Ace's lips curved faintly, but there was no humor in it.
"This was no coincidence," he said at last, his voice quiet but firm. "That attack was a probe — nothing more. A test to see how strong our defenses are. The second strike…" His gaze hardened, almost gleaming in the lantern's glow. "…will come with full force."
The guard, already on edge, stiffened further. His eyes widened in awe and disbelief. 'How could the young master have drawn such conclusions from so little information?'
Ace's lips curled, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. It wasn't one of joy, but of knowing — knowing something the world hadn't yet grasped.
"Tighten security around the camp. Double the patrols, reinforce the perimeter wards. No one slacks, not even for a breath. The attacker won't waste time."
The guard immediately bowed low, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and admiration. To discern so much from a single assault… the young master's brilliance rivals even the high strategists.
"Yes, my lord," the guard said quickly, his voice filled with both fear and reverence. "At once."
He gave a final bow, retreating from the tent as fast as his legs could carry him, the sound of his armor clinking softly fading into the distance.
In the quiet, Ace leaned back, lifting his teacup again. His expression remained calm, though a shadow of tension lingered in his eyes.
The cult will strike again soon. And when they do… He allowed himself a small, almost amused exhale. …we'll see how the so-called hero handles it.
The faint sound of the camp outside carried through the tent walls — students settling in, guards changing shifts, the forest whispering beyond. But within Ace's tent, silence reigned, his white eyes staring into the darkness, already one step ahead of everyone else.
"Yes, my lord," the guard said quickly, his voice filled with both fear and reverence. "At once."
He gave a final bow, retreating from the tent as fast as his legs could carry him, the sound of his armor clinking softly fading into the distance.
Midnight draped the camp in silence. The forest air was crisp, the occasional chirp of insects muffled beneath the heavy weight of the night. The students slept soundly in their lavish tents, unaware of what loomed beyond the perimeter.
Only two did not sleep.
In one corner of the camp, Ace sat calmly at a small table inside his tent, a lantern flickering beside him. His white eyes, serene yet sharp, occasionally flicked toward the window flap. His body was still, but his aura hummed with the quiet readiness of someone waiting for the inevitable.
Across the camp, Pete tossed and turned, sweat dampening his sheets. His holy sword lay on the bedside table, glowing faintly, as if mocking his restless unease. He rolled over again, muttering to himself.
And then—
A low hum rippled through the air, followed by a faint red shimmer expanding outward. Both of them froze. The protective barrier. Activated.
Outside, the sound of boots striking dirt echoed, guards rushing frantically. The thrum of magic pulsed in the air.
Ace sighed softly, as if he had been expecting a guest long overdue. Rising from his chair, he opened the flap of his tent window. His pale eyes caught the flicker of light beyond the barrier — brilliant explosions of fire, whistling ice shards, jagged bolts of lightning. Magic circles flared one after another, a storm of chaos battering against the barrier. Yet not a single sound pierced through. The night inside remained eerily quiet, almost peaceful in its contrast.
Across the way, Pete's tent flap burst open. The hero stumbled out, hair mussed, holy sword unsheathed, its glow illuminating his frantic expression. His gaze darted to the horizon, where beasts and cultists clashed in fury against the invisible wall. He blinked, confused, unable to hear the roars and screams, his jaw tightening as realization struck. The barrier was silencing it.
A few paces away, two Thornevale sages stood in solemn concentration, hands raised as they channeled energy into crimson mana stones glowing atop stands. One stone dimmed, its light flickering, and without hesitation, a sage tossed another fresh mana stone into place. The barrier surged anew, shimmering crimson across the sky.
Pete stormed up to them, his holy sword gleaming as though ready for judgment. His voice rang out, indignant, furious, burning with misplaced righteousness.
"How dare you hide this from me?!" he shouted. "We are under attack and you would keep it from the Hero chosen by goddess?!"
One of the sages, face lined with exhaustion, shot him an irritated glance but still answered with strained politeness.
"This is our duty, Lord Hero. We are sworn to protect the camp where our lord resides. You need not burden yourself with such matters."
Pete's jaw dropped, his face twisting with insult. He pointed his sword at the barrier, anger rising in his chest. "Nonsense! Dispel the barrier—now! I will fight and show the world that evil cannot stand before me!"
The sage's brow furrowed in open annoyance this time. His voice remained calm, but the edge was unmistakable.
"The barrier is not a cage. It stops enemies from entering without permission. If you wish to leave, Lord Hero… step through. No one will stop you."
Pete froze, sword trembling slightly in his grip. The casual dismissal stung worse than any blade. His cheeks flushed red as murmurs of nearby guards drifted in his ears. He grits his teeth, glaring at the sages before spinning on his heel.
He stormed back toward the center of camp, his voice booming theatrically:
"Everyone! Get up! We are under attack!" he bellowed, raising his holy sword high. "This is our time to shine! To show our strength, to show we are worthy! Follow me and let us strike down evil with our own hands!"
