Namer Academy
Academia city,
Namer Island
15th September 385 Post Global Unification
Eighteen years after the Hailey Incident
Eren could hardly believe he was standing in front of her.
This was his idol.
The woman who, without ever knowing his name, had given him the courage to chase something greater—to reach for the summit others only whispered about. The dream of becoming a Magic King.
He couldn't remember when the desire had first taken root. There was no single moment, no clear reason. As far back as his memory went, the need to stand at the top had always been there, quiet but relentless. In the Lumerian doctrine taught to children, the title of Magic King wasn't just a rank—it was the highest expression of power, authority, and responsibility. A symbol of absolute might.
But doctrine alone hadn't shaped his dream.
He had seen it.
When he was ten, during a school field trip to this very island, he had caught a glimpse of her from afar. Just a boy in a crowd, craning his neck as the air itself seemed to bend around a distant figure. He hadn't understood cultivation, authority, or power back then—but he had felt it.
The weight of her presence.
The way the world seemed to acknowledge her existence.
In that moment, young Eren had believed something simple and profound: a being that powerful must be free. Free from expectations. Free from fear. Free from the invisible bindings society wrapped around everyone else.
Someone who stood so high couldn't be told what to do.
They decided.
That belief had stayed with him, quietly shaping every choice he made afterward—even when he forgot why he was climbing at all.
And now, standing before her, Eren felt that old certainty stir again—tempered by something new.
Not just awe.
But resolve.
"Yes. I'm Eren Walker, ma'am," Eren said.
Rey raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in him.
The awe that had filled his eyes moments ago—the raw admiration so many wore in the presence of the Sword King—had faded. Not vanished. It was still there, buried beneath the surface, quieter now. In its place, something else burned far brighter.
Resolve.
Lexa, who had been watching him with idle curiosity, noticed the shift immediately.
Slowly—almost as if puzzling over an unexpected complication—she smiled.
She had seen that first look countless times. Awe. Reverence. Fear. Usually, a mixture of all three. It was the natural response when someone sensed her aura or understood who stood before them. Eren had shown it too, briefly.
But he had also done something far more telling.
He had stepped through the gate.
Fear had screamed at him to turn back—and he had ignored it. That alone set him apart.
And now, as he stood before her, the admiration in his gaze had changed. It no longer weighed him down.
Lexa recognized that look instantly.
It was the look of someone with ambition sharpened into intent. The gaze of a climber, not a worshipper. Someone who could look up at the mountain—not in reverence, but in assessment.
Eren Walker wasn't staring at her because she stood above him.
He was measuring how far he still had to climb.
And perhaps—how he might one day take her place.
It was audacious. Borderline reckless.
And for the first time in a long while, Lexa Kinsway found herself genuinely impressed.
Damn brat, she thought, her smile deepening just a fraction. A glass table shimmered into existence beside her, formed from condensed Anima. Lexa set her wine upon it without looking, then rose smoothly to her feet. Only then did Eren truly register her height. She was tall—taller than him. Well over six feet. When she straightened, the room subtly seemed to adjust around her, as if space itself acknowledged her presence.
"I noticed the changes you made to the War Domain," Lexa said calmly.
Eren blinked. "You… you saw it?"
Lexa's lips curved faintly. "There's nothing that happens on this island without my knowledge."
It wasn't arrogance. It was a fact. Her internal senses blanketed the entire island, threading through space like an invisible net. Sight, sound, pressure, Anima fluctuations—nothing escaped her awareness. She saw the movements of hunters, students… even the quiet scurrying of rats in the shadows. And she let most of it happen. Interference would only dull the game.
"So," Lexa continued, golden eyes fixing on him, "you copied the Kinsway bloodline Ability Factor from my brother."
Eren stiffened. "I—I didn't mean to. It just… happened. When he drove his sword into me."
Only after the words left his mouth did the weight of it sink in. The ability he'd manifested—War Domain—was likely only a crude echo of what it must be in her hands. He'd nearly bled himself dry using just two techniques.
Lexa, by contrast, looked untouched.
"Typical of my brother," she said dryly. "Always sticking his nose where it doesn't belong."
She glanced toward Rey. "She explained the Transfer Ritual to me."
"Transfer… ritual?" Eren echoed.
"Master Alastor performed it to undo the seal on your core," Rey said.
Lexa nodded. "It happens more often than people think. A mage with the spiritual foundation to become an Ascendant, yet their core is sealed—by birth, by design, or by someone else's interference."
