News spread through Apex Academy's digital neural networks faster than the speed of light. Gossip was the most contagious poison in this school.
"B-Rank Boss Appears in an F-Rank Dungeon! Will the Administration Resign?"
"Lucas Sol Destroys a Bishop Alone! A New Hero of Humanity?"
"First-Year Students Nearly Massacred! Security Breach Sparks Debate!"
These headlines echoed across students' tablets, the massive holograms in the cafeteria, and the whispered conversations in the corridors. Everyone was searching for a hero, and Lucas Sol had given them exactly what they wanted. Yet behind this digital noise and the hollow cries of victory, far more personal and darker dramas were unfolding in the sterile silence of the infirmary.
[Location: Academy Infirmary – VIP Wing, Room 101]
The room smelled of disinfectant and fresh flowers. Lucas Sol sat upright on the bed, grimacing as a young healer nurse applied a seaweed-scented green ointment to the deep burn marks on his shoulder. His upper body was bare, and bruises, cuts, and chain-shaped scars marked his skin like medals of war. But the deepest wound was not on his body—it was in his mind.
That final strike… he still could not understand how or why the Bishop's impenetrable defense had fallen. The taste of victory lingered bitterly on his tongue.
BANG!
The infirmary door slammed open, straining its hinges. A girl burst inside—flame-red hair in disarray, her face blazing with fury, beneath which a deep, barely concealed fear trembled.
Seraphina "Sera" Blaze.
Rank: 4. Codename: The Crimson Dragon.
Breathless, Sera rushed to Lucas's bedside. Her eyes scanned his injuries like a sensor, her expression darkening with every bruise.
"Which idiot did this to you?" she snarled. Her voice shook, small sparks of fire dripping uncontrollably from her fingertips. "I'll burn that damn cave to ashes! I'll burn the administration that put that Bishop in there!"
Lucas looked at her with a tired, gentle smile.
"Calm down, Sera. Please. I'm fine. Just a few scratches and a lot of exhaustion."
"Scratches?" Sera's voice cracked. She reached out to touch the darkened chain mark on his shoulder, then stopped at the last second. Her fingers hovered in the air, as if she were afraid he would shatter if she touched him.
"That mark… it goes to the bone, Lucas! You were almost dead! A B-Rank Boss… you never should have gone in there. When that door closed… I…"
She couldn't finish the sentence. The mere thought of Lucas dying was enough to steal her breath.
"We shouldn't have," Lucas admitted, averting his gaze. "But we did—and we came back out. Elena, Titus, Jin… they all did amazing. Without them, you wouldn't have even found my body."
Sera crossed her arms tightly and turned toward the window, trying to hide the redness on her face and the moisture in her eyes.
"Of course. The Ice Queen was there. I'm sure she was very… helpful. Her and that cursed perfection of hers."
The jealousy in her voice was so obvious that anyone but Lucas could have noticed it.
"We wouldn't have made it out without her, Sera. That's a fact," Lucas said honestly. Then he paused. His eyes drifted back to the memory of the dark cave.
"But there was something else… something not written in the report."
Sera glanced back at him, curiosity flickering.
"What do you mean?"
"That final moment…" Lucas said, staring at his hands—the same hands that had unleashed Dawnbreak.
"I poured everything—my power, my soul—into the blade. But the Bishop's shield was still active. That shield was B-Rank, Sera. My strength couldn't even scratch it. Yet a split second before my strike landed… the shield vanished. It didn't break. It didn't crack. It just… disappeared. Erased from the universe. As if someone had opened an invisible door for me."
Sera frowned, trying to think analytically.
"Maybe the Bishop ran out of mana? Or that archer kid—Jin, was it? He hit some stone. Maybe the effect was delayed?"
"Maybe," Lucas said, unconvinced. He shook his head slowly.
"But something inside me says there was someone else there. Someone we couldn't see. A shadow protecting us."
Sera sat beside him and punched his shoulder hard—though the blow carried more affection than force.
"You've taken too many hits, Sun Child. Your brain's gone soft. Stop inventing ghosts. Get some rest. Next time…"
She clenched her fist, blue flames spilling out and raising the room's temperature.
"…I'm coming with you. And if I have to, I'll turn that dungeon into hell to protect you."
[Location: Blackwood Estate – Private Waiting Lounge]
On the top floor of the infirmary, in a dim room reserved exclusively for "Blue Blood" nobles—filled with velvet sofas, antique paintings, and expensive drinks—the air was far heavier, almost suffocating.
Draven Blackwood sat cross-legged in a leather chair at the center of the room. In his hand, he slowly swirled a crystal glass of blood-red wine—or perhaps the actual blood of some rare monster—in a hypnotic rhythm.
Rank: 3. Codename: The Blood Prince.
Across from him stood Titus, his arm in a cast, his face swollen, a neck brace wrapped around his throat. Despite his massive build, he looked small under Draven's presence, like a guilty child.
