〖The Demonic Continent…〗

Ashvarak’s lungs burned with each ragged breath as his eyes snapped open. The world spun, shadows twisting around him in a rush of heat and flickering torchlight. He had no idea that he was sprawled atop a magic circle, carved into the obsidian floor. Its runes pulsed red, sending faint tremors through his battered limbs.

He struggled upright, mind reeling. A few moments ago—no, had it been moments? Or hours? Days?—he was in Waybound, contending with that infuriating child. Now he found himself in the black heart of the Demon King’s fortress, the grand hall full of whispers of dark creatures.

“Finally awake, I see.” A voice called as Ashvarak shielded his eyes from the flames and looked up. Three figures stood around him, the rest of the four demon generals. The voice belonged to one of them, the Mana Succubus.

Zytrielle Nightwhisper, The Mana Succubus of the Abyss.

“Ah… yes…” he muttered, still confused.

Her lips curved into a mocking smile as she looked down. “You’re fortunate our lord deemed you worth these precious resources. Recovering a shattered soul so soon? Tch, extravagant. Be grateful, for you were to be a cripple for months.”

A guttural growl escaped Ashvarak. He forced himself to his feet, ignoring the sharp pang in his chest. “You’re right…” he said even though it hurt him to give into her demand. “All thanks to my King,” he bowed toward the dark throne ahead of him.

Although he hated the succubus’ guts, he’d be a fool to not show respect to his lord. The succubus, draped in a slinky, smoke-like attire, smirked with lazy disinterest as if it was her victory.

The figure in the throne, hidden under the show, didn’t respond. The generals stayed quiet for a moment, waiting for any response, and then the second figure snapped, “Enough,” a thunder spirit manifested in a swirl of crackling electricity. The top of his body took a humanoid form, his arms crossed, but waist down he was clouds. Its form crackled and shifted, arcs of lightning dancing where eyes should be. “Can’t you see he’s in no condition for jests?”

Volkrath Stormveil, the King of Storms.

Ashvarak didn’t like either of them. The succubus was too annoying, and the spirit was too serious. Then there was the third person, who Ashvarak had mixed feelings about. It was an armored figure who balanced a massive greatsword, standing beside the Mana Succubus. Its voice was oddly girlish as it rang out. “Curious, but what left you in tatters, Ashvarak? I never thought we’d see you groaning on the ground like a half-dead whelp.”

Even Ashvarak didn’t know this creature’s identity or name, although she went by the title of The Warden of Ruin. The Demon King called her ‘Ruin’ for short.

“Well, uh…” Ashvarak held back his rage, and wiped sweat from his brow, gaze darting across the torchlit hall. Thick pillars of basalt stretched upward, vanishing into the gloom.

At the far end, perched on a raised dais, was the Demon King’s throne. Candle flames licked at the darkness, revealing only the faint silhouette of a horned figure.

With all the courage he could muster, Ashvarak drew in a tremulous breath. “I... was undone by a mortal boy. It’s shameful, but I won’t lie before you, my King,” he said, feeling humiliation boil in his gut. “His name is Iskandaar Romani. I told you about him… before. He harnessed demonic energy somehow, according to our dumb Troll, Vrakrith. However, he wielded the Star Affinity against me. I was about to self-destruct in that elf’s body, but he came and stopped me using exceptional mana control unheard for his age. It was… it was strange.”

The succubus let out a disbelieving laugh, while the King of Storms tsked in disgust. The Warden of Ruin remained silent, unsure how to process the notion that a mere boy had bested a demon general. Soon, they all fell silent as an aura spread quietly. Slowly, their heads turned toward the throne, deferring to the only authority that mattered.

From the shadows, the Demon King leaned forward.

This subtle shift let the torchlight graze his features. He had crimson skin that practically glowed, stark white hair cascading down broad shoulders, and a pair of horns curling in a regal arc. Most unsettling of all were his eyes—dazzling in their mesmerizing depths, exuding quiet, unassailable confidence.

