The Sword King's Palace
Fifth Division Main Building
Ares district
Lumerian Island
Headquarters of the Global Hunter Association
The council chamber was filled with noise—voices overlapping, arguments colliding in an endless cycle of bickering that only sharpened the tension hanging over the room. Alexander Kinsway watched the spectacle from a corner of the vast, dimly lit chamber, her presence concealed behind a curtain wall. The other Security Council members were hidden as well, each separated by similar barriers. Their identities were unknown to one another—a mandate written into the Global Charter millennia ago. No face. No name. Only voices and authority.
The unrest in the Middle East had begun spilling into the Eastern Continent. Lexa frowned faintly. She still didn't understand what the militant factions wanted with the Kazhan Wastelands. The region was desolate—barren, resource-poor, and strategically miserable. Worse still, any direct attack on the cities within the wasteland would violate the peace treaty that had held for nearly two millennia.
The Union didn't want war. That didn't mean it was afraid of one. Sending Saint-class Hunters was always an option. Several of Lexa's squads had already been deployed to the East under her division, tasked with monitoring the situation delicately. It was only a matter of time before the council decided to escalate—and if they did, they might send her.
"We should dispatch the Sword King immediately," one council member declared. "End this quickly."
"The situation doesn't warrant a King-class Hunter yet," another countered. "Especially not the Sword King."
"What do you mean it doesn't?" a third voice snapped. "They've crossed the border into the wasteland. It's only a matter of time before they reach the walls of Kazak City."
"And when that happens," another said, "chaos follows. Thousands of lives lost—when we could have ended this before it ever reached that point."
"Which is why we've already reinforced the border with additional Hunter squads," came the reply. "If we send a King now, we might as well declare war on the Mid-East Alliance."
"If we send the Sword King," a louder voice cut in, "they'll have no choice but to back down."
"The Sword King is excessive for a situation this delicate—"
"Delicate?" another scoffed. "A foreign nation violating our territory is delicate now?"
"And that's exactly why the Hunters already stationed there should be sufficient."
The argument spiraled—voices rising, looping back on themselves. Lexa sighed and switched off her holo-cell. The projection dissolving, she found herself back in her office within the Hunter Association headquarters. Though she wasn't a council member, Magic Kings were permitted to attend these sessions. She'd been the only one present.
The others rarely bothered with politics. Neither did she—normally. But she'd wanted to know whether the council planned to send her to the Eastern Front. From what Alastor had reported, the situation there was relatively quiet.
Alastor…
Lexa's expression darkened slightly. She hadn't heard from her older brother in some time. Normally, that wouldn't concern her—Alastor could more than handle himself. But his complete silence was troubling. It wasn't like him. That was why she'd sent Reyna—Alastor's protégé—to link up with him.
Lexa pulled up the last report Alastor had transmitted. He'd been investigating an Irregularity within the nation of Haumea. Stranger still, the same anomalous Anima that had breached the Zangrest Library was somehow tied to it. Lexa frowned. Irregulars were rare—exceptionally rare. As far as official records went, only six existed: four within the Global Union, two in the Underworld. So where did this seventh one come from?
As an Irregular herself, Lexa could sense others like her. She always knew where the known ones were. But she felt nothing in the Western Continent. Nothing at all.
"Tch…" she muttered under her breath.
The Azural King had left behind a mess—one that only seemed to grow more complicated the longer she looked at it. And overthinking things had never been Alexander Kinsway's style. She rose from her desk and opened the door. Her secretary was already waiting outside.
"Captain—I have the documents you requested."
Ana's voice squeaked as she hurried forward, clutching a parchment with both hands. She bowed deeply, shoulders trembling. Lexa accepted the document with a nod, acknowledging her without comment. Ana was still new to Lexa's staff. She hadn't yet grown accustomed to being around her.
As Lexa walked through the barracks of her division's main building, she skimmed the parchment. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she rolled it up and tucked it away, stopping near the training center where drills were in full swing.
