Evening settled softly over the academy.
The History & Knowledge lecture hall was unusually full—
low murmurs weaving between rows, parchment turning, quills scratching against paper.
In the very back—
Rolin was completely surrendered to sleep.
His head leaned against the chair, dark strands of hair falling over his eyes. His breathing was slow. Heavy. Distant.
The only face he recognized in the room was Aileen.
She sat near the middle row, writing with precise focus. After a moment, she glanced back—
and sighed.
At the front of the hall—
Latifia moved gracefully between the aisles, an ancient book floating beside her in a faint shimmer of magic.
"The Pure Elves trace their origin to the vast forests of Eirthrek," she said, her voice warm and clear. "They vanished a thousand years ago. Only the trunk of their Mother Tree remains."
With a wave of her hand—
A massive three-dimensional projection bloomed into existence at the center of the hall.
A colossal trunk. Cracked. Horizontal. Stretching like a fallen mountain.
"It spans five kilometers in width… and nearly three in length."
Soft gasps echoed through the students.
"They believed the tree was sentient," Latifia continued. "Not merely a plant… but the heart of their forest. Its spirit."
She stopped beside a desk.
"When the tree fell… they fell with it."
In the back—
Rolin shifted slightly.
"…five kilometers…"
Aileen turned sharply.
Latifia paused mid-step.
"It seems someone is sharing a historical dream with us," she said lightly.
A few students chuckled.
She approached the back row.
Stopped in front of him.
Studied him for a second.
"Azir."
No response.
"Rolin."
A faint murmur.
Then suddenly—
"The tree didn't die completely…"
The room froze.
Rolin's eyes remained closed as he continued in a sleepy voice:
"The trunk… still emits ancient energy. That's why the surrounding zone is classified red… potential Tier Eight."
The silence grew heavier.
Latifia blinked slowly.
"Did you read that in the text?"
"…No."
He opened one eye lazily.
"The old professor mentioned it. In passing."
Several students exchanged glances.
Aileen smiled faintly.
Latifia folded her arms gently.
"If you're going to sleep in my class… at least continue dreaming out loud."
Soft laughter rippled through the hall.
Rolin finally sat upright, rubbing his eyes.
"Sorry."
Latifia observed him a moment longer than necessary.
Dark circles were clear beneath his eyes.
"Did you sleep last night?"
A pause.
"…No."
She exhaled quietly, then returned to the front.
"Well then. Since Azir is interested in the trunk's energy…"
She gestured. The projection zoomed closer.
"Question for the class: Why has no one attempted to cut what remains over the last thousand years?"
Aileen raised her hand.
"Yes, Aileen."
She stood calmly, smoothing her skirt before answering.
"The trunk is too dense for conventional tools. The surrounding region is saturated with high-tier monsters, making long-term operations impossible. And even if it were cut… transporting something of that scale would be unfeasible."
A brief silence.
Then Latifia smiled.
"Excellent."
A red perimeter ring appeared around the projection.
"The monster density surrounding Eirthrek makes any extended expedition… logistical suicide."
She paced slowly.
"But there is another reason."
She stopped.
"The trunk is not dormant."
Curious murmurs.
"The energy radiating from it alters the environment. Flora grows abnormally. Beasts mutate. Even magical compasses deviate."
In the back—
Rolin was fully awake now, chin resting on his hand, eyes fixed on the image.
"In other words," Latifia continued, "it is not merely a remnant."
"It is a source."
A student raised her hand.
"A source of what?"
Latifia paused.
"That… no one knows precisely."
Whispers spread.
Aileen sat back down, then glanced over her shoulder.
"You were right," she whispered.
"Coincidence," Rolin replied quietly.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"You don't speak by coincidence."
He didn't answer.
The projection shifted into an ancient map marked with faded symbols.
"There are theories," Latifia said, "that the Pure Elves did not truly vanish… but merged with the tree."
Several students stiffened.
