Lativia entered the classroom without haste.
She closed the door gently behind her, the soft click echoing in the quiet hall. Then she smiled at the students.
"Good evening."
"Good evening, Professor," the class replied in near-perfect unison.
She placed her book on the desk, fingers resting on its worn leather cover.
"Today, we will continue discussing the expeditions that attempted to approach the Forest of Irtherik… after the fall of the Mother Tree."
A subtle stillness spread across the room.
With a wave of her hand, faint projections shimmered into existence above the desks—images of past exploration teams. Ancient armor dulled by time. Torn banners. Maps half-burned at the edges. Faces frozen in determined expressions that history had long since swallowed.
"In the past thousand years," Lativia continued calmly, "thirteen official expeditions were recorded."
A translucent page flipped in midair.
"Eight never returned."
Whispers rippled through the classroom.
"Three returned with fewer than half their members alive."
She paused deliberately.
"And only two returned intact."
Aileen raised her hand.
"Did they accomplish anything?"
A faint smile touched Lativia's lips.
"They brought back soil samples… and several mutated plant specimens."
She let the words settle before adding:
"All members of both expeditions retired within two years."
Silence thickened.
"Why?" a student asked from the side rows.
"Chronic sleep disturbances. Persistent hallucinations. And a constant sensation of being… watched."
The air seemed colder.
In the back row—
Rolin did not move.
But his focus sharpened.
"According to one expedition report," Lativia continued, and a handwritten page appeared in the air—its ink jagged and unsteady, "there was something unusual deep within the forest."
She read aloud:
'At the heart of the woods… we felt what resembled a slow heartbeat.
Not a sound—
but a pressure beneath the skin.'
No one spoke.
Aileen's gaze shifted unconsciously toward Rolin.
He didn't look at her.
But his fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the desk.
Lativia closed the projection with a soft gesture.
"There is no conclusive evidence regarding the source of that sensation."
Then she turned her attention toward the middle row.
"Azir."
He lifted his eyes.
"Do you believe the residual energy within the stump is sufficient to produce such effects after a thousand years?"
He considered carefully.
"If the Tree was merely botanical life… no."
A pause.
"But if it was… something else… then yes."
Interest flickered in Lativia's eyes.
"And what might make it 'something else'?"
"Consciousness."
The word fell like a stone into still water.
A student whispered, "A sentient tree?"
Lativia did not dismiss it.
"There are ancient theories suggesting that the Pure Thousand were not separate from the Mother Tree… but part of a single system."
A faint murmur passed through the room.
"A network," Azir murmured under his breath.
"Perhaps," Lativia replied. "A shared awareness. A distributed will."
She clasped her hands behind her back.
"But there is no scientific proof."
Her gaze drifted briefly toward the back of the room.
Toward Rolin.
He met her eyes for only a second.
In that second, something unspoken passed between them.
Because Rolin had stood beneath a sky with five stars.
He had walked from black sand into a forest that pierced the heavens.
And for just a fleeting moment…
He had felt it too.
Not a sound.
Not a presence.
But something vast.
Something patient.
Something that did not sleep.
Likath stirred faintly within him.
"Roli…"
His voice was quiet, unusually restrained.
"If trees can remember… what happens when they decide not to forget?"
Rolin didn't answer.
But for the first time since returning—
The word Irtherik did not feel like history.
It felt like a warnings
Aileen approached Rolin again as the students began gathering their things.
"Every time Irtherik is mentioned… you look like you're listening to something we can't hear."
Rolin met her gaze.
"Maybe you're not trying to."
A faint smile curved her lips.
"If you ever go there… don't go alone."
He didn't answer.
He left the classroom slowly.
And inside him—
The silence felt heavier than usual.
There was only that faint sensation.
As if something very far away…
Was pulsing.
After a short visit to the washroom, Rolin returned and took his seat quietly.
Lativia clapped her hands once.
"Page forty-three. New lesson: The History of the White Wing Guild and the minor guilds of the Flat-Topped Mountains."
With a wave of her hand, a three-dimensional model rose into the air—an enormous mountain range with vast, leveled summits. They looked like colossal stone tables suspended in the sky.