The Fifth Division of the Hunter Association was infamous. They were the most battle-hungry of all the divisions—unsurprising, given that the Kinsway family had always commanded it. The division served not only as an arm of the Hunter Association, but also as the personal military force of Lumerian Island itself—the seat of power for the Global Union. Protecting the Holy Land was their sworn duty.
Lexa's thoughts drifted back to Alastor. Ever since he'd left, paperwork had flooded her desk to the point of madness. Even now, with him missing, she wasn't truly afraid he was dead. His Vital Status Relic—the artifact that confirmed the life state of blood relatives—remained active. That alone eased her worry more than Rey's. Lexa trusted her brother's instincts. If anyone knew how to stay alive, it was Alastor.
"What's on your mind, Captain?"
Lexa turned to see Reyna Greyron approaching.
So she took my advice, Lexa thought.
"You're back," the Sword King said. Rey hadn't looked pleased when Lexa ordered her return to base.
"You said you had something planned," Rey replied coolly.
Lexa had nothing personal against the princess—but even she found the constant air of superiority grating. Then again, growing up as royalty in the Holy Empire, part of a Great Family, would warp anyone's self-image. Still, Rey was different from the others. She might look arrogant, but she didn't act like it. Lexa handed her the parchment. Rey took it and read quickly, her eyes narrowing.
"Please tell me this isn't your plan…"
"It's simple," Lexa said.
Rey reread the document.
A formal request for a new Instructor at Namer University, assigned to Gifted Awakeners.
"No," Rey said flatly. "No, it's not simple."
"The boy will be attending Namer," Lexa replied.
"Maybe. Maybe not," Rey shot back. "You made me interfere with his exam, remember? I doubt the board will let him pass."
"You never know," Lexa said calmly.
"You're still a Magic King," Rey pressed. "You can't just abandon your post to play instructor."
"Ramesh can handle things here," Lexa replied without hesitation. Ramesh—the captain of Second Squad, third in command after Alastor—was more than capable. Policing the Holy Land was routine for him.
"And you think you can teach?" Rey said. "You barely—"
"Yeah," Lexa cut in, smirking. "You're right. Teaching sounds like a drag."
Rey narrowed her eyes. "Then what are you thinking?"
She already knew the answer—and cursed herself for asking.
"You're coming too," Lexa said, grinning. "If I recall correctly, instructors are allowed an assistant."
"Are you insane?" Rey snapped. "I need to return to Haumea. I need to find Alastor. I can't just—"
"Alastor isn't in Haumea anymore," Lexa said.
Her tone had changed.
Rey stiffened. "His last known location was Haumea. What makes you so sure he left?"
"Intuition," Lexa replied quietly. "If we're going to find my brother, following Eren Walker is our best lead."
Rey's expression darkened. "Because the boy's an Irregular?"
Her mind flashed back to the moment she'd seen Eren defeat the Basilisk. At the time, she'd dismissed it as a fluke—but the look on her captain's face said otherwise.
Eren Walker.
What did you do to catch the Sword King's attention?
"Something like that," Lexa said. "Prepare for the start of the school year. We leave for Namer Island when it begins."
Rey sighed. There was no changing her captain's mind. She'd spent most of her life under Lexa's command, yet she still couldn't fully understand her way of thinking. Alastor had always been the one who balanced her out. And now he was gone—leaving Rey to fill that role. She clenched the parchment in her hand. The thought of Eren Walker stirred something hot and unwelcome in her chest.
What's so damn special about you?
Maybe next time she saw him, she'd find out for herself.
****
Weeks had passed since the exam, and neither Eren nor Ash had received any notice from the Examination Association. The silence gnawed at him. For the first week, Eren had been a nervous wreck—jumping at every footstep, every knock, every rustle of paper—desperately waiting for the letter that would decide his future. Eventually, he'd forced himself to stop thinking about it. Obsessing wouldn't change the outcome.
