Eliza POV
Her shadow trembled.
The irritation rolling through it was unmistakable.
"This child!"
The hiss came without warning.
Then her presence began to press down on Aeron.
Not all at once.
Gradually.
As though she were testing the limits of what he could endure.
D-Rank.
Then higher.
Each sub-rank added a little more weight.
C-.
C.
C+.
Still, Eliza let it happen.
'Let's see what you can do, Aeron Araxys.'
She watched him carefully.
His jaw tightened first.
Then his shoulders.
His smile remained, but the strain beneath it had become impossible to miss.
And his eyes were no longer on her.
They were fixed on her shadow—
on the place where her guardian resided.
'Did his body go through some kind of reinforcement?'
The pressure was nearing B-.
A threshold where strength began to increase exponentially.
Before it could go any further, Eliza felt space tighten around her.
No.
Space locked around her.
It was nowhere near enough to truly restrain her, but—
'How did Iori learn this skill?'
A black rift opened behind Aeron.
"Miss Clark, I don't think Aeron is comfortable with what you're doing."
Iori stepped out of the portal.
The blanket was still wrapped around his body.
But his eyes were completely black.
Pitch black.
As though black holes had opened within them.
"Please tone it down, Miss Clark."
'So he doesn't know about my shadow.'
Aeron's teeth were gritted.
A thin line of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.
The smile was gone.
But there was still admiration in his eyes.
Eliza blinked.
'Wait.'
'Admiration?'
'In this situation?'
She shook her head once, signalling for her shadow to stop.
The pressure vanished.
Iori's black eyes faded back into their usual hazy green-purple, and he returned to his corner of the gym as though nothing had happened.
As though he had not just locked space around an S-Rank mage.
Eliza looked back at Aeron.
"A handful of secrets?" she asked. "Why not all?"
Aeron lifted a hand and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.
"Would you tell me all of yours?"
Silence followed.
One of Eliza's delicate brows arched.
"I wonder where you get your confidence from."
She did not like the unease slowly creeping through her body.
"Let us move on to the second question."
Aeron said nothing.
Eliza's gaze sharpened.
"What rank is your mana core, and what happened to your presence? Why is it so... blank?"
Aeron's casual smile returned.
"I count one... two... three questions there."
Her shadow darkened at once.
"I like to be direct."
"Then so do I."
His answer came easily.
Too easily.
"Fine," Eliza said. "Answer them."
Aeron tilted his head slightly.
"First, I am still D-minus."
Eliza's eyes narrowed.
'Then why does he not feel like one?'
"My trait evolved in the dungeon."
'A lie.'
She knew it at once.
But Eliza said nothing.
Aeron's lips curled a little further, and that alone made her narrow her eyes even more.
"It feels blank because the trait is passive and simply decreases my presence."
He paused, pursing his lips as if considering whether to elaborate.
"By a large margin."
Eliza studied him for a moment longer.
Then she said, "Aeron, I will be direct."
"Spar me."
Eliza rolled her wrists once.
Aeron's expression dropped.
The sight made her lips curl faintly.
'It seems this was beyond his prediction.'
Amusing.
"If I judge you to be above a certain level," she said, "then you may skip classes and do as you please."
Aeron's eyes flickered.
"Like Iori?"
"Yes."
For the first time, he looked genuinely tempted.
Then he smiled again.
"No. How about this instead?" he said. "If I exceed your standards, you and her sign the vow."
For a moment, there was silence.
Then Eliza's shadow bubbled.
Quite literally.
Darkness thickened beneath her feet, turning dense and viscous as the gym lights dimmed around them.
Something began to rise from within it.
An amalgamation of shadow.
No features.
No face.
Only a mass of pure black given form.
"Who do you think you are?"
Her voice came out sharp.
A hiss wrapped in fury.
Iori was already beside Aeron.
'This is getting out of hand.'
Eliza exhaled slowly.
"Let me see the terms."
"Eliza!"
"There is nothing harmful in it," Aeron said at once.
He reached into his subspace and pulled out a feathered pen.
Beside him, Iori calmly drew out two scrolls from a rift as though he were Aeron's personal secretary.
Eliza's eye twitched.
Aeron continued as if this were the most ordinary negotiation in the world.
"Simply put, you will not share information about me with anyone other than those who sign this contract."