"Merged?"
"A legend," she said with a faint smile. "But history often begins as one."
Then her gaze moved to the back.
"Azir."
Rolin looked up.
"If you were leading an expedition… would you enter the region?"
All eyes turned toward him.
He considered for a second.
"No."
Murmurs.
"Why not?" she asked.
"Because the region isn't a destination," he said evenly. "It's a trap."
The room quieted.
"Everything there is unstable. Unknown energy. Mutated beasts. If you enter with force… you trigger a response."
Latifia stopped moving.
"A response from what?"
Rolin's gaze lingered where the projection had been.
"From something that isn't dead."
The silence that followed was no longer academic.
Inside him—
Likath spoke softly.
"You talk like you can feel it."
"…Maybe."
Latifia broke the tension gently.
"An interesting analysis."
She closed the book.
"Next week, we will examine the expeditions that attempted to approach Eirthrek… and never returned."
The bell rang.
Students gathered their belongings.
Aileen approached Rolin before leaving.
"You're strange."
"I've heard that before."
She smiled slightly.
"If you ever go to that forest… tell me."
"I won't."
She held his gaze.
"You say that now."
Then she left.
Rolin remained seated as the hall slowly emptied.
In his chest—
A faint sensation lingered.
As if something impossibly distant…
was still beating.
Two days later—
The Combat Hall was quiet before the students arrived.
Morning light filtered through the high windows, reflecting off the polished training floor.
Rolin entered early, as usual.
Kainos stood in the center of the hall, hands clasped behind his back.
"You're thirty seconds late," he said without turning.
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize. Compensate."
He extended a hand toward a nearby table.
The weapon lay there.
Two dark restraints designed to lock around the wrists.
From each extended a short metal chain—
ending in a double-edged crescent blade.
The edges, however, were dull.
Forged from a pale training alloy.
Rolin approached slowly.
He didn't touch it immediately.
"Training version," Kainos said calmly. "Weight nearly identical. Non-lethal edges. The chains are ten centimeters shorter than the ones you designed."
Rolin looked up.
"Why shorter?"
"Because you overestimate your control."
Silence.
"If you cannot master the short," Kainos continued, "you will never master the long."
Rolin nodded.
He reached forward at last.
Fastened the restraints around his wrists.
The locking sound was soft—but final.
He moved his arm slowly.
The chain slid smoothly.
One step forward—
a pivot—
a lateral release.
The blade whistled through the air.
He didn't stumble.
Didn't lose balance.
He pulled it back.
The motion felt… natural.
More than a sword.
More than a spear.
As if it completed something that had been missing.
Kainos observed without comment.
"Again. Faster."
Rolin moved.
Forward step—
double release—
rotation—
retraction—
lowered center of gravity—
One chain brushed the floor and rebounded unpredictably.
It nearly wrapped around his leg.
He froze for half a second.
"Do not stop," Kainos snapped.
Rolin reacted instantly—
Side leap—
counter-pull—
rebalanced.
His breathing grew heavier.
"A chain is not straight," Kainos said, stepping closer. "It is flexible. Every motion creates a new trajectory."
"I can feel that."
"Don't feel. Calculate."
Kainos raised his training staff.
"Attack."
The first chain launched.
Kainos deflected it easily.
The second came from another angle.
Blocked again.
"Too slow."
The staff struck suddenly toward Rolin's shoulder—
He withdrew—
instinctively wrapped a chain around the staff—
Both froze.
The chain tightened.
Rolin looked down.
Then pulled sharply.
The staff slipped from Kainos' grip and clattered to the floor.
Silence.
Kainos glanced at his empty hand.
Then at Rolin.
"…Again."
But this time—
There was a faint glimmer in his eyes.
Rolin didn't smile.
But he felt something clear.
The weapon was not foreign.
It wasn't resisting him.
It was responding.
Inside him, Likath spoke quietly:
"Well… that suits you."
