A cluster of wizard apprentices who had narrowly escaped with their lives gathered on the deck, each wearing a pallid, unsettled expression.
Rumor had it that the ferocious sea beasts had ravaged the third deck before being intercepted by sailors rushing to the rescue. The fourth and fifth decks had suffered devastating losses—over half the apprentices there were dead or grievously wounded. Ironically, those lodged in the lowest cabins had emerged unharmed, spared by sheer fortune.
Binhansen spotted Green and his companions on deck and exhaled in relief.
"Thank the fates you're all right! Spirits above, those sea monsters nearly scared me to death! I mean, honestly—me, a proud magic apprentice of the grand city of Tambrosen—devoured by sea beasts before I even set foot in the Wizarding Academy? I've no intention of becoming monster dung!"
He jabbed a finger toward the group behind him. "Come, come, let me introduce—"
Green could not help but marvel at the man's luck.
Binhansen had been lodged in the damp, clammy cabins of the second deck—barely better than the bottom tier—but it was precisely that miserable placement that had saved his life.
Green, by contrast, could only bemoan his own wretched luck. "I'd just decided to step out for some air—barely reached the fifth deck when disaster struck. Normally, I could go days without leaving my quarters… yet today…" He shook his head with a sigh.
No matter how hard they searched the deck, there was no sign of Wade. He had, in all likelihood, joined the ranks of the dead.
On the far side of the deck, Kiram stood intact and silent, gazing coldly out over the sea.
Binhansen gave a low, derisive snort. "Hmph. Always currying favor with Wizard Arwoz—born to be a lackey."
It was no mystery why Binhansen disliked him. On the journey thus far, Kiram had shadowed Arwoz's every step, smiling obsequiously and catering to the wizard's needs. Once separated from his patron, he treated Green's group with open disdain—so much so that when Yorkris quarreled with another apprentice on the fifth deck, Kiram had simply said, 'Not my concern,' and walked away.
Naturally, Green's group now felt no inclination to speak with him either.
Yorkris had no time for such petty grudges. He clutched his sister anxiously, staring at the vacant hollowness where her eyes had been. "It's all right. Once we reach the Wizarding Continent, I'll beg the most powerful wizard I can find to heal your sight."
Yorkliana's pale face forced a faint smile.
"Brother, don't lie to me. I may be slow, but I'm not foolish. Great wizards aren't so easily approached. And besides… it's all right. Look at Wizard Dira—he gets by fine with just one eye."
They all turned toward Dira, who was busily tallying the surviving apprentices. One of his eyes had been replaced by a constantly turning gear—an unsettling sight. Was Yorkliana destined to become like that?
A chill prickled down everyone's spine.
"No," Yorkris said quickly. "I swear, I will heal your eyes!"
As for Green and Raffie, one had injured his left leg, the other her right shoulder, so they rested side by side against the mast—an unspoken truce. Green, still embarrassed from earlier events, kept silent; Raffie, flustered by her own earlier lapse, did the same. The momentary closeness they had shared now felt like an illusion, unspoken and swiftly buried.
Later, news spread across the deck: the attack had left thirty-two sailors dead and one hundred and seven apprentices slain—most from the fourth and fifth decks.
Elsewhere, Dira stood with the ship's captain and Baron, two legendary knights. The captain was unharmed, but Baron bore a deep gash across his back, which he seemed to disregard.
"What troubles you, Master?" Baron asked, puzzled. Given that the beasts had been repelled, Dira should have been relieved. Yet his expression—though subtle—was troubled.
Few could read a wizard's face, and fewer still could read Dira's, whose body had been partially remade, stripping away the finer nuances of human expression. Only Baron, who had served him for decades, could detect that faint shadow of unease.
"This attack… something about it is wrong," Dira said gravely, his sole eye fixing on Baron.
Baron stiffened, realization dawning. "You think… another wizard is watching us?"
"If my instincts are correct—yes."
Baron's dark skin blanched. He knew too well the terror of being marked by an unseen wizard—especially at sea, with no hope of reinforcements.
"Is it the Academy's enemies? Or yours?" he asked tensely.
"Either is possible. But…" Dira's gaze shifted, "…there is another possibility. They may be here for them."
Baron followed his master's line of sight to Yunli and Bibiliona.