He paused.
"That is the only term."
The black mass turned toward him with what could only be described as a glare.
"Your grandfather will never allow this," it hissed.
.
"Why not?"
Everyone froze.
The voice had come from behind Aeron.
A faint fragrance of burnt wood accompanied his appearance, and the mana in the air shifted as though welcoming him.
He stood there in a set of black silk pyjamas, white hair tied into a neat ponytail, yellow slippers peeking out beneath the hem.
He yawned lightly, as if he had only just woken up.
'Grandpa?'
The mass of darkness immediately bowed, then sank back into Eliza's shadow without another sound.
Eliza frowned and crossed her arms.
"Principal, what are you doing here?"
Aeron, meanwhile, had gone completely still.
For the first time since this conversation had begun, he looked genuinely blank.
Then, with visible effort, he turned around and forced an extravagant smile onto his face.
"Ah, Principal. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"Eliza, you may drop the pretences. This boy already knows we are related."
This time, she froze.
'H-H-How?'
Eliza loved her grandfather.
Truly.
But only in private.
Outside, he was the complete opposite of everything she tried to embody.
She would never speak badly of him.
But if she had to describe Principal Caelum Voss in one sentence, it would be this:
He embraced the concept of freedom far too much.
For example—
showing up in black silk pyjamas and yellow slippers.
So yes, she was caught off guard.
But more than that, the second-hand embarrassment was unbearable.
Eliza wanted, with startling sincerity, to bury her face in a pillow.
Only in front of her grandfather could her mask crack this thoroughly.
So she stood there like a mannequin, her senses searching for anywhere to flee.
Then he called her name.
"Eliza, I will deal with Aeron privately."
Her mask resealed at once, and she frowned.
"Why?"
"It's just another one of those things."
"But—"
Pure mana swept around her.
She tried to resist.
She truly did.
But her view had already changed, and a moment later she was standing outside the gym, staring at the locked door.
Then she did something truly unlike herself.
She stomped her foot, gnashed her teeth, and glared at the door.
"I am no longer a chiiilddd!"
The complaint came out with all the dignity of a child denied her favourite dessert.
And once it started, it did not stop.
A long chain of indignant muttering followed beneath her breath.
Then she heard a faint rustle nearby.
Eliza went still.
Further down the corridor stood what looked like a blanket-wrapped caterpillar, hazy green-purple eyes fixed on her silent war against the door.
Iori.
Her soul almost left her body.
'Shadow?! You didn't tell me!'
'Bodyguard, not servant.'
Even through the mental voice, the amusement was obvious.
Eliza groaned inwardly, then straightened her back at once, her expression smoothing over as though nothing had happened.
As though she had not just thrown a private tantrum in front of one of the strangest students in the academy.
She felt Iori's stare linger on her for a moment longer before it finally drifted away.
'I will remember this humiliation.'
Her jaw tightened.
Then her eyes narrowed slightly.
'Aeron.'
'Araxys.'
Her shadow shivered.
But this time, it was only holding back laughter.
.
.
Xavier POV
Xavier lay sprawled across his bed, staring up at the ceiling.
He had recovered quite some time ago.
His watch buzzed.
Another message from the group chat.
He had been tagged again.
But he did not open it.
His arm fell back onto the mattress.
'D-minus.'
That was the current rank of his mana core.
Lyra and now Kyle had both reached C-Rank.
A whole major rank above him.
The punishment had been severe.
It had strengthened his mana vessels, yes—
but that was all.
In the end, he had sacrificed two sub-ranks to save them all.
Slowly, Xavier reached one hand toward the ceiling.
Not to grasp anything.
Just to hold it there.
He imagined their faces.
Their smiles.
Their laughter.
The simple happiness of knowing they were all still here.
A smile found its way onto his own.
Small.
Tired.
Real.
'Yeah.'
His fingers curled slightly in the empty air.
'I'd do it again.'
The thought came without hesitation.
Without regret.
But after it—
silence returned.
'Do I even have to?'
They had kept moving.
He had fallen behind.
Lyra was C-Rank.
Kyle was C-Rank.
And he was still here.
Then his watch began to vibrate against his wrist in a low, steady hum.
A video call.
Xavier stared at it for a second before answering.
The screen lit up—
and the first thing he saw was an upside-down forehead.
