Growth did not stop simply because the world was quiet.
After the discussion with the Principal, Arch left the academy grounds. He did not choose isolation—he chose observation. The outside world was unfamiliar, fragile, and dangerously similar to the one he had lost. He needed to understand it before touching it.
Liam, meanwhile, continued to grow—but not recklessly.
His undead army expanded slowly, deliberately. Every summon was bound not just by mana, but by permission. He did not command blindly. He learned. He adjusted. And the Red Core responded.
Yet far from the academy—
Something else was born.
Karl Kael
Karl returned home expecting silence.
What he found was absence.
The Kael estate was gone.
No servants.
No guards.
No bloodstains.
Only scorched earth and broken foundations, as if the place had never been meant to exist.
He searched for days.
Every lead ended the same way—fear, avoidance, closed doors.
When he finally forced his way into the academy, rage burning behind his eyes, the Principal did not even grant him an audience.
Only a message.
"Your brother received the consequences of his actions."
That was all.
No explanation.
No justice.
No bodies.
Karl laughed.
A hollow, broken sound.
He left the academy that day with something torn loose inside his chest.
A Whisper in the Dark
Karl searched cities, mercenary guilds, information brokers—anyone.
Until one night, when a man in a black cloak appeared before him as if stepping out of shadow itself.
"Karl Kael," the man said calmly. "Do you want the truth?"
Karl's hand trembled.
"Your brother was killed by a boy named Liam," the cloaked man continued. "The Principal's disciple. That is why no one dares help you."
Karl's breath hitched.
"If you want revenge," the man said softly, "I can take you to someone who will give it to you."
Karl did not hesitate.
"My brother was everything to me," he said, voice breaking. "If he's dead… then tell me—what reason do I have to live?"
The cloaked man smiled beneath the hood.
The Demon Realm
The moment Karl entered the Demon Realm, his mind shattered.
Death Qi.
Dark Mana.
Murderous intent so dense it crushed thought itself.
He collapsed.
His consciousness flickered.
And then—
A presence.
Not loud.
Not violent.
Absolute.
The cloaked man knelt.
"My lord," he said. "This human carries overwhelming resentment toward the Anchor named Liam."
Eyes opened.
The Demon Lord looked at Karl.
"Pathetic," the Demon Lord said.
Still—he extended a finger.
A single drop of blood fell.
The world screamed.
Karl's body twisted, bones reforming, veins igniting with foreign power. His core shattered and rebuilt itself again and again.
First transformation.
Second.
Third.
He did not stop.
By the time he screamed, he had already reached the Seventh Transformation.
He fell to his knees, sobbing, laughing, begging.
"I pledge my loyalty—!"
"Enough," the Demon Lord interrupted coldly. "Stop this disgraceful display."
He turned away.
"Return to the human world," the Demon Lord said. "Massacre them. Feed your hatred. Take your revenge."
Karl stood.
His eyes were no longer human.
Calamity Descends
The invasion was sudden.
Demon generals.
Warped beasts.
Corrupted humans.
Cities burned.
Mana towers collapsed.
Guilds were erased.
Thousands died before the world even understood what was happening.
Karl stood at the center of the destruction, laughing as blood soaked the streets.
"Liam," karl shouted. "Come out."
The Ones Who Must Answer
At the academy, alarms screamed.
The Principal rose from his seat for the first time ,
Liam felt it instantly.
Not danger.
Responsibility.
"This one is yours," the Principal said quietly as they stepped into the collapsing world.
Liam's Red Core pulsed.
Not with excitement.
With resolve.
The first to respond to this invasion were not heroes.
They were experts.
Five– and Six–Transformation cultivators.
Veteran mercenaries whose names alone once ended wars.
Academy teachers who had survived countless calamities.
They arrived in force.
They died faster.
Karl did not fight like a human.
He moved like a wound tearing through reality—dark mana erupting with every step, Demon Realm laws bleeding into the human world around him. His very presence weakened formations, shattered coordination, and turned confidence into terror.
A Six-Transformation mercenary lunged.
Karl did not even look at him.
Death Qi surged.
The man aged a hundred years in a breath and collapsed into dust.
The Fall of Order
The noble houses reacted next.
Not with armies.
With walls.
