"Ready?" Nyx asked, turning back one final time. His eyes scanned the forest behind them—not just trees and dirt, but the crucible that had shaped them. What began as a march into the unknown had become something else entirely.
They hadn't just survived the forest—they'd changed in it.
Theo, once a student swinging steel with stiff arms, now moved with purpose. His sword no longer clashed—it sang. The blade wasn't just a tool anymore. It was his. And if someone claimed he could cut through mountains, no one in the group would laugh.
Reina, the timid girl who had flinched at her own shadow, had found her light. She'd discovered what it meant to stand beside others, to trust, to speak without fear. The merchant's daughter had turned radiant—and if needed, ruthless.
Ruby, thrown into this chaos by fate, had forged her own will along the way. The flame in her eyes now had direction. She didn't speak much of her next goal, but the fire there? It was clear. And it burned.
Valon… he still carried guilt like a wound that wouldn't close. But beneath it, rage simmered. Not blind fury—focused fury. He wasn't chasing revenge anymore. He was preparing. Whatever threat came next, he'd meet it head-on. For the people beside him. For the one who had once saved him from himself.
And then—there was Samantha and Nyx. Two souls with unresolved demons, broken pasts, and unfinished business. But one thing was absolute: the next steps they took would reshape them. Whether it was for justice… or vengeance, that was still to be seen. But they shared a conviction now—this journey would not end quietly.
Nyx turned forward again. No more words.
He raised his hand, violet mana swirling around his palm. A portal bloomed before them, deep and vast, humming with arcane force.
Without hesitation, he stepped through it. And one by one, they followed.
---
They stepped out of the portal, landing just a short distance from the towering gates of the Royal Capital.
Even from here, the grandeur was unmistakable—spires reaching skyward, banners fluttering in the breeze, and the distant hum of life buzzing through the air like a heartbeat. The capital was alive… and utterly unaware of the storm about to walk through its gates.
"System skills are basically cheats," Nyx muttered under his breath, dusting his coat as he looked toward the skyline. "Shame there's a limit per day."
The group began walking, taking in the sights with a mix of awe and wariness. But just as they neared the inn closest to the city's outer district, an all-too-familiar presence blocked their path.
Standing right in front of the entrance, arms crossed and face twitching beneath a strained smile, was Renald, the Guildmaster himself.
"Well, well… look what the cat dragged in," Renald said, his voice dipped in honey and rage. "You little shits sure know how to make an entrance. Shall we talk?"
Nyx barely glanced at him. "Careful, old man. Your heart's gonna rupture if you keep bottling all that in." He stretched lazily. "We're hungry. Tired. Thirsty. You wanna chew me out, do it over food. Or don't. Whatever."
And just like that, he strolled past the fuming Guildmaster and walked into the inn.
"...Fine," Renald gritted out, his temple visibly throbbing as he followed behind, the group exchanging hesitant glances before trailing after.
Inside, the meal was hearty, the ale cold, and the tension thicker than a brick wall. Nyx, of course, was unfazed—he ate like he hadn't just pissed off one of the most respected men in the kingdom.
Renald, meanwhile, sat across the table, red-faced, fists clenched, veins pulsing.
Only after Nyx finished his last bite did he finally look up. "So," he said casually, "how've you been, Guildmaster?"
Renald stared at him, deadpan. "You're seriously asking me that?"
"It was symbolic," Nyx shrugged. "You wanted representatives for the Academy. I delivered. Where's the issue?"
"You have a real talent for giving people strokes, you know that?" Renald growled. Then his glare shifted toward Samantha, Ruby, and Valon. "And you three? You just followed him like ducklings?"
Nyx leaned back, unfazed. "I took them. Got a problem with that?"
Renald stood abruptly, chair scraping against the wood. "Whatever. Let's just leave it at that." He started walking off but paused by the door. "But listen, brat—next time you pull a stunt like this, I'm tying you up and throwing you into the bottom of the ocean. Personally."
Then he was gone.
Theo and Reina remained frozen, jaws slightly slack. This was Renald. The legendary Guildmaster. War incarnate. And Nyx just... played him like a fiddle?