Training might. Now he stood in the orphanage yard, surrounded by animated rock targets—Sister Judith's doing, once again. The stone constructs loomed in a loose circle around him, their forms rough but sturdy, faint runes glowing across their surfaces. Eren drew in a slow breath and held it. Then he let everything go.
The stress.
The anxiety.
The fear of being a failure.
Anima surged through his spirit circuit and poured into his fist. Eren exhaled and moved. He tore through the first row of rocks, his punches shattering them as if they were made of brittle glass. The golems reacted instantly, the spell animating them, allowing them to counter and adapt. Stone weapons formed in their hands as they swung at him, forcing Eren to weave in and out of their reach. When he couldn't evade, he countered. One golem pressed him head-on while another moved in from behind. Eren felt it before he saw it. This was the point of the exercise.
To sharpen his senses beyond their current limits. He summoned his gauntlet. The blue construct flared into existence around his arm, vibrating with intense heat. Eren snapped his fist forward in a sharp jab. An Anima fist burst free from his strike—spinning, compressed, and perfectly controlled. It curved midair under Eren's command and smashed straight through the golem behind him, pulverizing its torso in a single blow.
Since beginning this training, Eren had uncovered more about the gauntlet's capabilities.
First: Elemental infusion dramatically increased his striking power. He'd learned that the hard way during his fight with the Maleficent. The downside was obvious—it consumed an enormous amount of Anima. Second: the blue flames and light emitted by the gauntlet didn't just enhance attacks. They boosted his physical attributes, especially speed. The effect was eerily similar to his innate physical enhancement ability—only sharper, more explosive. Third: he could now summon the blue flames independently, without forming the guantlet. This allowed him to cast low-level offensive spells. The drawback, however, was efficiency—spellcasting drained far more Anima than simple reinforcement.
Now, he was learning Initiate-rank techniques to refine his foundation. Relying solely on his Ability Factor wasn't enough. That realization had come when he finally mastered Aura Skin. Aura Skin was a basic yet vital technique for body cultivators, providing both offensive reinforcement and defensive layering. It was the prerequisite for Fortification, a more advanced spell that enhanced both physical and spiritual power.
Eren activated Aura Skin now.
Because his Anima reserves were still limited, he couldn't coat his entire body. Instead, he focused the aura tightly around his fist, condensing it into a dense sheath of power. The result was devastating—his strikes hit far harder than before. Fourth—and most importantly—Eren had discovered he could extend his reach. The Anima fist wasn't just a projectile. He could guide it. With focused intent, he could alter its trajectory mid-flight, adjusting direction and momentum as if it were an extension of his own arm. This gave him unprecedented freedom in combat—allowing him to attack from blind angles and control the flow of battle. That was what he was doing now.
Stone shattered. Golems crumbled. And Eren kept moving—faster, sharper, more deliberate than before. He wasn't waiting for the future anymore. He was forging it.
[Fa Jin Style — Dynamic Fist]
Eren unleashed a surge of blue light around his fist. At first, the Anima churned chaotically, spiraling wildly as his unstable control fought to contain it. Then—through sheer focus—it compressed, settling into a thin, vibrating layer that clung tightly to his knuckles.
He struck.
On impact, the aura detonated in a towering pillar of blue Anima. The golem didn't crack—it disintegrated, its stone body splintering outward under the force of the explosion. His gauntlet carved a trail of burning light as Eren pressed forward, blue flames ripping through the remaining constructs. This was the same technique he had used to defeat the Basilisk. He'd discovered it inscribed within his grimoire and had been working to reproduce it ever since. Still, he hadn't managed to match the overwhelming output of that first, instinctive use.
"What was that technique?"
Ash's voice broke through the aftermath. Eren turned to see him standing by the kitchen's back door, arms crossed, golden eyes sharp with interest.
"What do you want?" Eren groaned.
It wasn't Ash's fault—but seeing him still irritated Eren. For all his talent, Ash was terrible at teaching. Being a natural genius, he struggled to explain things Eren had to fight tooth and nail to understand. That was why Eren had turned to his grimoire instead.