She stepped closer, her presence pressing down without her aura ever flaring.
"The Transfer Ritual bypasses that seal by directly injecting another's Anima into the core, forcibly breaking it from within. It's dangerous. Crude. And irreversible."
Her gaze sharpened.
"And in your case, it did more than simply unseal you," Lexa said. "You absorbed information from Alastor's Ability Factor."
Her gaze sharpened slightly. "Rey tells me you did something similar with the Basilisk. And standing here now… I can clearly sense more than one Ability Factor within you."
"How…" Eren began, then stopped.
"Don't underestimate the senses of a King," Lexa said calmly.
She walked toward the fireplace, resting one hand against the stone as the flames crackled behind her. Despite the casual posture, her attention never left Eren.
"That grimoire of yours," she continued. "Where did you get it?"
Eren hesitated, then answered honestly. "I don't know. It just… appeared. The first time, I found it and got rid of it."
Ash got rid of it, he corrected inwardly.
"Then it came back. The third time was when it devoured Mr. Alastor's magic."
Lexa hummed softly. "So it manifested on its own."
"Yes," Eren said cautiously. "Is that a problem?"
"Not particularly," Lexa replied. "Though, if I'm being honest, the fact that you've survived this long says a great deal."
Eren blinked. "I mean… as much as I dislike admitting it, I haven't really been in serious danger most of my life."
"Lucky you," Lexa said dryly.
She turned fully to face him now, golden eyes intent. "Most Irregulars don't survive past their Awakening—usually around fourteen or fifteen. Unless they're born into a Great Family, as I was, or sheltered by a powerful organization capable of protecting them."
Her gaze traced him, measuring.
"You, however, have reached your late teens."
Eren felt a chill run through him.
As I was.
The words clicked into place.
"You… you're an Irregular too," Eren said slowly.
Lexa's lips curved faintly. "Didn't I just say that?"
"So what's so dangerous about being an Irregular?" Eren asked. "Aside from the Global Union hunting us down."
"Maleficents," Lexa replied without hesitation.
Eren stiffened. "I've… had some trouble with them."
"As expected," Lexa said. "Maleficents are drawn to strong souls. They feed on spiritual density and resonance. And Irregulars possess the most potent souls of all—far surpassing even those blessed directly by the World Will."
She paused, then added, "That said, their numbers have declined over the centuries. This age has been relatively peaceful."
"So having my core sealed was… a blessing?" Eren asked.
"Yes," Lexa answered simply. "Whoever did it knew what they were doing. Or at the very least, they had a reason. I'd very much like to know who."
Eren shook his head. "I don't know. I never met my parents. And I don't think Mother Ruth knows either…"
He hesitated, then asked quietly, "Are you going to report me to the government?"
Lexa's gaze snapped back to him, sharp and incredulous. "Why would I?"
She scoffed softly. "My foolish brother went to great lengths to undo the seal on your core. He did that for a reason. I want to know what he saw in you—what compelled him to take such a risk."
"He did it to give me a fighting chance," Eren said. "To save my family. He was a true Hunter in the end. Dead or alive… I intend to repay that debt."
"Hm. Is that so?" Lexa murmured.
She returned to her chair and sank into it, posture suddenly lax, as though even sitting upright required effort. Her gaze drifted to the ceiling, golden eyes unfocused. For a moment, she seemed utterly uninterested in Eren's presence.
Then she spoke.
"The truth is, you're weak," Lexa said flatly. "Too weak for me to even acknowledge you as a proper Irregular."
Eren swallowed.
"So I've decided to fix that."
Eren blinked. "Wait… you're going to train me?"
"Every evening," Lexa said. "I will personally beat you into shape."
"I—uh—I do have classes—"
"Are you refusing my help?" Lexa cut in, eyes sliding back to him. "I don't train people. Ever. You should feel honored to receive even one hour of my time."
"No, of course not, ma'am," Eren said immediately.
"Good." Lexa waved a hand dismissively. "You may go."
Eren turned and headed toward the exit, passing Rey. Just before he reached the door, Lexa's voice drifted after him.
"Don't concern yourself with Alastor. He isn't dead. Merely… missing."
Eren stopped, then turned back.
"That's good to know," he said quietly.
He bowed deeply.
"Thank you."
****
The next day, Eren attended his first Fundamentals of Magic Theory class. By coincidence—or luck—he shared the class with Ash and Tony. The three of them sat in the same row, quietly taking notes as the lecture unfolded.