Rolin inhaled slowly.
Raised his arms again.
This time—
He wasn't learning to wield a weapon.
He was learning to dance with it.
---
Minutes later, the hall filled with students.
Rolin and Kainos stepped back.
"That's enough," Kainos said firmly.
Class began as usual—
strict commands, posture corrections, the repeated clash of training weapons.
When it ended—
Rolin headed straight to Geography & Survival Studies.
The room was calmer than the Combat Hall.
The scent of aged parchment and ink filled the air.
He took his usual seat.
The old professor entered, cane tapping the floor in a slow rhythm.
"Restricted zones," he began, raising a hand.
A large map materialized in midair.
"…are divided into three primary categories:
Restricted by relations.
Restricted by danger.
And unknown territories."
He stopped abruptly.
Turned slowly toward Rolin.
"Zones restricted due to relations…"
He gestured, and a towering mountain range appeared in the northern section of the map.
Sharp peaks. Mist-shrouded summits.
"The Mountain Elves' domain."
A brief pause.
"Humans have had a severely strained relationship with the Mountain Elves. A century ago, their Emperor issued an order to kill any human who entered their territory."
The image shifted—
A massive stone gate carved with intricate runes.
"And of course… the previous King Julius enacted the same decree. Elves barred from human lands."
Soft murmurs spread.
"The Mountain Elves are not merely a clan," the professor continued. "They are an ancient lineage. Long-lived… and longer in memory."
He looked directly at Rolin.
"What happens when two peoples are forbidden from contact for a hundred years?"
A student answered, "The hatred fades?"
The professor gave a faint smile.
"No."
Silence.
"It ferments."
The room stilled.
"Hatred left unresolved… becomes identity."
The map shifted again—
Old trade routes now severed.
"Before the ban, there was exchange. Rare mountain metals… for southern harvests."
He paused.
"Now?"
He pointed to the border lines.
"Armed boundaries."
A student raised a hand.
"Professor… have there been actual clashes in the past century?"
"Yes," he replied coolly. "Small. But bloody."
Then his gaze returned to Rolin.
"Azir."
Rolin looked up.
"If you were a diplomatic envoy… would you attempt reconciliation?"
He thought for several seconds.
"No."
Several students turned toward him.
"Why?" the professor asked.
"Because neither side wants it."
An eyebrow lifted.
"Explain."
"If either side truly wanted to break the stalemate, they would have. A hundred years is enough time. The continued ban suggests the tension serves a purpose."
Silence settled.
The professor smiled slowly.
"A cold analysis."
He gestured.
An image of a dark blue metal appeared, faintly glowing.
"The Mountain Elves possess something rare."
"Etheral."
Whispers spread.
"A metal found only in the depths of their mountains. Highly resistant to high-energy output. Worth ten times its weight in gold."
He looked at the class.
"Sometimes politics is not hatred."
A pause.
"But monopoly."
Silence again.
Inside, Likath muttered softly:
"Elves… heh."
He did not elaborate.
But Rolin noticed the tone.
The professor returned to the center.
"Second category—restricted due to danger. Such as Eirthrek."
The black forest glowed on the map once more.
"And the third…"
The projection shifted into undefined gray regions.
"…completely unknown territories."
His gaze lingered on Rolin one last time.
"And those… are the most dangerous."
The bell rang.
Students began to leave.
But the words "Mountain Elves"… "Etheral"… and "monopoly" lingered in Rolin's thoughts.
Inside him—
Likath was silent.
---
Rolin walked toward History & Knowledge with steady steps.
The corridors were less crowded at this hour.
Sunset light poured through tall windows, washing the walls in faded gold.
He opened the classroom door.
Several students had already arrived, speaking quietly.
Aileen sat in her usual place, flipping through a thick book.
She looked up as he entered.
"You look awake today."
"I slept an hour."
"A remarkable achievement."
He took his seat in the back, as always.