When evening fell, the walls of Kelworth rose into view. High stone ramparts gleamed in the sunset, guards saluting from the battlements as horns echoed in welcome. Below, the city's streets bustled—but much like Marlowe, everything looked suspiciously polished. The people in the markets wore neat, freshly laundered clothes; the streets were spotless, unnaturally so.
By the time the griffins touched down inside Kelworth's mansion courtyard, the sun was setting. The city lord greeted them with oily enthusiasm, bowing so low his belly nearly touched the ground. His mansion's servants lined up, torches in hand, lighting the path as if the hero himself were royalty.
After a brief welcome, the students were shown to their guest quarters. The nobles among them exchanged glances—they already knew what to expect.
The next morning, Kelworth's city lord personally escorted Pete and a group of curious students through the city. The streets shone with unnatural cleanliness, shopfronts gleamed, and the townsfolk looked almost staged in their perfect health and neat clothes. Children ran by laughing, dressed in garments that looked newly stitched.
Pete was dazzled, smiling ear to ear. "Look at this place! It's even better than Marlowe!" he exclaimed, pointing at the pristine streets.
City lord of Kelworth swelled with pride. "Ah, hero, you honor me. Our city strives for perfection in every corner. No slums, no filth—Kelworth is a jewel of the empire."
Ace and Lucy trailed behind, their two master-ranked guards following like shadows. Lucy whispered, "It's just like Marlowe… everything's too clean, too perfect. No workers, no vendors, no one from outside. Doesn't it bother anyone else?"
"It bothers all of them," Ace muttered. "But no one will say a thing. The nobles know exactly what this is—they just won't ruin their chance to impress Pete."
Lucy lowered her eyes, unsettled.
The other noble students wore faint, polite smiles as they walked, but behind their gazes lingered quiet disdain. They saw through the facade but, like Ace had said, none of them were willing to expose it.
Pete, meanwhile, laughed easily at every boast Kelworth's lord made, utterly blind to the strangeness around him.
The following day, a banquet was held. The lord of Kelworth summoned local merchants, officials, and minor nobles. Their daughters, dolled up and sparkling, fluttered around Pete like moths to a flame.
Everywhere he went, Pete was showered with flattery.
"The hero's presence brings honor to Kelworth!"
"Your smile alone, Sir Hero, inspires hope in us all!"
"Surely the gods themselves have blessed this age, for you to be born into it!"
Pete soaked in every word, cheeks glowing from drink and pride. He laughed heartily, shaking hands, nodding at proposals, basking in the warmth of noble affection.
As the griffins soared away from Kelworth, Sarena's voice rang out across the formation, cutting through the rush of wind with surprising clarity.
"Listen carefully, students!" she called, her tone unwavering despite the gusts. "Our next destination is Linton. But since it's further than the last two stops, we'll be making camp overnight at a prepared base. So steel yourselves mentally—we'll be sleeping in tents this time, not in city mansions."
Her words should have stirred a sense of adventure or excitement, something that echoed through the group like the flickering of a flame. Instead, most of the students groaned softly.
Their enthusiasm had waned over the last few cities, worn down by the endless banquets, the incessant flattery directed toward Pete, and the ever-present nobles who fawned over him.
The once-enthusiastic crowd had begun to look more like weary travelers, exhausted by the pretensions of the highborn and the artificial courtesies of those trying to impress the hero.
By the time the griffins began their descent at noon, touching down for their first rest stop, the mood had already turned sour.
The students, who had once eagerly peered out at the passing landscape, now sat with slumped shoulders, a lackluster air clinging to them.
As the griffins lifted off again and they reached the main base camp that evening, even the most eager of them dragged their feet, their energy dissipating with every step toward the lavish, yet temporary, encampment.
The camp itself was something to behold. Lavish tents, fit for royalty, dotted the landscape, each one furnished with rich, comfortable beds, sturdy wooden tables, wardrobes brimming with supplies, and carpets that muffled footsteps.
It was luxury under canvas—a far cry from the harsh, rugged conditions of a typical field camp. But despite the comfort, the students barely seemed to notice.
Their faces, worn from days of indulgence, lacked the usual wonder they might have expressed if they had encountered this set-up earlier on their journey.
Only Ace, Lucy, and Emelia seemed untouched by the fatigue. They hadn't wasted themselves in banquets or shallow flattery. Their energy stood in stark contrast to the drained faces around them.
Inside his own tent, Ace sat with a cup of tea, the steam rising from the surface in lazy curls.
His silver eyes were calm, yet sharp, scanning the room with a quiet alertness. To the others, the camp was a safe haven, a temporary respite in a journey fraught with tension and uncertainty. The camp was ringed by the academy's finest master-ranked warriors, reinforced by Thornevale's own elite soldiers, each ready to defend against any threat that might arise
But Ace's expression remained sharp, unreadable.
Because he knew what was coming.
Tonight… the cult will make their move.