"You're not going to answer my question?" Ash said, eyebrow raised.
"It's a technique I found in my grimoire," Eren replied. "My Fa Jin style was already inscribed inside it."
That had been the fifth major discovery. Eren's attempt to reorganize his martial arts to work alongside his magic had turned out to be far easier than expected. Somehow, his grimoire contained techniques directly tied to his fighting style. He had no idea how the book knew his martial arts—but he wasn't about to complain. It wasn't just helping him cultivate Anima. It was helping him fight.
"Huh," Ash murmured. "I've never heard of a Magic Warrior receiving a grimoire." Magic Warriors—mages who practiced body cultivation—were rare enough as it was. "But you're a special case. I guess it makes sense yours would double as a martial manual."
"Did you need something?" Eren asked.
"Mail's here," Ash said. "Mother Ruth told me to get you."
Eren's stomach tightened.
He and Ash exchanged a brief look before heading back inside.
Mother Ruth was seated at the dining table, surrounded by Patry, Ina, and Carla. Letters and small parcels were spread across the tabletop as she carefully sorted through them. And somewhere among them—Eren knew—was the letter that would decide his future
"Anything worthwhile?" Eren asked as he took a seat, reaching out to help Mother Ruth sort through the pile of mail.
Most of it was mundane—power plant bills, mortgage notices for the building, and the usual flood of loan offers. He focused on the task, trying to drown out the tight knot in his chest. If he kept busy, maybe he wouldn't think about his future. Then—
"Yes," Carla said suddenly. "There are two letters from the Examination Association."
The room stilled. She pulled two thick envelopes from the stack, handing one to Ash, who stood beside Mother Ruth. Then she turned and passed the other to Patry, who carefully offered it to Eren. His hands shook as he took it. The envelope was thick.
Maybe…
Maybe it means—
Eren inhaled sharply.
Relax.
If he didn't get in, there was always another chance. Another year. Another path. He tore the package open. The first thing he saw was the letter. He unfolded it—and froze.
"Well?" Ash asked, already holding his own acceptance letter. Unlike Eren, Ash hadn't been nervous. He'd known he would pass. Eren's face broke into a wide grin, dimples carving into his cheeks—
Then the grin faded, replaced by something quieter. He swallowed.
"I… got in."
The room exploded.
Patry and Carla shrieked in joy, throwing their arms around him as they bounced in place. Even Mother Ruth smiled, reaching over to pick up the letter Eren had left on the table.
She read aloud:
Dear Mr. Walker,
We are pleased to inform you that the Committee of Admissions has selected you to join the Prestigious School for the Mystically Gifted. Please accept our sincere congratulations on your outstanding achievements.
As you are aware, Namer Academy admits only a limited number of students each year, despite receiving thousands of applications. In selecting you, the committee has demonstrated its confidence in your abilities and potential as a Magic Warrior.
Should you accept this admission, please note that the academic year will begin in the eighth month of this year. Enclosed within this package are course catalogs, campus life information, and required materials for enrollment.
We look forward to welcoming you to Namer Academy this fall.
Yours sincerely,
William R. Fitz
Dean of Admissions
"Congratulations, boys," Mother Ruth said warmly. "It seems the gods have answered my prayers for you both."
Eren wasn't sure the gods had anything to do with it. But he didn't care. He hadn't performed the way he'd hoped—had barely performed at all—but none of that mattered anymore. What mattered was what came next. He'd been accepted. One step closer to becoming a Hunter. One step closer to making his dream real. If he'd possessed even half the skills he had now during the exam, he would've breezed through it.
Damn that princess…
Eren clenched his fist, resolve hardening. If he wanted to survive—and thrive—at Namer Academy, he would have to become far stronger than he was now. Mother Ruth clapped her hands together, rising from her seat.
"You know what this calls for," she said brightly. "We're going shopping for school supplies."
And for the first time in weeks, Eren laughed—free of doubt, free of fear, and ready for what came next.