The early morning light filtered softly through the tall windows of Damon’s dormitory room, casting long, pale streaks across the wooden floor as the quiet stillness of the academy settled into a calm, almost deceptive peace after the chaos of the previous night.

Damon sat at his desk, one leg crossed over the other, a cup of coffee resting loosely in his hand as thin curls of steam rose from its surface. His posture was relaxed, almost indifferent, yet his eyes held a distant sharpness.

A soft knock sounded against the door before it opened carefully.

Sahira stepped inside, her movements light and respectful as she approached him, dressed neatly in her maid uniform, her brown hair tied into a slightly messy bun that gave her an unpolished charm, though her expression carried a noticeable hint of hesitation. In her hands, she held a folded sheet of paper, gripping it just tightly enough to betray a trace of nervousness.

"Y-young master..." she began softly, stepping closer before extending the paper toward him, "you asked for today’s Daily Chronicle..."

Damon’s gaze shifted toward her briefly before he reached out and took it from her hands without much thought, his fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the paper as he leaned back slightly in his chair.

"Daily Chronicle, huh..." he muttered under his breath, a faint trace of dry amusement slipping into his tone,

Pretty fantasy name for a newspaper.

He gave a small shake of his head as he unfolded it, his eyes moving lazily across the page—until they stopped.

A large headline dominated the front.

Beneath it, an image captured a moment frozen in time—the swirling, distortion of the breach, its edges warping the air around it, and just in front of it, three figures emerging from within.

Him.

Mira.

Serena.

The headline stretched boldly across the page:

Crownspire’s First-Year Students Clear Level 2 Dungeon — A Promising Future for the World

The article beneath continued, filled with confident praise and measured optimism, speaking of rising talents and reassuring the public that the next generation was more than capable of safeguarding what lay ahead, while noting that the full details of the breach environment and the battle within would be released following official documentation and review.

Damon exhaled quietly, his eyes lingering on the image for just a second longer before he lowered the paper slightly.

"This should at least help me make my name..." he murmured, his voice calm, almost detached, "first step towards independence."

There was no visible pride in his expression, no satisfaction—only quiet acknowledgment, as though the outcome had been expected rather than earned.

Without another glance, he folded the newspaper loosely and set it aside on the desk, lifting his coffee again as he took a slow sip, the warmth settling in his chest as his thoughts moved forward, already leaving the past behind.

Beside him, Sahira remained standing.

Her fingers fidgeted faintly against the fabric of her apron, her gaze shifting toward him and then away again as though she was debating something internally, the hesitation written clearly across her face.

She parted her lips once—then stopped.

Then again.

And finally, gathering what little resolve she had, she spoke.

"Y-young master..." her voice came out softer this time, edged with genuine concern, "are you alright? Was it too dangerous? Y-you are not seriously hurt, right?"

Damon paused.

His gaze lifted slowly, settling on her face.

For a brief moment, he simply looked at her—the worry in her eyes, the way she held herself as though bracing for an answer she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear.

Then, calmly, he replied.

"I am fine," he said, his tone even and composed, "it was nothing."

Sahira blinked once, as though processing the answer, before giving a small, relieved nod, her shoulders easing ever so slightly as she accepted his words without pressing further.

Damon finished the last of his coffee before setting the cup down with a quiet clink, the sound echoing faintly in the otherwise still room as he rose to his feet in one smooth motion.

"I am leaving for the classes," he said, adjusting his posture as his expression returned fully to its usual calm neutrality.

Sahira straightened immediately, her earlier hesitation replaced with practiced composure as she bowed her head slightly.

"Have a good day, young master!"

Damon stepped past her, moving toward the door, his hand resting briefly on the handle before he paused just long enough to respond.

"Oh..."

A faint, knowing curve touched his lips.

"I am sure I will have one."

***

The classroom had already begun to fill by the time Damon arrived, the low hum of conversation weaving through the air as students settled into their seats, some still animatedly discussing the events of the previous day while others pretended indifference, though their occasional glances said otherwise. Damon walked in without drawing attention to himself, his steps steady and unhurried as he made his way toward the last row, his usual place.

He had barely taken his seat when—

"Ya bastard... couldn’t ya tell it to me beforehand? How could ya do it all by yourself...?"

The voice came from beside him, heavy and rough, the words rolling with a distinct beastman accent that carried both irritation and something far more personal beneath it.

Damon didn’t react immediately.

He turned his head slightly.