"Old man's got serious anger issues," Nyx muttered with a smirk.
But the smirk didn't last.
In the blink of an eye, a blade was at his throat—cold, sharp, and terrifyingly close. The group jumped, but none of them could even sense the figure now standing behind Nyx. A shadow cloaked in flowing black, face hidden, hand steady on the hilt of a blade that could end Nyx in a blink.
Still, Nyx didn't flinch. If anything, the smirk came back.
"I didn't expect my crybaby to grow into a damn tigress." he said.
The blade vanished instantly.
And in the next second, he was pulled into a tight embrace from behind, a soft pair of lips pressing against his cheek.
"Nyyyx! You're back!" the girl squealed, her voice bursting with joy, emotion, and a teasing edge that only someone close could carry.
"Rhea…" Nyx let out a low chuckle, finally turning as he gently pulled her forward by the wrist. "You've really changed."
"Mhm," she nodded with a soft grin, eyes shimmering with pride—and something far more dangerous. "I trained. Every day. I'm strong enough now… to stand beside you."
Her voice was sweet, almost melodic, but there was steel underneath. The kind that doesn't bend, only sharpens with time. Whatever remnants of the weeping girl he once knew—were gone.
Her gaze locked with his, and in it, there wasn't just affection. There was ownership. Not the clingy, petty kind. The quiet, confident kind that says, I bled for this.
That wasn't the look of a yandere anymore.
It was the look of someone who would burn kingdoms just to keep him safe.
Before anyone could comment, another voice cut through the room—cool, graceful, and unmistakably bored.
"Done playing house with your lover, Rhea? Let's move before that stone-faced brute starts barking again."
Every head turned.
Standing at the far corner of the inn, arms crossed, was a girl draped in black with a moon-silver sash. Her presence was unnervingly calm, like a still lake hiding something ancient underneath.
It didn't take long for the group to recognize her—Luna Veilswil's personal disciple.
And the immediate, collective reaction was:
What the actual hell is she doing here? No one asked it aloud, but their faces said it all.
Rhea gave a casual wave, completely unbothered. "Coming."
Then she turned back to Nyx, looped her arm around his, and yanked him with her like a lioness dragging home her prize.
"Let's go. Sir Karl's waiting."
Nyx didn't resist. He raised an eyebrow but didn't fight it, letting her pull him toward the door. The edge of a smirk played across his lips.
Samantha didn't say a word. She didn't glare. Didn't scoff. She just turned away. But that subtle drop of her shoulders… that flicker in her eyes… It said enough.
The rest of the group followed, still trying to process what kind of fever dream they'd just stepped into.
Valon leaned toward Theo, whispering, "Is it just me, or is everyone around Nyx either terrifying or in love with him?"
Theo replied with a deadpan nod.
"Both."
---
They arrived before a towering manor—old stone, covered in ivy, and wrapped in silence so thick it felt like the building itself was holding its breath.
The moment they stepped past the gate, the air shifted. Like someone had turned the world's thermostat to death chill.
Even Rhea and Luna—unshakable as they were—paused, their bodies tensing involuntarily. A cold shiver crawled up their spines.
"She's at it again," Luna muttered, her voice laced with resignation. Then she raised it without an ounce of hesitation.
"MASTER! THE GUESTS HAVE ARRIVED!"
The silence shattered.
From every direction—corridors, balconies, shadowed doorways—six figures emerged like wraiths from the walls. They didn't speak. Didn't move fast.
But the weight of their presence slammed into the room like thunder.
Their eyes locked with Nyx, and though not a word passed between them, something ancient stirred in the space between those stares. Like a storm being silently acknowledged by the mountains.
A nod was shared. One by one. No orders. No greetings. Just unspoken trust.
And then Karl stepped into view—clad in black, eyes sharp, his expression unreadable… except for the faintest twitch of a smile when he met Nyx's gaze.
"Is everything ready, Karl?" Nyx asked, voice low.
Karl nodded once, slow and firm.
"It's time."