Professor Vel Taryn paced at the front of the hall, breaking down the nature of Anima and correcting the most common misconceptions surrounding it. He spoke at length about how magic truly functioned beneath its surface complexity, dismantling popular myths one by one. Even Simple Magic found its way into the discussion, with the professor emphasizing its foundational importance within every advanced spell and technique.
By the time class ended, Eren's head was full.
Later, in the courtyard, he lay sprawled across the thick branch of a large tree, notes resting on his chest as he reread them in the shade. Nearby, Ash sat on a bench, relaxed and unbothered, watching the flow of students pass through the grounds as the day continued.
"I've got Introduction to Artifice and Practical Studies next," Eren said, folding his notes as he looked over at Ash. "What about you?"
"I had that yesterday," Ash replied lazily. "I've got Runes, Glyphs, and Symbolic Compression coming up."
"Figures," Eren said with a faint smile as he pushed himself off the tree branch and landed lightly on the ground. "Guess I should get moving, then."
Ash watched him for a moment before speaking again. "Have you talked to Mother Ruth yet?"
"Yeah," Eren answered. He'd spoken with her the week before classes began, and again just the night before, after everyone had settled in. "Why?"
"No reason," Ash said quickly.
He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and started walking away without elaborating. "See you later."
Eren frowned slightly, watching Ash's back as he disappeared into the crowd. He shook his head.
Sometimes I really can't tell what's going on in his head.
With a quiet sigh, Eren turned and headed in the opposite direction.
~
Introduction to Artifice and Practical Studies quickly proved to be his favorite class yet. Unlike the more abstract lectures of magic theory, this course was hands-on, grounded in application. The professor wasted no time diving into topics like basic forgemastery, material resonance, structural reinforcement through Anima, and the principles behind crafting enchanted tools.
For Eren, it all clicked immediately.
Forging wasn't just about tools—it was about intent, structure, and controlled force. Concepts that resonated deeply with his Forge Domain.
As he entered the workshop-style classroom, he noticed Belle already seated near the middle, a chair beside her conspicuously empty. She glanced up, noticed him, and gave a small nod—as if the seat had always been meant for him.
Eren took it without comment.
For the first time that day, he felt genuinely eager to begin.
Once the day's lectures and classes finally ended, Eren made his way back toward Professor Kinsway's estate, bracing himself for whatever training awaited him.
But the moment he passed through the silver gate, something felt… off.
That crushing, overwhelming presence he had felt the night before was gone. The courtyard was quiet, almost serene, and Professor Kinsway was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, Reyna Greyron stood beside the fountain.
She looked up as Eren approached, her expression cool and distant—so cold, in fact, that it struck him immediately.
I don't think I've ever seen her smile, Eren thought.
"Where's Professor Kinsway?" he asked.
"She's sleeping," Rey replied as she rose to her feet. "According to her, you need to pass a qualification before she's willing to spend the effort training you. So… she delegated."
Her gaze sharpened as it settled on him.
"I'm here to polish you up."
Eren frowned. "What qualification?"
Rey didn't answer right away.
"Summon your spirit weapon," she said instead.
"…What?" Eren blinked.
"You heard me," Rey said flatly. "Summon that gauntlet of yours. You know—the one you tried to use against me."
Eren exhaled slowly and tried to focus.
Summoning his gauntlet demanded intense concentration. Worse, maintaining it drained his stamina at an alarming rate. He fixed his attention on the obsidian ring around his finger, guiding his Anima toward it, coaxing its true form to emerge—
Clink.
Rey flicked a coin toward him.
Static crackled through the air as the coin shot forward at terrifying speed, narrowly missing Eren's torso. He twisted aside just in time; the sudden movement shattering his concentration. The half-formed manifestation collapsed instantly.
The coin sailed past him, slamming into the silver gate—only to be stopped by an invisible barrier surrounding the estate.
"Hey!" Eren snapped. "What the hell was that for?"
He remembered those coins—how she'd used them during the Dungeon test, accelerating them to lethal velocities. This time, she'd clearly held back.
"If you're in the middle of a fight," Rey said coldly, "do you think your enemy will politely wait for you to summon your spirit weapon?"
She drew another coin from her pocket. Electricity crawled across her fingers, far denser than before.
"Summon it."
Eren gritted his teeth and tried to focus again.
He didn't get the chance.
More coins flew.