Khaira stood there, arms crossed tightly, her horns burning brighter than usual, faint embers flickering along their edges as her sharp gaze locked onto him with unmistakable intensity.

"Are you an idiot or what?" Damon replied flatly, his tone completely unbothered, "do you think I am supposed to know where the breach is opening... and even if I do... why am I supposed to take you?"

Khaira’s eyes narrowed further, her tail flicking sharply behind her as she stepped closer.

"First ya don’t fight me, an’ now ya doin’ this too?" she shot back, frustration bleeding into her voice, " How can ya be my rival if ya keep pullin’ stuff like this, huh?"

Damon looked at her for a second longer.

Then, with complete disinterest—

"When did I say I am your rival?"

Khaira froze for half a heartbeat, clearly not expecting that response, the words catching her off guard just enough for the irritation on her face to shift into something sharper, more personal.

Before she could respond—

A low, almost amused voice slipped between them.

"Ohh... what are two of my favorite students fighting about today?"

Both Damon and Khaira turned at the same time.

Valerian stood there.

A wide grin stretched across his face, eyes gleaming with a familiar, unsettling amusement as though he had been listening for longer than either of them would have liked.

Damon’s expression flattened immediately.

"Are you never going to learn... to not sneak up like that?" he said, his voice carrying a faint edge of annoyance. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

For a brief moment, Valerian said nothing.

Then—

"Heheh... ha—HAHHAHAHAHA!"

The laughter burst out suddenly, loud and unrestrained as his figure blurred—

And vanished.

A split second later, he reappeared at the front of the classroom as if he had always been there, dressed in his usual immaculate white suit, the bowler hat tilted slightly atop his head, a cane resting lightly in his hand as though it were part of the performance rather than a necessity.

Without warning—

Pop!

A burst of sound echoed through the room as small fireworks erupted above him, scattering bright sparks into the air, followed immediately by a cascade of confetti that drifted lazily downward, catching the light as it fell.

Not a single student flinched.

A few didn’t even look up.

At this point, it was routine.

Valerian spread his arms wide, his grin widening as he addressed the class with theatrical enthusiasm.

"Are you all prepared?" he called out loudly, his voice echoing across the room, "you haven’t forgotten about your first party assignment today, right?"

He paused just long enough for the question to hang—

"I hope not..."

His smile sharpened.

"Hahhahahahah!"

Students began shifting from their usual scattered seating, gathering instead beside those they had been assigned to work with. Chairs scraped lightly against the floor, quiet conversations turning more focused as small groups formed across the room, each cluster settling into its own dynamic.

At the very back, Damon and Khaira’s parties occupied the last row.

Mira, Zarhka, and Vaelith had already taken their seats. Khaira dropped into her seat beside Damon with a low huff, still visibly irritated, though she said nothing further for the moment, as her party sat besides her in line.

Damon leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting forward across the room.

A faint smile formed at the corner of his lips.

Serena seated a few rows ahead, she appeared focused on something in front of her, her posture composed, expression unreadable as always—but every now and then, almost imperceptibly, her eyes shifted toward him.

Quick glances.

Damon simply watched for a moment longer before his gaze shifted away, the faint smile fading as he turned his attention back toward his own group.

His eyes moved across them briefly—

Then stopped.

A slight frown formed.

"Where is Eric?" he muttered under his breath.

And as if summoned by the question—

A figure appeared.

Eric.

He staggered into the row from the side, his movements sluggish, almost dragging himself into place as he dropped into his seat with a quiet thud. His orange hair looked messier than usual, lacking its usual brightness, and his eyes—normally sharp and lively—seemed dulled, carrying a tired, almost haunted look as though he hadn’t slept at all.

Damon looked at him for a moment.

Then asked, flatly—

"What happened to you?"

Eric slowly turned his head toward him, his expression hollow.

"If you do something major again..." he said, his voice dry and completely drained of energy, "inform me prior so I can take a leave."

He paused.

Then added, with clear frustration—

"This piece of cowards... they kept going even though I said I don’t know anything about you..."

Damon nodded once, completely unbothered, as though the situation required no further thought.

"Hmm."

His gaze shifted again, this time toward Mira.

"Did it happen with you too?" he asked casually.

Mira blinked, caught slightly off guard, before giving a small, hesitant nod.

"Y-yes..." she replied softly, her fingers tightening slightly in her lap as she recalled it.

Before anything further could be said—

Valerian’s voice cut cleanly through the room.

"So—" he began, his tone light yet carrying easily across the entire class, "who will start the presentation?"