“I see,” he said softly, his voice a velvety baritone that rippled through the hall. “The Titan’s grandson, right? How interesting. You say he wields star energy, and demonic energy? I think I know how, but it doesn’t make sense for him to know about it at his position. Perhaps… one of the Devil Pillars has chosen him.” The last line was full of cold anger, as a cool smile curved along his lips. None of his generals dared speak.

A pause followed. The demonic generals couldn’t even exchange glances, their bodies frozen. Ashvarak had his shoulders sagging in defeat as he forced himself to bow his head. “I… I apologize,” he said, “I can’t be sure.”

“Mhm,” the Demon King finally lifted a hand, as if granting him permission to breathe. “Regardless of the details,” he continued, “the campaign at Waybound served its purpose. We’ve revealed our presence—an announcement to the world that the new Demon King’s forces are once more on the move. We needn’t expend additional resources there.”

He paused, letting the echo of his words settle. “While they scramble to rebuild their precious academy,” he murmured, “we’ll shift our focus to the rest of the world. The enchantments, the infiltration, and our alliances… ensure all of it proceeds uninterrupted. I’ll look over this small failure, so I expect readiness on all other fronts.”

His eyes flicked to each general in turn. The Mana Succubus, the Warlord of Ruin, the King of Storms, and finally Ashvarak. His odd eyes turned golden as a faint tingle ran through them under that piercing gaze. “Am I understood, children?”

“Yes, my lord!” they proclaimed as one, voices resonating through the chamber. The Demon King smiled, expression an artwork of grace and malice. He rested his hands, leaning back against the dark throne.

Torchlight danced on his crimson cheeks. “...Keep an eye on that boy,” he added quietly. “Ashvarak—heal, then gather fresh intel. Send our best one at the job to keep an eye on him. His family connection with the Titan aside, if he truly is a host or disciple of one of the 72 Pillars, this Iskandaar Romani may become relevant.”

Ashvarak’s pride stung that they’d have to keep an eye on this brat that should have died with no achievement to his name, but he forced a bow. “Yes, Sire.”

“Good,” the Demon King purred, tapping a claw against the throne’s armrest. “Now be off. You have much to do, and no time for regrets.” The grand hall went quiet. With a final glance at Ashvarak’s battered figure, the other generals departed, followed by the Asura himself, all leaving the flickering torches behind.

From his throne, the Demon King watched them go as he settled into the gloom, letting the shadows devour all but the faint edges of his horns. “What an odd situation.”

****

〖The Waybound Academy〗

I woke up the morning after our final stand against the demons to a crisp white letter waiting at my doorstep. No formal introduction, but it had the academy seal—just a single piece of parchment instructing every student to keep away from classes.

“All lectures are suspended,” it read in neat, minimal script, “until further notice, while we repair the academy grounds.”

The official stamp at the bottom did little to hide the bleakness of that order. I remember staring at the lines, thinking, We saved Waybound, but at what cost?

Many lives had been lost, although far less than what would have, and the academy’s reputation was at stake. The professors, especially Amelia and the headmaster, must be going crazy right now.

In the two weeks that followed, Waybound Academy’s usual bustle ground to a halt. Repair crews swarmed every corner of campus—bricklayers, warding mages, even the occasional enchanter rummaging for demonic residue. Their chanting and clanking became a constant backdrop.

With no lectures to attend, I shut myself in my dorm room, dedicating every waking moment to cultivation.

The penalty from Temporal Overdraft would last for two weeks, a full ninety-percent block on gaining experience from combat. but I refused to waste the downtime. If I couldn’t level quickly, I’d refine my Qi, deepen my control, hone my fundamentals.

So I sat down to do just that. Before closing my doors for isolation training, though, I summoned my fledgling cult members off to the wilds. They had a mission, to at least level up 5 times for Nebula, 3 for Solara, and 2 for Lilian. The others should complete their goal easily, but Lilian would have some trouble as it was harder to level up at her level. So she’d have to venture deeper into the forests.

