Arvane did not summon Liam casually.
That alone told Liam the matter was serious.
They stood within the principal's private chamber, sealed by layered formations that muted even systemic observation. The air felt heavy—not with pressure, but with urgency.
"There is an intermediate hell-level dungeon that opened three days ago," Arvane said. "Officially, it is marked as stable."
Liam frowned. "And unofficially?"
Arvane's gaze sharpened. "Demonic movement inside does not match recorded patterns."
Liam understood immediately. "Silver-haired Anchor."
"Yes," Arvane confirmed. "We cannot allow him to be captured by a Demon Lord's minions. Not yet."
"Not ever," Liam said quietly.
Arvane nodded. "You will enter alone."
No escort.
No teachers.
No restrictions.
"Inspect the dungeon," Arvane continued. "Eliminate abnormalities. Confirm whether silver haired boy has passed through—or is still inside."
Liam did not hesitate. "I'll go."
The Hell-Level Dungeon
The dungeon entrance yawned open like a wound carved into reality itself.
Crimson-black stone. Heat that distorted vision. Mana so dense it pressed against the skin.
Intermediate hell-level.
This was no place for ordinary elites.
Liam stepped inside.
The moment his boots touched the dungeon floor, his Red Core pulsed—deep, authoritative.
He exhaled slowly.
"Come," he said.
The world answered.
The Undead Legion Unleashed
Shadows tore free from the ground.
One by one, then dozens, then hundreds.
Undead mages emerged first, staffs forming from condensed death mana. Death Knights followed, armor reshaping itself into sharper, more refined forms.
Dullahans rode forward, their spectral mounts stamping the stone.
And then—
Something changed.
Several of the undead that had followed Liam from the beginning—those forged in his earliest battles—began to shift.
Flesh reformed.
Features sharpened.
Eyes regained clarity.
They no longer looked like corpses.
They looked… human.
[Summon Evolution Detected] Condition Met: Master at 2nd Transformation Result: Cognitive Reconstruction Initiated
When Liam crossed fully into the third transformation—
The change completed.
A new message burned briefly into existence.
[Anchor Dominion Rule Activated] All third-transformation summons require individual designation Designation grants identity, autonomy, and growth permission
Liam felt it instantly.
A pull.
A responsibility.
Names were no longer cosmetic.
They were anchors.
As he grew stronger—
So would they.
If he allowed it.
The First Name
At the center of the formation stood a mage.
Robes woven from shadow and memory. Mana control flawless. Eyes calm and alert.
This one had evolved faster than the others.
Liam studied him for a long moment.
"You will be the first," Liam said.
The mage knelt immediately.
"From this moment," Liam continued, "you are Beta."
The name settled like law.
The mage's presence stabilized.
His mana surged—cleaner, denser, more refined.
Beta pressed a fist to his chest. "I exist by your will, my lord."
Liam nodded. "Rise."
Behind Beta, the legion stilled.
They were waiting.
Dungeon Purge
They moved.
The dungeon did not resist—it panicked.
Hell beasts were erased in moments.
Demonic packs collapsed under coordinated necromantic bombardment.
Liam did not need to give commands.
His will flowed through the legion naturally.
As they advanced deeper, Liam felt it—
A familiar presence.
Not hostile.
Not hiding.
Waiting.
At the dungeon's core chamber, the heat lessened abruptly.
White stone interrupted the hellish terrain, forming a circular platform untouched by corruption.
And there—
Stood the silver-haired boy.
Meeting Arch
Arch turned slowly as Liam approached.
No weapon drawn.
No hostility.
But tension coiled tightly beneath his calm exterior.
"You're stronger than before," Arch said evenly.
Liam stopped a few steps away. His undead halted behind him, silent.
"You're not hiding," Liam replied. "That tells me you didn't come here to kill anyone."
Arch exhaled. "I don't intend to do any harm—to you or your people."
He hesitated, then added, "My name is Arch."
The Blue Core in his chest glowed softly.
"I came from another world," Arch said. "One that no longer exists."
Liam did not interrupt.
"In my world," Arch continued, "Anchors were controlled. Enslaved. Used by a Demon Lord to enforce eternal order."
His hands clenched slightly.
"I was one of them."
Silence stretched.
"I realized too late what stability without freedom becomes," Arch said. "When I escaped, my world was already dead."
He looked directly at Liam.
"I won't let that happen again."
Liam studied him carefully.
No lies.
No manipulation.
Only fear—and resolve.
"You think I might become the same thing," Liam said.
Arch did not deny it. "I don't know what you'll become."
"Neither do I," Liam replied.
Then he turned.
"Come with me."
Arch blinked. "What?"
"You don't belong in a hell dungeon," Liam said. "And you definitely don't belong in a Demon Lord's sight."
Arch hesitated only a moment.
Then he nodded. "Very well."
Return to the Academy
The dungeon collapsed behind them as Liam exited.
Beta and the legion dissolved back into shadow, returning to Liam's domain.
Arvane was waiting.
When he saw Arch, his expression did not change—but the air shifted.
"So," the principal said calmly, "you are the Stabilizer who crossed worlds."
Arch inclined his head. "I am."
Liam looked between them.
"There's a lot to discuss," Liam said.
Arvane nodded slowly.
"Yes," he agreed. "There is."
Far away, unseen—
Something ancient watched.
And smiled.
Because two Anchors had finally chosen dialogue.
And that—
Was far more dangerous than war.