"Is this thing working?"
Xavier blinked.
Only his father's forehead and one eye were visible.
Then the screen jolted violently.
A woman's hand smacked the man on the wrist, and a moment later the camera was taken from him entirely.
His mother's face filled the screen.
The moment she saw Xavier, her eyes lit up.
"Honey," she said softly, "how are you?"
A loving smile crept onto Xavier's face before he could stop it.
"I am good, Mom."
Her expression immediately turned knowing.
"Are you sure? You look tired, honey."
Before Xavier could answer, his father shoved himself halfway back into frame.
"Ha! My son, tired? That's pro-proper—propri—"
He frowned.
"What's the word again?"
His mother sighed.
"Preposterous."
At once, his father's face brightened.
"Yes! Property!"
His mother closed her eyes.
Xavier's lips twitched.
"My son could never get tired so easily," his father declared proudly. "He's my boy."
"This is not about you," his mother said, pushing his face aside with one hand. "This is about our son."
His father pulled back, offended for all of half a second.
Then he raised a finger.
"Well, my boy, remember to spread the Granger surname with honour!"
A sharp glare from his wife hit him at once.
He froze.
Then gulped.
Silence followed for half a breath.
And then Xavier laughed.
It started small.
A quiet sound.
But it grew louder.
Looser.
Freer.
More honest.
The kind of laugh that only came when something inside him finally unclenched.
He laughed there on his bed while his parents bickered on the screen, and for a moment the heaviness in his chest eased.
Both of them went quiet and looked at him.
Their expressions softened at once.
His mother's voice gentled further.
"Honey... is everything alright at school?"
Xavier looked at them, still smiling.
"Yeah, Mom."
He let out a small breath.
"I'm alright."
That seemed to reassure her, though not completely.
"That's good to hear."
Then, for some reason, she lowered the camera for a moment and pulled out what looked like an actual sheet of paper.
Xavier stared.
"Mom..."
His father noticed too and leaned in.
"Wait. Is that the list again?"
She ignored both of them, cleared her throat, and began reading with the seriousness of someone delivering royal decree.
"Have you been eating well, sleeping well, drinking enough water, exercising regularly, taking breaks, stretching properly, and—"
His father snatched the paper from her.
She gasped.
"Give that back!"
He glanced at it once, made a face, then ripped it cleanly in half.
"Delulu," he said gravely.
Xavier laughed again.
This time even harder.
His mother looked scandalised.
His father, pleased with himself, leaned closer to the screen and pointed directly at Xavier.
"Anyway, son. Make sure you're doing well."
His goofy expression softened.
"Be focused. Be disciplined. Be brave."
Then his voice lowered.
"But most importantly... be true."
Xavier's smile faded into something quieter.
More serious.
"True to yourself," his father finished.
For a moment, Xavier said nothing.
Then he nodded.
"Yes, Father."
His mother gently took the phone back.
"And take care of yourself too, honey," she said. "Not just everyone else."
Something in Xavier's chest tightened.
Not painfully.
Warmly.
"I will, Mom."
He looked at both of them for a moment longer.
Then he drew in a deep breath.
"And... yeah. Thanks for calling."
His voice came out quieter than before.
"I really needed this."
Neither of them made a joke.
Neither of them brushed it aside.
They only smiled at him—
full of warmth, pride, and a love so steady it seemed to reach him even through the screen.
A love that quieted the restless parts of him.
His mother smiled first.
"We know, honey."
His father gave him a broad grin and a firm nod.
"You've got this, my boy."
Xavier's throat tightened slightly.
He swallowed it down and smiled back.
"Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad."
He hesitated for only a second.
Then his smile softened.
"I love you both."
His mother's eyes warmed even further.
"We love you too, honey."
His father leaned back into frame at the last second.
"Naturally. You're our greatest creation."
His mother slapped his arm.
"Don't make it weird."
Xavier laughed under his breath.
The screen darkened a moment later.
But the smile on his face remained.
And somehow—
the room no longer felt quite so empty.
Xavier stared at the dark screen for a moment longer before letting his hand fall back to the bed.
The silence returned.
But it no longer felt hollow.
It felt still.
Steady.
He exhaled slowly and looked up at the ceiling again.
Lyra was C-Rank.