They were out there leveling up, while I remained seated cross-legged and cultivated. It was a boring process, but at one point, it started feeling like sleeping. Time passed fast, too. Each day blurred into the next: morning cultivation, midday Qi control training, and evening mental exercises by trying to explore more of the Heavenly Demon’s memories.

Sometimes, while deep in focus, flashes of the demon invasion echoed in my mind, breaking my concentration but spurring me on to push my cultivation even further.

Finally, when two weeks ended, I stepped outside that morning, inhaling the crisp air that swept across campus.

“Whew… Time to see how much has changed,” I told myself as I left the dorms. The first thing I noticed was the scaffolding around the main gate, mages were perched on precarious platforms and carving runes into newly shaped archways.

Threads of half-assembled wards crisscrossed overhead, forming a lattice of faint energy. There were a lot of people today as it was the first day of class, and yet the place felt quieter. No massive dome of crimson arcs sealing us in, no demonic illusions skulking behind columns, and yet the hush in the air gave off a subdued tension. As though everyone was still bracing for the next blow. They’re worrying too much.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

As I walked, my eyes caught a golden sheen coming from a group. I almost paused but I wasn’t scared. I just kept my head low and walked slowly as I didn’t want to catch their attention. Most students were uncomfortable around them, so they wouldn't suspect me.

They were Holy Knights, clad in golden armor and wandering the area.

While only Sir Likard the Mountain had come before, a small squad was sent this time as the incident was far greater. When I first heard about it, I almost took a vacation back home, but thankfully they weren’t suspecting any students this time. They were here to keep a routine eye out as per the orders of the United Church. They’d leave soon as there was nothing going on.

I heard some famous S-Rank Adventurers had also come here, if only out of curiosity. There was even news that the New Hero Assembly, descendants of the heroes and also alumni to Waybound Academy, might pay a visit out of care for their juniors. I couldn’t be sure how much of that was true, or if it had already happened since I was in isolation.

“Hey, Iskandaar, right? Thank you for that day!” Someone called from a distance, waving at me. He looked at me with a bright expression. I waved back.

Probably someone I saved? I smiled and wandered onward through the corridor that led to the central yard. Half the path was newly paved with polished stone; the other half was still scarred with scorch marks and debris. It evoked bad memories. Freshly painted lines of runic glyphs glimmered underfoot, a sign that a warding group had been here recently to fortify our defenses. Their faint hum resonated up my legs with each step.

A few passersby shuffled around me, each wearing the same uncertain expression. Some recognized me, tossing sideways glances or murmuring half-finished greetings like that guy from earlier. There are so many rumors, I thought wryly. Rumors that I’d somehow contributed to halting the demon assault. Though presumably, nobody knew the full story, they’d seen or heard how I purified so many infected students.

It was safe to say my status as Trash of the Count Family was gone. My lips curved up on their own at that realization as I happily walked.

Further in, I caught snippets of more hushed conversations.

“...like half the staff was injured. Even Professor Katheran.”

“I heard especially Katheran. Isn’t that insane? Can you believe it?”

“I heard the chancellor’s in a closed meeting all day these days. Poor her.”

“Whatever. No classes for two weeks, and now we’re behind schedule... Great.”

Still, no real chatter about demon generals or cult secrets. I doubt there were any lingering demons around. The Church of Light had already done their search.

At least the rumor mill hasn’t outed me as a demon-slaying maniac, I consoled myself. It wouldn’t be bad at first, but when people would get curious about how I was so strong, and when the United Church would shift their focus on me, I’d be doomed. I didn’t need that trouble.

Eventually, I reached my usual classroom. The door sat ajar, warm light spilling into the hallway. I slipped in to find a half-dozen students chatting softly across the benches, the gigantic classroom looming over me like the maw of a dragon.

Some seats lay broken or newly replaced with chairs that didn’t match the usual decor. My gaze swept the room, instantly noticing who wasn’t here. Solara, Nebula, Lilian? Well, we don’t count Lilian, but still. I’d hoped they’d be back from their hunt by now.

But I spotted Alaric, my princely friend who’d been really helpful to me all this time. He looked up with a grin. “Hey, Iskandaar!” he called, waving me over. “Long time no see. Returned home for vacation or what?”