His thoughts replayed the novel's scene. A handful of first-rate warriors, disguised in shadow, slipping past even master-ranked defenses. It didn't make sense, yet in the book, they had somehow done it—reaching Pete's tent.
The hero had fought clumsily, Catherine had been drawn in by his cries, and in the end, the attackers were killed by the academy's guards. A classic setup to showcase Pete's growing struggles and hero's fate.
But now… Ace was here. And he had already shifted too many pieces.
Would the cult still move the same way? Or had his presence already changed the script?
He set down the cup, his aura tightening like a blade being drawn.
He called softly, "Come in."
The flap rustled, and one of his personal guards entered—silent, disciplined, and waiting for his command. Ace's silver eyes gleamed faintly in the lantern's glow.
The night was deep and silent, the forest beyond the glowing wards whispering only with the sound of insects.
Meanwhile, cloaked in black with only his face visible, Professor Elric slipped toward the edge of the security perimeter. A patrolling academy master-ranked warrior stopped him with a frown.
"Professor Elric? Where are you going this late?"
Elric's lips curled into a smile—one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just clearing my head. The forest air has a way of calming the mind. I'll return shortly."
The warrior hesitated, meeting Elric's gaze but, seeing Elric's authority as a professor, with a curt nod, stepped aside.
Elric walked on, shoulders tight. He cast nervous glances behind him, his steps crunching lightly against the grass. Only when the campfires were far and the glow of wards dimmed did he relax and pick up his pace.
He reached a grove where several trees were marked with faint crosses. Stopping, he exhaled in relief.
Moments later, five hooded figures appeared from the shadows.
"You're late," Elric hissed.
The figures said nothing. Elric pulled out a bundle of academy guard uniforms from beneath his cloak. "Quickly, put these on. I can't stay away long."
The hooded men tore off their cloaks, hastily donning the uniforms. Elric motioned impatiently. "Come. Stay close. No one will question you if you're with me."
They approached the camp together, the hooded men now disguised as guards. Just as Elric expected, the sentries gave them no trouble when they saw him leading the group.
Inside the perimeter, Elric finally allowed himself to breathe, a single, shallow exhale of relief. But just as he turned to deliver his final orders, his body froze.
The space behind him was empty.
The five figures were gone.
Elric blinked rapidly, heart racing. "Did they split up already? Without a signal? " His throat tightened, but he forced calm, muttering to himself, "It's fine… it's fine. They know what to do."
Suppressing his unease, he hurried back to his tent.
Elsewhere, deep in the shadows of the camp, the true scene played out.
Inside Ace's lavish tent, five unconscious figures were slumped against the floor, their wrists and ankles bound tightly with restraints.
Two of Thornevale's master-ranked warriors stood over them, their blades still faintly gleaming from the scuffle. Another warrior knelt, prying open the jaw of one of the intruders.
"My lord," the guard reported softly, "you were right. They had poison pills hidden. Without your warning, we'd have never noticed them."
Small black orbs were carefully extracted from each of their mouths, placed in a vial that shimmered with sealing runes.
Ace, reclining lazily on a cushioned seat, let out a faint yawn. His eyes narrowed, the sharpness within belying his casual tone.
"Good. Make them talk. I don't care how."
"Yes, young master."
The guards bowed, their expressions grim. They dragged the unconscious intruders out, their boots thudding against the ground. One gave a last glance at Ace, but he was already walking to his bed with a yawn as if all of this were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
"Report to me when they spill everything," Ace murmured. "Don't disturb my sleep until then."
The flap closed. Silence returned to the tent, broken only by the faint sound of Ace's steady breathing.
Outside, muffled screams soon began echoing from where the Thornevale warriors worked in the dark.
The next morning, dawn spread pale gold across the camp. The wards shimmered faintly in the light as students stirred awake, groaning about sore backs and tired minds despite the lavish tents.
Professor Elric emerged from his tent looking like he hadn't slept a wink. His eyes were bloodshot, his movements restless, fingers twitching at his cloak.
He scanned the camp, heartbeat hammering. Where is it? Where's the commotion?
There should be chaos. But looking around?
Nothing.
The camp was peaceful.
Students yawned, chatting idly about breakfast. A few griffins squawked impatiently as handlers fed them. Guards stood calmly at their posts, expressions untroubled.
No alarms. No blood. No sign of a struggle.
Elric's throat went dry.
He tugged a nearby academy warrior by the arm. "Was there… any disturbance last night?"
The warrior raised an eyebrow. "Disturbance? No, sir. The perimeter was quiet. Not even a wild beast stirred."
Elric's stomach dropped. He forced a smile. "I see… very good."
The warrior nodded politely and returned to his post.
Elric stood frozen, thoughts spinning. 'Impossible. They were right behind me. I saw them. They put on the uniforms… I led them in myself.'
But no matter how many times he scanned the camp, there was no trace of them. Not even a footprint.