"So…" Draven said. His voice was as soft as silk, yet as cold and sharp as a scalpel.
"You're telling me that fool Lucas Sol not only survived, but became a hero by single-handedly killing a Bishop—one of the most accursed creatures in history."
Titus lowered his head, eyes fixed on the carpet.
"I'm sorry, my lord. That thing… it was too strong. I couldn't even move. My bones were shattered."
Draven set the glass down sharply on the table. Clink.
The sound echoed through the room like a gunshot.
"I didn't expect you to kill it, Titus. I know you're not an idiot. What I expected was for Lucas's perfect, 'invincible' image to crack. For him to struggle, make a mistake, maybe lose a teammate—so that mask of 'I save everyone' would fall."
Draven rose to his feet, his black cloak flowing behind him like a living shadow. He began circling Titus slowly, like a shark.
"What about the others? That pathetic one… what was his name? Arthur?"
Titus grimaced in disgust.
"Him? That runt was a complete parasite, my lord. He hid in the back the whole fight, cowering at the girls' skirts. Shaking with fear. Completely useless."
"Did he die?"
"No," Titus said bitterly. "You won't believe it, but despite all that chaos—even when the ceiling collapsed—he didn't have a single scratch. I broke my arm, Lucas nearly died, Jin threw up… but that kid? He walked out like he'd just been on a Sunday picnic. Just a little dusty."
Draven stopped. His steps ceased. His eyes narrowed.
"No scratches?"
"None, my lord. In fact…" Titus hesitated, dredging up an unsettling memory.
"I roughed him up a bit before entering the dungeon. I expected him to flinch, to cry. But the way he looked at me… Empty. Completely empty. Like he wasn't even looking at me—like he was staring through me at the wall behind. For a moment… I felt a chill."
Draven took a sip of his wine. His eyes gleamed.
An F-Rank emerging unscathed from a B-Rank battle—especially one with area-wide attacks—was statistically impossible. Luck had limits. Either he was an unparalleled coward who had fled miles away from the fight… or—
"Lucky insect," Draven said, dismissing the matter.
But in the darkest, most paranoid corner of his mind, he carved the name Arthur Knox in crimson letters.
"Go and recover, Titus. Next time, don't remain in Lucas's shadow. Otherwise…"
Draven's shadow stretched unnaturally, twisting against the light into the shape of a serpent that coiled around Titus's ankles and throat.
"…I will bury you in the shadows myself. And there is no return from there."
Titus swallowed in terror, his face drained of color, and hurried out of the room, almost running.
Left alone, Draven gazed out the window at the statue in the center of the campus—Apollo Sol, Lucas's father.
"The Bishop's shield…" he murmured. Memories surfaced from his family's forbidden archives.
"Raw power alone isn't enough to break it. You must destroy the Seal Stones. And those stones are hidden. Lucas couldn't have known. He only knows how to strike."
A dangerous smile curled on his lips.
"Something happened in that cave—something not written in the report. Even Lucas doesn't understand it. There was a puppeteer. And I… will find out who was holding the strings."
[Location: Arthur's Room]
Meanwhile, I lay on my bed in my small, standard student room on the far side of campus—light-years away from Draven's luxury. The lights were off, with only the pale glow of a streetlamp seeping inside. In my hands was the old, leather-bound book—the only treasure I had "stolen" from the dungeon.
The Journal of the Forbidden God.
I touched the intricate, magically sealed lock on its cover.
Grim, I thought. Open it.
Black sludge flowed from my finger, slipped into the keyhole, and devoured the internal mechanism—the complex magical circuits—like acid.
Click.
The book opened with a dusty sigh.
The pages were yellowed, their edges burned. Most of the text was written in an ancient, forgotten language.
But I knew this language.
Because I had invented it.
This was the novel's "Ancient Tongue (Elderspeak)."
My eyes raced across the pages—spell formulas, hidden dungeon maps, coordinates of lost weapons. Every page was worth a fortune. But near the end, the handwriting changed—more hurried, more chaotic. And on the very last page, I found a note that looked as if it had been written with fresh ink.
"History does not repeat itself. History is rewritten.
If you are reading this… then you are an 'Error' as well.
Welcome, Author."
My eyes widened. My breath caught in my throat.
I hadn't written this. Not in any draft. Not in any version of the novel. This book was supposed to be just an item—not a letter speaking directly to me.
I snapped the book shut and threw it onto the bed as if it had burned my hand. My heart pounded against my ribs.
Was there someone else in this world—another outsider, another being altering the script?
Or was this the world's way of saying, I see you. I know what you're doing.
I looked out the window at the dark, starless sky. Beneath that sky, I had believed I was utterly alone in this vast world.
I was wrong.
The game was far more complex than I had thought.
And I was not the only player.
Tomorrow night… I would have to face Elena.
But now, an even greater question loomed:
Who wrote that note?