Eren moved on instinct, forcing his body to multitask—dodging her relentless attacks while struggling to form a stable Anima link with the ring. He glanced down, channeling power into it. The ring began to glitch, its surface distorting as if it were trying to expand—
Then another coin screamed past his shoulder.
The connection snapped.
Again.
And again.
Minutes blurred into an hour of constant motion. Eren dodged, rolled, stumbled, pushed himself back up, his lungs burning as his Anima reserves steadily dwindled. Each time he came close, Rey disrupted him with brutal precision.
Finally, Eren collapsed onto his back, chest heaving, vision swimming.
Rey, meanwhile, looked barely inconvenienced.
"Your Anima flow control has improved," she said calmly. "Not by much—but it's noticeable."
She turned away.
"We'll continue tomorrow. Same time."
With that, she walked off, leaving Eren sprawled on the ground, gasping for air as his body struggled to recover.
He stared up at the sky, breath ragged.
"…Damn bitch."
****
Coastline of Namer Island
Port Nagmash
Nuir Farmland
Aguero Agni Kazkhan walked through what used to be the lands of the Nuir family.
Once, this farmland had been alive.
The Nuirs—Plant folk by blood and heritage—had cultivated these fields for generations. Rows of enchanted crops once stretched toward the horizon, leaves shimmering faintly with residual magic, roots threaded deep into soil enriched by centuries of careful stewardship. The air had carried the scent of living Anima—earthy, sharp, and clean.
Now, it was quiet.
Too quiet.
The land no longer belonged to the Nuir family. Debt had swallowed them whole, and the estate had been sold off piece by piece to another wealthy name that had neither history here nor interest in tending it. The new owners had simply taken possession—and abandoned it.
Wind rolled through the empty fields, rustling untended grass where cultivated rows should have been. Irrigation channels lay dry and cracked. Storage sheds sagged inward, doors hanging loose on rusted hinges.
Aguero paused and closed his eyes.
Through the Godsky Network, he had traced the anomalous Anima signature from the Dungeon incident to this place. The trail had been faint, fragmented—but unmistakable.
He extended his Internal Sense.
His awareness washed outward across the farmland in a silent wave. Soil density. Ambient Anima circulation. World energy flow. He read the land the way a hunter read tracks.
Nothing.
No workers. No life signatures. No residual cultivation patterns.
It was as if the land itself had been emptied.
A flicker caught his attention.
Near the far edge of the property stood a single hut—small, weathered, and out of place. Aguero narrowed his focus and directed his senses toward it.
That was where the disturbance lay.
Subtle. Almost imperceptible.
He approached on foot.
Up close, the hut felt wrong. No tools leaned against its walls. No farming implements. No crates, no baskets, no residue of daily labor. Even abandoned buildings usually retained traces of purpose—but this one felt scrubbed clean.
Too clean.
Aguero stepped inside.
The interior was bare. Dust lay evenly across the floor, undisturbed. The air was stale, but beneath it lingered something else—an echo so faint it bordered on absence. Darkness magic. Not the violent kind. Not Destruction. Sterilization.
A controlled application of the element of darkness—used to erase contamination, sever lingering Anima imprints, and cleanse an area down to the metaphysical level. Whoever had been here hadn't wanted to hide their presence. They had wanted to erase it.
Aguero exhaled slowly. Whatever anomaly had passed through this place, it was gone now. Any residual Anima had been devoured, neutralized, or dispersed beyond recovery. Which meant only one thing. He was already late.
"You can show yourself," Aguero said as he stepped out of the hut.
The air rippled.
Reyna Greyron emerged from the distortion, her presence sharp and composed, as if she had never been hiding at all. Aguero wasn't surprised. Not by her appearance, nor by who she was.
The Thunder Princess of the Holy Empire stood exactly as he expected—calm, poised, and utterly unruffled.
Given that the Sword King was currently stationed at Namer Academy—much like Aguero himself was, much to his irritation—and that Reyna Greyron was under the stewardship of the Kinsway family, her presence here made perfect sense.
"Did Alexander send you?" Aguero asked.
"She did," Rey replied simply.
Aguero studied her for a moment before turning his gaze back to the fields. "Then why are you here?"
"My Master believes the Dungeon incident is connected to the break-in at the Azural Library," Rey said. "In the Holy Empire."
Aguero's brow furrowed. "I heard about that. Funny business. Someone finally managed to crack the Zangrest enchantments."
"The same energy signature detected in the Library was confirmed to belong to the force behind the Dungeon incident," Rey said.
