I slowly opened my eyes. The first thing to greet my senses was not the stinging stench of acidic carbolic, nor the metallic aroma of blood and mud that had been my bedfellows in the war trenches for ten years.
The air around me felt warm, steeped in the fragrance of sandalwood incense and incredibly expensive, soothing lavender. I felt the surface beneath my back. It was too soft. Genuine silk, not the rough wool blankets that usually scratched my skin in the Outcast Dormitory.
I shifted my gaze. The ceiling above me was adorned with intricate gold leaf carvings. This was clearly no ordinary academy medical ward. Lysandra Morcant had certainly kept her promise. I was in the exclusive VIP healing facility owned by the Student Senate, a place where the Morcant Faction's jurisdiction held absolute power and Orvelis's assassins could never infiltrate.
I tried to push my body up to sit.
Nothing happened.
I looked down at my right arm. It was wrapped in thick, pristine white bandages from the shoulder down to the fingertips. It felt terribly cold, heavy, and purely like dead weight. There was not the slightest response when my brain commanded it to move.
My veteran brain analyzed this damage clinically. My bicep muscle was severely torn, and my shoulder ligaments were completely severed.
The effects of Virelith's Nerve Suppressant Serum had indeed saved my life in that warehouse, granting me the ability to swing a sword far beyond human limits. However, the serum was now exacting its toll in full.
This eighteen-year-old adolescent body was like a cracked glass cup. If I recklessly pumped my Sanguine Core again in this condition, the pressure of that blood magic would shatter my body into pieces.
"Hah! Try biting this, Bookworm! My bite mark is clearly imprinted. This is pure gold!"
A very familiar, hoarse laugh broke the silence from the corner of the room. I turned my head slowly.
On a maroon velvet sofa, Ragnar sat cross-legged. The giant man had just bitten a Senate-stamped gold coin. His thuggish face beamed with undisguised greed. On the glass table before him lay neatly stacked dozens of Nightbane gold bars, which had now been "laundered" into legal currency by Lysandra's bureaucracy.
"Do not act like a starving primate, Ragnar. You are ruining my concentration," Virelith replied without averting her gaze.
The girl sat in an armchair opposite Ragnar. Her thick glasses, cracked the night before, had been replaced with a new pair framed in thin silver wire. Her hand moved swiftly, writing in a large, expensive leather-bound ledger.
"Three hundred gold coins to rent a high-level private alchemy laboratory for a month," Virelith muttered, calculating rapidly. "Fifty coins for heat-resistant crystal test tubes, one hundred coins for raw herbal extracts... Yes, with the remaining money, I can even buy a magic shield for my workbench."
I leaned my back against the silk pillows again, an irresistible thin smile appearing at the corner of my lips. The "Deck Hound" squad I built was slowly beginning to show its true fangs.
We were no longer a bunch of poor and helpless outcast cadets. We had just robbed Nightbane's financial pillar and made it out alive. They deserved to enjoy this victory.
"Enjoy those coins while you can, Bear, Engineer," I said. My voice still sounded hoarse, but loud enough to halt both their activities.
"Young Master!" Ragnar immediately jumped up from the sofa, his face radiating relief. "Thank goodness you are awake! The Senate healer who treated you said your shoulder looked like it had just been ground by a carriage wheel. You slept for nearly twelve hours."
"How are you feeling, Kael?" asked Virelith, setting down her quill and approaching the bed. Her eyes implied a guilt hidden behind her pragmatism. "I warned you about the side effects of that serum."
"You saved our lives last night, Virelith. Do not apologize for a successful tactic," I interrupted calmly. "This arm is a fair price for destroying Silas."
The temperature inside the VIP room suddenly dropped drastically. My breath formed thin steam in the air. The aromatherapy candles in the corner of the room dimmed.
"A very fair price, I agree. But seeing this tough General lying like a broken doll feels a little pathetic."
A voice as melodious as chiming bells yet as cold as ice drifted from the direction of the door. The room door closed again, and from the shadows, Selena Lune stepped forward. Her black dress rustled softly.
A mysterious and deadly smile adorned her beautiful face. The scent of night flower perfume mixed with the smell of fresh blood belonging to who knows who, faintly emanated from her.
Ragnar reflexively growled, his hand reaching for his waist to find a sword that was not there, while Virelith took a cautious step back.
Selena waved her hand with an elegant shooing motion. "Leave us for a moment, primate and glasses girl. I have a special message from the Duke's Daughter for your master."
I nodded slowly at Ragnar. "Wait outside."
With reluctance and a rough snort, Ragnar grabbed the collar of Virelith's robe and dragged the girl out of the room, closing the thick door behind them.
Selena strolled casually around my bed, her slender fingers tracing the silk sheets. She finally sat on the edge of the bed, right beside my dead right arm. Her obsidian-black eyes stared at me with a flash of insane curiosity.
"Our Middle Path was a massive success, Draven," whispered Selena, her voice steeped in intrigue. "This morning, while you were sound asleep, Lysandra exposed the first five pages of that Ledger at the Student Senate meeting. The faces of the Nightbane representatives turned as pale as corpses. Lysandra confiscated all East Sector trade routes in the name of the law. Orvelis's illegal potion supply line is officially paralyzed."
