Aamon and his team stepped through the heavy doors of the Adventurers' Association, the lingering weight of the battle still etched into their bodies and expressions. Dust from the haunted manor clung to their cloaks, and a strange stillness surrounded them—as if the events they had survived hadn't quite settled into reality.
They approached the front desk, where the receptionist, a young elven woman with silver-rimmed glasses and neatly tied auburn hair, looked up from her work. She smiled out of habit—until she saw the condition they were in. Aamon silently handed over the mission scroll, followed by a separate parchment: a detailed report chronicling the corrupted spirits, their ambush, and the strange anomalies they had encountered.
Except for one detail.
The secret realm wasn't mentioned.
The receptionist's eyes flicked through the report, her expression turning pale. Her hands trembled as she reached the final lines. When she looked up at Aamon again, her voice was barely a whisper. "You faced corrupted spirits of this level… and returned alive?"
Aamon nodded, calmly and without pride. That only unsettled her more.
Without a word, she spun around and disappeared through a pair of carved mahogany doors deeper in the building. The silence left in her wake was oddly oppressive.
Moments later, heavy footsteps echoed down the stone hallway. The doors creaked open again to reveal a man wrapped in a crimson mantle lined with gold, trimmed beard streaked with grey, and sharp, calculating eyes. His presence alone commanded respect. This was Guildmaster Varek, the leader of Dusk City's Adventurers' Association.
He studied Aamon and his companions for a long moment before speaking. "I had to see you for myself. Not many come back from an encounter with corrupted spirits—especially not a full team."
He took the scroll and read the report silently. His eyes narrowed as he absorbed each word.
"Corrupted spirits... That close to Dusk City? We haven't seen their presence this deep in settled territory for decades." He looked up, voice laced with concern. "This changes things. I'll notify the main cities immediately. If this isn't contained, it could spread like a plague."
He exhaled, slowly, then met Aamon's gaze directly. "You've done a service not just to this city, but to the kingdom itself. You've earned a reward. Ask for what you will—wealth, gear, status. Name it."
Aamon didn't hesitate. "I want knowledge. I want to understand this world—its powers, its systems, and its rules."
Varek blinked. "Knowledge?"
Aamon nodded. "Strength is vital, but power without understanding leads to ruin. I want to grow, not just in force, but in awareness."
A chuckle rumbled from the guildmaster's chest. "That's a rare answer. Most would've asked for a magic sword or a personal mansion."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a shimmering slip of parchment. Intricate arcane seals spiraled along its surface, glowing faintly under the guild hall's light. Constellations formed shifting patterns, and the ink itself seemed to hum.
"This," he said, holding it out between two fingers, "is a ticket for the entrance trial at the Astralis Dominion Academy."
Aamon's eyes widened. "There are academies here?"
"Oh, there are several," Varek said with a smile. "But Astralis is in a league of its own. It doesn't just accept anyone. You need talent, lineage, or… an invitation like this."
He leaned forward slightly. "It's where the strong become legends, where factions court the rising stars, and where history has been shaped more than once. You'll find power, knowledge, and influence within its walls—if you survive the trial."
Aamon's mind was already racing. An academy—an actual institution dedicated to learning and cultivation. A place that could refine their potential and expand their worldview.
"What about Alexia and Yue?" he asked, turning to glance at his companions. "Can they come with me?"
Varek grinned. "That's the perk of being a territory lord. You can take up to ten of your subjects with you into Astralis. They'll be tested too, of course, but your invitation extends to them."
Relief flickered in Aamon's eyes. Alexia and Yue had fought beside him through blood and fire. They were more than comrades—they were family now. Leaving them behind wasn't an option.
Varek handed the ticket over, and as Aamon grasped it, he felt a faint pulse in his hand—like a heartbeat. The paper felt strangely alive.
"Prepare yourselves," Varek said seriously. "The entrance trial is more than just a test of strength. It evaluates your heart, your will, and your ability to rise when broken. Don't take it lightly."
Aamon gave a slight bow. "We won't."
The guildmaster turned to leave, then paused and glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, and Aamon?"
"Yes?"
"There's a reason Astralis is called the 'Dominion' Academy. You're not just going to study. You're stepping onto a battlefield disguised as a school. One where politics, bloodlines, ambition, and secrets mix like oil and fire. Keep your wits sharp."
With that, he left, cloak trailing behind him.
Aamon looked at Alexia and Yue. Both of them seemed thoughtful—Alexia's crimson eyes burned with quiet determination, while Yue's expression was serene, but unreadable.
"Astralis Dominion Academy," Aamon murmured. "Looks like our journey is just beginning."
He tightened his grip on the invitation. This world was vast, its secrets deeper than he imagined. But step by step, he would rise. Not just to survive… but to dominate.
Together.
There are somethings to do before that.
First of all, Aamon knew he needed to remove the secret realm's connection to that area.
The last thing he wanted was for some wandering high-ranking noble, mage, or sect elder from the central regions to stumble upon it during an investigation. If the secret realm was discovered—especially one containing sprites, corrupted spirits, and a 9th Order remnant soul—it could trigger a scramble for control. And once powerful factions caught wind of it, there was no guarantee even the Erilys Kingdom could hold its claim.
And he, who uncovered it? He'd be nothing but a disposable tool or, worse, a threat.
His face remained calm as he walked beside his team, but his mind raced with the weight of possibilities.
Even though the corrupted spirits had been eliminated, the basement where the white portal stood was now a risk. If the guild sent an inspection team or scholars to examine the spiritual residue, they might discover traces of the portal's energy signature.
He had to act fast.
Thankfully, he had a plan.
But he would need Lysara's approval.