I wove through the mismatched desks, ignoring the mild stares from classmates I hadn’t spoken to in weeks, and took a seat next to Alaric. “Has it really been that long? I was busy training,” I said, a laugh in my voice. Time did warp when you spent day after day cultivating. “How’re things?”

He shrugged, pushing a tumble of black hair off his forehead. “Busy. Really busy. My father got word of the demon incursion, so now he’s breathing down my neck. Even though I’m not his most favourite son, he wants me to be safe. You know how it goes.”

“More or less,” I replied, recalling the fiasco of outraged noble parents bombarding Amelia with demands. I couldn’t bring myself to watch it all, that was one other thing isolation training helped me avoid.

We chatted lightly about the repairs and rumors swirling outside the academy. In the background, more students trickled in, each face turning thoughtful at the sight of battered walls and half-warded corners.

At one point, I shifted, scanning the door. Still no sign of my cult girls.

Then, they arrived just as I was about to ask Alaric about upcoming lectures. Solara was the first to enter, walking side by side with Nebula who seemed less lost than before. My eyes lit up seeing them. Behind them, Lilian was peeking into the classroom from the door. She grinned when our eyes met and waved at me.

I waved back as she mouthed, ‘See you later!’ and turned away to leave. She wasn’t a student, after all.

“Now that’s a surprise,” Nebula walked toward my seat and said. She and Solara had paused when they saw me sitting with Alaric. “You not sitting with a girl for once, I mean,” she said, and I gave her a blank look.

Cheating jokes were funny before, but now? Now I wondered how she’d feel when she found out about me and Lilian eventually. I… should bring that up to her myself. It was better than her finding out on her own.

“Is it truly that surprising?” I raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged. Solara giggled behind her, and they slipped into seats a row behind us.

I gave them a nod and Solara returned it with a faint smile. “Hey, let’s meet up during lunch,” she said. Nebula didn’t comment on that, her expression returning to placid. Although her earlier joke suggested she’d lightened up, something was still up.

That was concerning. I can only respect her privacy so much. She’s still my fiance, I’ll have to make sure she’s alright. I decided to converse with Lilian about this later. She might have noticed something in the last two weeks.

“You two are really close,” Alaric said from my side. “Many times, engaged partners don’t share such great chemistry.”

“Talking from experience?” I joked. In response, he smiled awkwardly, and I realized that was a bad joke to make. “Wait, really? You’re engaged?”

“Not anymore. She called it off,” Alaric sighed. “The youngest son of a small country like Roshmar, and he’s not even going to inherit the throne. She’s the daughter of a rich merchant. I guess she thought she could aim higher.”

“Her loss, man. Don’t beat yourself over it,” I patted my friend on the back, making him chuckle. It was true, though. Alaric was destined for success even in the game, but now that he was involved with me? Not to brag, but opportunities far greater than Roshmar’s throne might come his way.

We chatted for a bit more, but we had to stop when some heavy footsteps filled the room. Every student looked at the door as Professor Katheran strode in—or, more accurately, limped in. His left arm was wrapped in bandages, and a scar crossed his cheek. The room hushed at once, but whispers ignited.

“He’s injured?”

“Guess he got caught by those illusions...”

“Unbelievable. Katheran used to be unstoppable.”

I caught Alaric’s eye, lifting an eyebrow. He leaned in and whispered, “I heard a pack of demons singled him out. Something about his unique power threatened them, so he couldn’t come to the students’ aid. He’s really mad over it.”

I nodded, taking that in. Katheran had been known for his formidable powers, yet the demon invasion was evidently too broad and chaotic for him to handle everything, or even protect himself easily from the looks of it.

[Katheran, Level 112]

But he had leveled up twice since the start of the school year.