"Does she suspect you two masterminded the robbery?" I asked flatly.
"Of course," Selena laughed crisply. "But she has no proof. The warehouse is already purple ash thanks to you. And since you are under Morcant's healing jurisdiction now, Orvelis's dog knights cannot touch you."
"Good," I replied, looking straight into her eyes. "Then, why did you come here? I doubt you merely wanted to visit me."
Selena's smile widened. She leaned forward, bringing her face close to my ear. Her black hair tickled my neck.
"Lysandra might care about politics, but I care about potential," whispered Selena. Her black eyes glanced sharply at my bandaged right arm. "A cracked glass cup will not be able to hold boiling blood, General. You need a stronger vessel if you want to survive next month's storm."
I narrowed my eyes. "Get straight to the point, Selena."
The girl straightened her back. "In three days, there will be a dark auction in the underground auction market in the heart of the capital. That area is far outside the authority of Aethelgard Academy. Information from my spies indicates that two incredibly rare materials will be auctioned this week, Troll Heart Marrow and an Ancient Bone Reconstruction Scroll."
My heart beat one tempo faster. As a ten-year veteran, I knew perfectly well the value of those two items. They were forbidden cultivation materials capable of reconstructing human physical limits, reconnecting severed ligaments, and fortifying bones until they were as hard as steel.
Selena stood up, smoothing her black dress gracefully. "Those are things that can patch up your fragile vessel, Kael. I hope the gold we laundered for you is enough to buy one of them."
"Why are you giving me this information?" I asked, halting her steps.
Selena turned at the doorway, smiling in a way that made my goosebumps rise. "Because the Midterm Exam will be exceedingly boring if you die too quickly at Orvelis's hands. I want to see you burn him alive."
The door closed. Selena vanished like a ghost, leaving silence and the fading scent of night flowers in the room.
My brain immediately processed the information.
Selena was right. The Midterm Expedition Exam in the Aethelgard Forest Death Zone was only a month away. Orvelis Nightbane, who was now poor and cornered, would no longer play politics by hiring assassins.
The Duke's Heir would step in directly. If I allowed myself to fight one-handed in the middle of the forest later, the Deck Hound Squad would be utterly slaughtered.
"Ragnar! Virelith! Enter!" I called out with a commander's baritone voice that accepted no argument.
The door opened swiftly. The two stepped inside. Seeing my hardened facial expression, Ragnar and Virelith immediately realized that their break time was over.
"The party is over," I said coldly, shifting my gaze from the pile of gold to their faces alternately. "We return to war mode."
Ragnar crossed his arms over his chest. "Who is our next target, Young Master?"
"Ourselves," I answered. I stared at my dead right arm. "Next month is the Midterm Exam. The academy curriculum will throw us into the Death Zone. Orvelis will hunt us in broad daylight, with the full force of his faction. If we enter that forest in this condition, we will only be digging our own graves."
Virelith's eyes widened, realizing the gravity of the threat. "You are right. Orvelis will certainly arrange for our group to be isolated."
"Therefore, repairing my physical vessel is an absolute priority," I asserted.
I turned to the bespectacled girl. "Virelith, take as much money from that table as you need. Rent the best private alchemy laboratory you can find tonight. Buy all high-tier equipment. I need you ready to extract the most complex cultivation materials in four days."
Virelith nodded quickly, her scientist instincts igniting instantly. "My laboratory will be ready before dawn breaks tomorrow, Commander."
I then looked at the giant man on my right. "And you, Ragnar."
"Your orders, Kael?" Ragnar grinned, knowing a dangerous mission was about to be dropped onto his shoulders.
"Three days from now, there will be a dark auction in the underground market in the heart of the capital. There are rare materials that can heal and strengthen my arm there. Troll Heart Marrow and a Bone Reconstruction Scroll," I explained quickly.
I pointed to the stack of gold bars on the table. "Take half of our pure gold. Leave the academy secretly. Infiltrate that capital auction and bring those materials home."
Ragnar picked up a gold bar and weighed it in his hand. "And if some bastard noble bids higher than our gold?"
I returned his gaze with an equally savage smile. My eyes radiated the arrogance and cruelty of a merciless General.
"Buy it if you can," I commanded softly yet incredibly deadly. "Kill and rob if forced. Do whatever you must do out there in the world, Ragnar, as long as those items reach Virelith's hands on time."
"Hahaha! Finally, a mission that truly suits my natural talents," Ragnar's laughter boomed, scooping the gold into his leather sack.
I leaned my head back against the silk pillow, staring at the gold-carved ceiling. The sabotage war to tear down Orvelis's finances was complete, and we emerged victorious. However, that victory would mean nothing if I lacked the strength to sever his head directly.
The engine of preparation to welcome the storm had been cranked. Reforging this glass cup was no longer a mere option, but an absolute requirement to survive in the true slaughterhouse. I would ensure that when Orvelis came looking for me in the Death Zone later, my right arm would be ready to rip his heart right out of his chest.