"For them?" he repeated, incredulous. "Two mere apprentices—no matter how gifted—worth risking a clash with you, Master?"
"Perhaps," Dira murmured. "There are secrets you do not understand." He sighed. "The beasts have been repelled, but my magic is spent. If trouble comes, it will be soon. We will wait and watch."
A shadow of malice flickered in his gaze. "But if our foe comes for them, Baron—I want you to do something."
Baron dropped to one knee. "Command me, my lord."
"Kill them both," Dira whispered darkly. "They are prodigies—once-in-a-century talents with rare and potent innate sorcery. They could become formidable contenders in the Holy Tower Qualification Battles. If Lilith's Academy cannot claim them, we must ensure our enemies cannot either."
…
The sea breeze howled, the sun climbed higher, and waves of heat rolled over the deck. One by one, people retreated below to escape the swelter, leaving only a handful on deck—among them Green and Binhansen. Raffie, Yorkris, and Yorkliana had already gone below.
"Say, Green," Binhansen drawled, "with the wizard's quarters destroyed, where do you think he'll stay tonight? Oh—and those two as well."
He meant Yunli and Bibiliona.
"No idea. Likely the fifth deck," Green replied indifferently.
Binhansen smirked. "Thought so. Three of our lot—Yorkris, Yorkliana, and Raffie—are on the fifth deck. Wonder whose room will be taken."
"Plenty of empty rooms after all those deaths," Green said flatly.
"Not necessarily—rooms are destroyed as well as people."
Their idle bickering was cut short when a vast shadow fell over them. At first, they assumed it was just a passing cloud—until the air filled with the beating of wings and a cacophony of hoarse caws. Looking up, they froze.
Overhead, thousands—perhaps tens of thousands—of jet-black crows formed a living cloud. Upon that shifting mass stood a distant, indistinct figure, gazing down at the ship.
Even at such a distance, the oppressive tide of magic radiating from the figure gripped every soul aboard—a suffocating premonition of doom, as though the ship were about to crash against an iceberg.
In every gaze, there was only that infinite, crow-wrought darkness.
"Heh… Wizard aboard the ship—come out."
The voice was low, rasping, androgynous—like Arwoz's, yet colder.
Dira emerged from the cabin, magic staff in hand. His gray robe billowed as he rose into the air, meeting the stranger's gaze across the void.
When he saw the figure clearly, Dira's face blanched. "A… Second-Rank Wizard!?"
A derisive chuckle answered him. "Never seen you before. Lilith's Cottage does breed fine seedlings. This ship is now mine. For the sake of your potential—leave."
It was not a request.
Dira's face darkened, the gloom in his eyes nearly tangible. For centuries, he had been lauded as a prodigy—one likely to ascend to the Second Rank himself. Yet today, the foe before him had already attained that height.
Second-Rank Wizards were the very sinews of Academy power—often deans themselves, bound by countless ties to the uppermost tiers of wizardkind. And the gulf between ranks was immeasurable; each ascension brought abilities no talent or spell could hope to match.
Dira hesitated. To relinquish the ship without cause would be humiliating but survivable—were it not for the presence of those two extraordinary apprentices aboard, and the timing of this voyage…
"The ship is yours," Dira said at last. "But may I take two with me?"
"I told you to leave," came the cold reply, followed by a sudden snarl: "Seeking death!"
No one expected Dira to strike first—to launch a sneak attack on a wizard above his own rank. A spear of ice, trailing a pale comet's wake, shot straight for the stranger's heart.
But the Second-Rank's power erupted—a tempest so overwhelming that even untrained apprentices could sense it. The blast scattered clouds, churned the sea, and shattered the ice spear into glittering shards.
In the same breath, Dira fled as a streak of light across the sky.
But the crow-cloud surged after him. "You cannot escape!" roared the voice, as the two vanished beyond the horizon.
Only then did Green and Binhansen gasp for air, lungs burning as if they had been drowning. That surge of magic had crushed the breath from every apprentice aboard.
"Spirits—thought I was done for!" Binhansen clutched his chest. "Two brushes with death in a single day—and we haven't even reached the Wizarding Continent! Is that place even fit for human life?"
Green drew in great gulps of air, his expression grim. "It seems… a great upheaval is coming."