Grand defensive arrays sealed estates shut. Barrier after barrier rose as nobles trapped themselves inside their own lands, abandoning cities, abandoning civilians, abandoning everything except survival.
"Protect the bloodline."
"Preserve the future."
Those words echoed behind sealed gates while cities burned outside.
The world learned something cruel that day—
Power without responsibility is cowardice wearing a crown.
Futile Resistance
Academy teachers fell one by one.
Mercenary captains bled out in ruined streets.
Even coordinated strikes barely slowed the demon generals accompanying Karl.
And Karl?
He laughed.
"Is this all?" he shouted, standing atop a mountain of corpses. "This world deserves to burn!"
The sky darkened.
A city's core cracked.
And then—
Everything stopped.
The Arrival
The pressure vanished.
Not dispersed.
Overwritten.
A single step echoed across the battlefield.
The Principal stood in the air, hands clasped behind his back, eyes calm.
Beside him—
Liam.
The Red Core pulsed like a beating heart.
The undead legion emerged silently behind him—death knights forming ranks, dread mages hovering, shadows crawling across the ground like living things.
Karl's smile twitched.
"So you finally came," he said.
The End of the Invasion
The fight was not a battle.
It was an execution.
The Principal erased demon generals with gestures so precise they never understood they were dying.
Liam moved like inevitability.
Every demon he killed did not fall.
It rose.
Shadows chained corpses.
Mana screamed.
The undead army expanded mid-battle.
Karl attacked.
And for the first time—
He was pushed back.
Their clash cracked the land, mana storms tearing the sky apart. Karl's power was vast, unstable, borrowed.
Liam's was controlled.
Anchored.
When Karl finally fell to one knee, coughing black blood, the battlefield was silent.
Liam raised his hand.
Then stopped.
"I won't kill you," he said.
Karl looked up, confused, furious.
"Death is too easy," Liam continued. "You'll live. You'll remember."
Chains of necromantic law wrapped around Karl, sealing his power, crushing his transformations into dormancy.
The invasion ended.
The world breathed again.
The Theft
They never reached the prison.
Reality folded.
Shadow poured into the space between heartbeats.
The black-cloaked man appeared behind Karl.
"Well done," he said pleasantly. "You survived longer than expected."
The Principal turned—
Too late.
Space tore open like fabric.
The cloaked man grabbed Karl by the shoulder.
"Your hatred isn't finished yet," he whispered. "My lord still has plans for you."
Karl screamed—not in pain, but rage—as he was pulled away.
Then—
Nothing.
Silence.
Liam exhaled slowly.
Around them, mercenaries helped civilians from the rubble—some wounded, some barely standing, none retreating until the last survivor was safe.
Academy instructors moved through the battlefield with grim efficiency, shielding students, evacuating the injured, sealing unstable mana zones.
No hesitation.
No retreat.
Liam's gaze darkened.
He turned to Arvane.
"Mercenaries fight because people pay them," Liam said."They still stayed."
Arvane did not answer.
"The Academy protects its students," Liam continued."That's responsibility."
He clenched his fist.
"Then why," he asked quietly, "are the lords hiding behind barriers?Why are kings silent?Why did the royal bloodlines seal themselves away…"
His voice sharpened.
"…just because the enemy was stronger?"
The battlefield was silent.
Arvane looked out over the ruined city.
"Because," he said calmly, "their power exists to rule peace—not confront catastrophe."
Liam frowned. "That's not leadership."
"No," Arvane agreed. "It's inheritance."
He finally met Liam's eyes.
"Lords and kings govern stability.When instability appears, they wait for institutions like us… or men like you."
Liam's jaw tightened.
"So they rule the world," he said, "but don't protect it."
Arvane's expression did not change.
"They survive it."
The Red Core pulsed—slow, heavy.
Liam looked back at the battlefield.
Then spoke softly.
"My world had tyrants," he said."This one has cowards."
Arvane allowed himself a faint smile.
"Careful," he said. "That realization is how Anchors begin making enemies."
Aftermath
The battlefield lay in ruins.
The Principal closed his eyes slowly.
"Now you see," he said. "Why Anchors are never allowed peace."
Liam stared at the place Karl vanished.
The Red Core pulsed.
Not with victory.
With warning.
Somewhere beyond the world—
Laughter echoed.
And the game continued.
.