Inside his tent, Ace leaned lazily against the window frame, watching the display with quiet amusement. His teacup sat untouched on the table behind him, steam long gone cold.
So predictable. His eyes narrowed slightly, following Pete's glowing figure as the "hero" shouted into the night. Even in the face of death, you dance to their script.
A faint smile touched his lips as the barrier shimmered, another red stone burning out in a sage's hands. The true storm was only beginning.
Pete's voice ripped through the camp, snapping everyone awake. Tent flaps started opening, faces half-asleep, looking pissed. The banquet and the flight had wiped them out—they were all just trying to catch some sleep, not deal with Pete's drama.
"Pete, what's going on?!" one of them mumbled, rubbing their eyes.
Pete shot back, "Look around you and tell me what's going on!"
As their eyes caught the crimson shimmer of the barrier above and the chaos exploding just past it, sleep vanished. The sight was terrifying — monsters surging like a tide, explosions painting the night, the sky itself glowing under magical bombardments.
"Holy crap…" one of them whispered, eyes wide as the gravity of it hit.
Adrenaline shot through their veins. The fear kicked in hard, and in a flash, they were all scrambling back to their tents. Weapons, shields, armor, whatever they could throw on in seconds.
Among them, Sarena and Professor Elric emerged last, but both carried weapons at the ready. Sarena with her blade, runes faintly glowing, and Elric with his slender staff, runes faintly glowing, a grim expression plastered across his face.
Sarena raised her voice, steady and commanding.
"Quiet down."
The frantic students froze, breaths ragged, eyes wide.
"Look around you," she continued, sweeping her sword at the glowing red dome above.
"You are under a barrier. It is meant to protect you. So don't lose your calm."
Her voice, level yet firm, cut through their panic. Slowly, the students began to breathe again. The fear in their eyes softened into relief as they realized — they were safe, at least for the moment. Some even exhaled in shaky laughter, weapons lowering slightly.
But then Pete raised his glowing sword high, eyes blazing, voice thunderous with righteous fire.
"Safe?" he barked. "No! This is not safety — this is cowardice! Look at the monsters outside! Look at the chaos! Do you think hiding behind guards makes you strong?!"
The students turned to him, his words stirring the fire of their fear into something else. His stance was heroic, his sword gleaming like a beacon.
"This is our chance! Our test! If we cower here, we will never grow, never gain the strength to protect what matters! We are not children — we are warriors in training! Tonight, we step into the fire and prove ourselves!"
Cheers almost slipped from a few lips, but Sarena cut in sharply.
"Enough." Her eyes narrowed, voice edged with authority. "Look again, Pete. The monsters outside aren't training dummies or weaklings from the wild. They are far stronger than you realize. Even I…" she hesitated, her knuckles whitening on her staff, "…even I am not certain I can defeat them all. To charge outside now would be suicide."
The students froze, uncertainty battling Pete's fire in their chests.
"Worst case," Sarena continued, her tone steady, practical, "prepare to retreat. Gather your essentials. Stay alert. But do not throw your lives away needlessly."
The logic of her words hit home. The courage Pete had flared in them a moment ago now wavered, students glancing at one another nervously. A few hurried to their tents, stuffing supplies into satchels, murmuring that she was right.
Pete's face reddened, fury burning hotter. He stepped closer, sword trembling with indignation.
"Suicide?!" he shouted. "You mean to tell me that standing here while others fight and bleed for us is bravery?! That watching from behind a wall while lives are lost is noble?! No — true courage is standing shoulder to shoulder with those who protect us, sharing their burden! Only cowards wait for guards to bleed in their place!"
The students faltered again, some pausing mid-pack, torn between the two voices.
Sarena's jaw tightened. She said as she rested her swords point against the ground, voice like steel.
"You are reckless, Pete. You are blinded by arrogance. You would lead them to their deaths for your pride! If the monsters outside are beyond even me, what hope do they have?!"
Her words rang like a hammer, and for a moment silence returned. The students shifted uneasily.
But then Elric stepped forward, lifting his staff as its tip glowing. His tone was grave, yet carried just enough sympathy to sound convincing.
"…Sarena," he said softly, almost mournfully, "perhaps you underestimate them. They are nobles, trained from childhood. Many have real battle experience. And… he is the Hero." His eyes flicked toward Pete, who stood taller at the words.
Pete seized the chance, lifting his chin high.
"Exactly! If not us, then who? If not now, then when?!"
The crowd murmured, their hearts pulled once more toward the shining figure of the Hero.
Sarena's lips parted, but no words came. She could see it — their eyes were glazed, caught in the trance of Pete's radiance, their blood pumping to the rhythm of his declarations. Her logic was drowned beneath the tide of his charisma and Elric's insidious support.
At last, she lowered her sword with a heavy sigh, shoulders weighed down.
"…Do as you will," she whispered, almost to herself.
And in that instant, Pete's flame devoured their reason.