Kyle was C-Rank.
And he was still D-minus.
The gap remained.
That had not changed.
But something inside him had.
The heaviness in his chest had eased.
Not because the problem was gone.
Not because he had caught up.
But because he remembered something simple.
He was not doing this alone.
A small smile touched his lips.
Then, slowly, it faded into something firmer.
His fingers curled against the bedsheets.
'I was happy to pay that price.'
'I would pay it again.'
He closed his eyes briefly.
The image of their smiles returned to him.
Alive.
Safe.
Laughing.
Then his hand tightened.
'But next time...'
His eyes opened.
The softness in them was gone.
What remained was calm.
Clear.
Burning.
'Next time, I won't be the one left behind.'
Xavier sat up.
The room was quiet around him, but his heart no longer drifted with it.
It beat with purpose.
With direction.
With want.
Not jealousy.
Not bitterness.
Hunger.
The good kind.
The kind that sharpened rather than consumed.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood.
'Then I'll rise too.'
His gaze shifted toward the window, toward the darkening sky beyond it.
For a moment, he stood there in silence.
Then his jaw set.
'I'll catch up.'
A pause.
His fingers tightened at his side.
'No.'
His mana stirred faintly within him, as though answering the shape of his will.
'I'll go beyond.'
Then came two knocks at his door.
Xavier frowned and crossed the room before pulling it open.
A tall man stood outside.
He looked to be somewhere in his mid-forties, with white hair tied neatly into a ponytail. He wore a set of black silk pyjamas and a pair of yellow slippers.
The contrast was so strange Xavier almost forgot to react.
Still, he offered a small, polite smile.
"Hi. Can I help you?"
The man smiled back, warm and easy.
"Yes, Xavier, you certainly can."
'How does he know my name?'
Xavier's faint smile thinned.
He did not step aside.
Instead, he remained where he was and asked, "And what exactly do you need?"
The man folded his hands behind his back as though this were the most ordinary conversation in the world.
"I need you and a few of your friends to enter a dungeon for me."
Xavier went still.
A questioning crease appeared between his brows.
The man's smile did not fade.
"I thought you wished to grow stronger."
But Xavier's thoughts had already gone elsewhere.
Straight to the worst possibility.
His eyes narrowed.
"What have you done to them?"
His fingers curled at his sides.
His body did not lower into a stance, but tension quietly filled it all the same, ready for any sudden movement.
The man merely looked at him for a moment.
Then he sighed.
"Nothing."
He glanced down at Xavier's clothes.
"Now get changed, unless you plan to enter a dungeon wearing that blue jumper."
Xavier stared at him.
His gaze slowly travelled down the man's silk pyjamas—
then to the yellow slippers.
'What about you?'
The retort rose all the way to his throat.
And stopped there.
Because somehow—
somehow—
the man was wearing the ridiculous outfit with enough confidence to make Xavier feel like the badly dressed one.
.
.
Luke POV
He shut the door in the tall white-haired man in pyjamas' face.
"Crazy old man," he muttered under his breath.
Then the air moved.
A wave of mana swept over him, and the world lurched.
The environment changed in an instant.
Heat slammed into Luke like a stormfront.
Sweat broke across his skin immediately.
"Impervious."
A dense layer of mana surged over him, wrapping around his body in a protective cocoon before fading from sight.
When his vision cleared, all he saw was red.
Not the red of blood.
Not the red of firelight.
A deeper red.
The kind that belonged to things that never cooled.
Boiling magma wound through the land in glowing rivers, carving jagged paths through blackened stone. The air itself looked warped, trembling beneath the sheer weight of the heat. Every breath scorched his throat on the way in, as though even the world here wanted to burn him from the inside.
Luke's back was pressed against a massive boulder, its surface rough and blistering hot even through his clothes.
And in the distance—
three volcanoes towered over the horizon.
Not one.
Three.
Each of them belched black ash into the sky while molten lava spilled down their sides in blazing streams, painting the land in shifting orange and crimson.
Then the ground shook.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
And with it came three long, scraping hisses that tore through the air and raked across his ears.
Luke's eyes widened.
'What the actual f—'
Then he felt them.
Five familiar presences.
Appearing around him one by one.
His head snapped up.
And suddenly, Luke understood the real problem.
He had not been dropped into hell alone.