then he stopped.
Complete silence filled the hall.
"Monster Core Fusion is not for the weak."
"It's for the bold."
His gaze sharpened.
"But remember this—"
His voice lowered.
"You're not stealing a monster's power."
"You're inviting it into your soul."
"And if you aren't prepared to fight for control of that shared space..."
He pointed toward them.
"Don't knock on that door."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
No whispers.
No movement.
Ronan sat motionless.
Beneath his ribs, his flame core pulsed once.
Then again.
Warm.
Heavy.
His fingers slowly tightened beneath the desk.
"Fight for control..."
Heat stirred faintly inside his chest.
A memory brushed against the edges of his thoughts.
Darkness.
Pain.
Something was clawing inside him.
His throat felt dry.
"I already know what it feels like..."
"To fight something inside me."