Reaching the front, Katheran cleared his throat. His usual commanding presence was dimmed by fatigue, but he mustered enough force to hush our subdued chatter. “I hate speeches, but time calls for one. So I’d prefer some silence, students,” he began, voice gruff. “The Winter Festival was difficult for all of us, but the last two weeks helped us relax. The school’s defense is at an all time high right now. Waybound stands, though battered. Let me be direct: classes will continue as usual from now on. We’re behind schedule on mid-year exams, so we’ll compress the syllabus to catch up. Expect more intense studies. I apologize to students who love to train,” he looked at me, “but books are also important. Theoretical knowledge. So you’ll have to really study for a while.”

A wave of tension passes through the room. We’d prepare for exams out of nowhere, on top of the academy’s half-finished repairs? Dammit, I don’t want to study. But none of us complained outright. After all we’d faced, ramping up academics felt almost mundane.

Katheran nodded once, scanning us with bandaged eyes. “That’s all. Be prepared. Questions?” A hush responded, so he heaved a weary breath. “Then let’s proceed.”

At that moment, he paused, blinking, and then clapped his hands, drawing every eye in the room. “Uh, I forgot. Before we start,” Katheran announced, voice steadier than before, “we have a new classmate to introduce. Prince Rhydar, please come in.”

“Ohhh,” I cheered, and before I could reprimand myself for my mistake, I realized most other students had done the same. All at once, the door swung open, and Prince Rhydar stepped inside, his regal bearing impossible to miss. A ripple of gasps spread through the class—Solara rustled her wings in surprise, and even Nebula’s eyes went wide.

Katheran gestured the young elf forward. “I’m sure you’re familiar with him by now, even if not personally. Despite everything that happened during the Winter Festival, the elves have built a promising connection with us. So he’ll be studying alongside you from this day on at the behest of his kingdom and our chancellor. Make him welcome.”

With that brief introduction, Rhydar politely nodded, “Please don’t feel uncomfortable around me, and treat me as you would any other student,” he said, glancing around the room. I waved at him, and he blinked, before walking over to us.

“I’m Alaric Roshmar, the third prince of the Kingdom of Roshmar,” Alaric stood up and shook hands with the elf. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well,” Rhydar replied, smiling. “I heard how you and this lady over here,” he looked at Solara, nodding at her, “helped many people, mine included. So you have my thanks.”

“Hey, I am Iskandaar Romani,” I waved at him, prompting both of them to laugh. “Anyways, sit down here, we have enough space,” I said, and he nodded.

The room buzzed with curiosity, all eyes falling on us. Among them, the gaze of Prince Orion was obvious, but I ignored him as I’d been from the get go. I looked at Katheran who looked faintly pleased with the reaction, and pressed on with his speech.

“...I’m not going to lie, too many royalties are in this session. Not just among you first years, but the others too. I don’t like it,” Katheran said. “During my batch, there were few. Things were bearable. It is not my place to talk as your professor, but as a person living on this continent, I do hope you royal brats get along. If you ever happen to bear grudges against one another, talk things out like civilized people or have a duel, rather than holding it in yourselves for decades and fighting it out as Kings. That’d be stupid, your people will suffer. Or… you also can just choose to be a kind person like your third-year senior, Goryeo’s First Princess, our only student from the eastern continent. I like the people of the east, they’re polite and kind. You royals should take notes.”

Only Katheran dared to speak like that to the royal kids, despite his family background. Well, to be more accurate, the lack thereof. His name and reputation alone allowed him that attitude. To his eyes, they were still snot-nosed spoiled brats who happened to have been fed better and learned to swing the sword better from the expensive teachers their family hired from an early age. It was fun to see.

I rested my chin on my hand and sighed. Mid-year exams, a half-restored campus, and demon threats are on the horizon. My life had never felt more complicated. Yet a strange excitement buzzed under my skin, maybe it was the conviction that we’d survived the worst, or maybe the knowledge that more challenges lay ahead.

The professor gestured to a battered chalkboard that squeaked ominously as he tried to write. Alaric let out a half-laugh at the squeal, while Rhydar blinked. Behind me, Solara and Nebula exchanged glances. I exhaled softly, letting the moment linger.

Thus, Waybound Academy turned a new page away from demons and death.