She didn't mention the orphanage in the Haumea nation.
Or the Irregular involved.
Some truths were better held back—for now.
Aguero clicked his tongue softly. "Then we're too late. Whatever it was, it's already gone."
"So it seems," Rey agreed.
Lexa had sent her here for one reason: to trace the force circling Eren Walker. To find whoever was moving in the shadows.
And perhaps—if fortune allowed—to find Master Alastor.
Rey glanced toward the abandoned fields. "Do you know who owns this land now?"
"According to my intel," Aguero said, "it was purchased after the Nuir family collapsed under debt. Bought outright by a corporation."
He paused, then added, "The Myrr Corporation."
Rey's eyes narrowed, just slightly.
"You mean the same corporation whose CEO is scheduled to visit Namer Academy this weekend?"
"The very same," Aguero replied.
The wind swept through the empty farmland once more, carrying nothing with it.
But both of them knew—
Something had already begun to move.
****
"Are you sure about this?" Boji asked.
The armored knight stood rigid, metal plates faintly grinding as he shifted his weight. Even behind the visor, his unease was obvious.
Gyan shot him a sharp look, irritation flashing across his face. This was the fourth time Boji had asked the same question.
He understood the hesitation. Truly, he did. Kars always had plans—layers within layers—and most of them pushed well past what sane people would consider reasonable. But this?
This was something else entirely.
That bastard was sick.
"You do your part," Blaze said calmly, "and you'll be compensated."
Boji didn't respond, but the tension in his stance didn't ease.
"You'd better pay well," Cobra cut in, his voice low and edged with hunger.
He leaned back against a stone pillar, arms crossed, eyes gleaming beneath his hood. Cobra and Boji were mercenaries from the northern lands—veterans hardened by cold battlefields and long droughts of opportunity. They hadn't come south out of loyalty or curiosity. They had come because business had slowed. But that was about to change.
War was brewing—between the Middle East Alliance and the Global Union—and when war erupted, mercenaries thrived. Contracts multiplied. Power flowed. Levels climbed. Before they could throw themselves into that coming storm, though, they needed an edge. A shortcut. A Hexstone. What better way to grow stronger? Kars Ma'ha Ra had promised them exactly that—and more. A payout generous enough to justify the risk. Enough to make them overlook the risk to the plan. Gyan clenched his jaw, glancing once more at the proxies Kars had bought for their goals.
****
Weeks passed.
Despite Rey's relentless polishing sessions, Eren still hadn't managed to summon his gauntlet under combat pressure successfully. He could feel it—right there, just beyond his reach—but every attempt collapsed the moment his focus slipped. Rey showed no mercy, and if anything, her standards only grew harsher.
Still, outside of that particular failure, things were going well. Classes had been nothing short of exhilarating for Eren. The deeper he delved into magic theory, artifice, and Hunter studies, the more the world seemed to open up before him. For the first time in his life, he wasn't just surviving within the system—he was beginning to understand it.
And now, that understanding was about to be put to the test. For the first time since enrolling, the students were leaving the safety of the academy grounds. They were going into a real Dungeon. The Hunter course, Dungeon Survival Fundamental, was taught by Professor Wingram, the same professor of Rune, glyphs, and symbolic compression. Today's lesson wasn't held in a classroom or simulated arena. It was held at the Dungeon gate itself.
Namer Academy possessed a private portal keyed directly to the island's Dungeon—a controlled access point that bypassed the chaotic upper layers and delivered teams straight into the lower floors. Even so, the air around the portal thrummed with danger, thick with compressed world energy and distorted Anima flow. This was no training ground.
"This isn't a little early?" Ayden asked quietly as he stood near the portal array, eyes flicking between the students and the unstable runes etched into the stone.
Professor Wingram didn't hesitate. "Director Godsky believes this year's Hunter candidates require pressure," he said flatly. "Real pressure."
His gaze swept across the group—lingering briefly on Reo, Ash, and the heirs of the Great Families: Nox and Victor. Then, unavoidably, his eyes landed on Eren Walker.
Wingram narrowed them slightly.
"We'll be monitoring them the entire time," he continued. "You and I. No one goes off-grid. No heroics."
Ayden sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sure. Let's hope they're ready."
He stepped forward and began inscribing the final enchantment sequence. Runes flared to life one by one, the air warping as the portal responded. Space folded inward, revealing a swirling abyss of muted light and shadow beyond.
The Dungeon awaited. And whether they were ready or not—
Their first true descent was about to begin.