"The Flat-Topped Mountains form a natural boundary in the northeastern region of our beloved continent, Lokarina."
She walked between the rows as the projection zoomed inward.
"For centuries, they remained a hazardous and largely unknown territory. Most feared of all… are the Ascents and Descents."
The model shifted, focusing on a narrow pass between two plateaus of differing heights.
Blue and red streams of air began flowing in opposite directions.
"An Ascent occurs when air from a lower plateau surges upward at high velocity, while air from a higher summit descends at moderate speed. The two currents collide in a zone known as the Guillotine."
The word lingered.
"Anything caught there… is crushed under opposing pressure."
The classroom fell silent.
"The Descent," she continued, altering the currents' speeds, "is far more dangerous. The downward flow becomes violently fast while the upward current slows. The instability creates a tearing force."
Her tone remained clinical.
"Objects caught within may be pulled apart entirely."
Aileen raised her hand.
"Can Ascents or Descents be predicted?"
"Sometimes," Lativia replied. "Seasonal winds increase probability. Temperature differences between plateaus are another factor. But the problem… is volatility. Conditions can change within minutes."
She glanced toward the back.
"Azir. If you were forced to cross between two plateaus, what would you do?"
He thought carefully.
"I'd observe cloud behavior first."
She nodded.
"And?"
"I'd test the current using something inanimate—cloth, perhaps. If it shifts violently or tears… I retreat."
A faint smile.
"Good."
He added dryly, "Or better yet… I don't cross at all."
Soft laughter spread.
"First rule of survival," Lativia said. "Sometimes true courage is choosing the longer path."
The projection faded into a mechanical glider.
"The White Wing Guild were the first to engineer gliding wings capable of navigating those currents. Lightweight frames. Precision-calculated angles."
She looked at the class.
"A single miscalculation means a fatal fall."
Rolin appeared unmoved.
But he memorized every detail.
Mountains.
Unstable currents.
Guillotine zones.
Inside him, Likath murmured quietly:
"Places like that… separate the weak."
Rolin responded in silence.
"And refine the rest."
Yet the word Guillotine lingered in his mind.
Places that required no monsters.
The air itself was enough.
Lativia slowed her pacing.
"The White Wing Guild eventually established a fortress within the mountains."
Aileen raised her hand again.
"Professor, wasn't it dangerous to build a stronghold among high-tier beasts?"
Lativia's eyes gleamed.
"Extremely. The mountains were home to numerous Rank Five and above creatures. At that time, a Rank Nine Breaker-class beast ruled the region."
The hovering book flipped open to an image of a striking woman—long silver hair, emerald eyes, light armor etched with the White Wing insignia.
"Four decades ago, the guild launched the largest expedition in its history, led by Lonia Surik."
The projection zoomed closer.
"She was not merely a commander. She was a legend. Her strategic mind and composure turned an impossible mission into a lasting foothold."
The model shifted to reveal a fortress carved into jagged stone, positioned between natural wind barriers and narrow monster-infested passes.
"She selected a location shielded from the most violent currents. Natural terrain became their shield. Traps and elevation funnels made large-scale beast assaults nearly impossible."
Her voice lowered slightly.
"Those who faced the mountains and returned carried stories few believed. Those who did not… became part of the mountains' silence."
Rolin's eyes sharpened.
"A Rank Nine Breaker…" he murmured inwardly.
Likath responded:
"This isn't just history. It's survival doctrine."
Rolin understood.
Every lesson mattered.
Every word could one day decide life or death.
Lativia stopped at the center of the room.
"Young ones… you must be cautious of everything."
She moved slowly now.
Very slowly.
The lights dimmed slightly as a new projection materialized.
A colossal creature appeared in the air.
Ten massive arms.
A head filled with layered fangs.
Eyes glowing like molten stone.
The atmosphere in the classroom tightened.
"This," Lativia said calmly, "was the ruler of the Flat-Topped Mountains."
The Breaker-class Rank Nine.
Even as an illusion—
Its presence felt suffocating.
Rolin did not look away.
And somewhere deep inside him—
That faint, distant pulse…
Seemed to answer.