I Fought Kal'tsit? Seriously?

Gerald's breathing suddenly caught, and the rusty taste rising from his throat made him frown slightly.

Before that bloody-sweet scent had even fully spread through his mouth, he lowered his head to look at the jewelry in his palm.

Scarlet blood spilled from his mouth onto the surface of the gem, red as blood itself. It slowly seeped inside, as though drawn by some invisible force, and was devoured by the gem in an instant.

The gem, which had still retained four-fifths of its color, suddenly changed.

The remaining four-fifths abruptly contracted the moment the blood seeped into the gem, like ink-stained rice paper having its excess color drained away by some unknown force. Its former depth was no longer whole; part of its color had been forcibly stripped away, shrinking it down to three-fifths of its original size.

In that instant, Gerald felt a subtle tremor at his fingertips, as faint as ripples brushing across a lake's surface, yet he could keenly sense—

The essence of this thing had finally begun to change.

The proof was that, in the final instant before his consciousness completely fell into darkness, the last sight caught in the corner of his eye was the floor suddenly standing upright.

Gravity had overcome his will, dragging even his consciousness down into the abyss.

An eggshell.

He suddenly saw two eggshells. One was transparent, its details clearly visible; the other was pitch-black, like a package that had never been opened.

Inside the transparent eggshell was River Valley. He did not know what state his body was currently in, but he tried moving all four limbs at once, bringing his head closer to that eggshell.

He saw dawn break over the valley, Banshees singing together. Lamaline stood at the front of the Banshees in elaborate, splendid clothing. He saw himself as well—the Pegasus in the scene stood beside the Greater Banshee, gently taking her wrist as they walked forward together.

He moved closer and poked the eggshell with the tip of his nose, letting his consciousness easily melt into it.

But one second before entering, he saw what was inside the other eggshell.

A black sky and ocean covered that world. Blurred outlines were swallowed by constantly churning currents, then emerged again. There was no color between heaven and earth, only suffocating blackness and the instant lightning tore through the night. Something seemed to be rising and sinking at the center of the storm. It appeared to be a white-haired figure.

What did this mean?

He had no room to think. His consciousness only scattered again, gathered, and finally returned to his body.

But he still could not move.

His body was tightly bound by something, as though swallowed by heavy tides, or entangled by tough yet soft tentacles.

His consciousness abruptly cleared, and his golden eyes flew open. What entered his sight was an unfamiliar yet familiar view.

It was the ceiling of that hidden room in the Banshee Courtyard.

A faint fragrance filled the air, mixed with the calm scent of old wood. It was exactly like the place where he had briefly stayed several times before. But more than the familiar surroundings, what put Gerald on guard was that his clothes were gone—and the strange sensation wrapped around him.

His body seemed tightly enveloped by a giant octopus. Those "tentacles" were supple and elastic, carrying a distinct warmth and damp touch as they wound around his waist, arms, and even pinned down his legs.

Great.

Next, he had to consider why two people had used similar holds to lock him down in a single day.

And how things had ended up like this.

Some Things Had Changed in the Dark

"Lamaline."

"Mm?"

"May I ask why you are on this bed?"

The person in his arms responded softly. Not only did she not loosen her grip, she hugged him even tighter. Her hair brushed against Gerald's bare shoulder, making it itch faintly. Then, as though it were only natural, she buried her head deeper into his chest, her posture so natural that it seemed this was where she belonged.

Only after a moment did she realize what had happened and suddenly roll over to look into Gerald's eyes.

"You're awake?"

"Did I sleep for a long time again?" Gerald instinctively began surveying his surroundings. Ever since obtaining Dreammist Essence, he had not returned to the dream even once... Who knew whether something unexpected might happen out in the wilderness? Compared to that, wearing the necklace at Saria's home had seemed like the safer choice.

The facts proved that choice had been wrong. He should not have given up the chance to improve himself over a little risk, or he would not have ended up pinned to a sofa by that Vouivre, unable to get up.

Then again, when the events from several days ago replayed in his mind, the details of the dream seemed completely unchanged. Judging from the way his clothes had been hung and the scent carried by the wind, only one night had truly passed, without the slightest difference.

This was a stark contrast to the roughly three months he had spent unconscious before.

"But... you looked very tired... and back when you sparred with me at the Wordcraft Tower..."

After Lamaline stammered through a few words, she seemed not to know how to explain what had happened. In the end, she chose to play the ostrich. "I don't know. I was tired too, so after finishing my duties, I came straight to the room to rest. You understand, right?"

What about her Incantation?

Why had it not warned her before he woke up?

It had clearly worked before. The last time she had stayed by Gerald's side to heal him, she had hurriedly spent a minute freeing herself from Royal Court affairs before rushing to the room to wait for him to wake up. Why had it not worked this time?

"It's fine. I'm not bothered by that." Gerald adjusted himself and carefully sat up from the bed, avoiding the Banshee Queen's scattered hair. "I'm just not used to having someone sleep beside me. Aside from last time, the time before that was a long while ago. I'm worried I might not be able to control my movements on instinct."

"Are you sure you want to say that to me?"

Lamaline blinked and pointed at herself with a slender finger. Immediately afterward, an Incantation surrounded the bed. The air seemed infused with an invisible rhythm. Her body rose slightly into the air, floating gracefully for a second as her loose hair spread and drifted in the weightlessness, intertwining like flowing silk.

The next second, she landed lightly on the floor. Her metal ornaments collided with a crisp chime, and the attire of the ruler of the Royal Courts instantly emerged, taking shape against her skin.

"Mm, this is better." Satisfied, she adjusted her cuff, lifted a finger to hook back a strand of fallen hair, then turned her gaze toward Gerald, who was still standing beside the bed. The emotion in her eyes had clearly brightened because of what he had just said, and even her smile had become gentler. "Do you still think you might lose control and hurt me now?"

"We can test it."

The shirt, coat, and accessories on the rack silently trembled in an instant, then left their places and began spinning lightly through the air on the wind. The shirt collar spread across his shoulders, the sleeves naturally sliding over his arms. The coat followed, its buttons fastening steadily under the wind's control. An invisible current tightened the belt, and its metal buckle clicked softly.

Then wind gathered in the Pegasus's palm, while Incantation coiled around the Banshee's body.

Lamaline looked helplessly at Gerald, whose excitement was practically spilling from his eyes, and remembered that afternoon when she had personally asked him to spar with her.

Looking on the bright side, as long as she was strong enough, his eyes would stay on the Banshee, right?

River Valley, afternoon, inside the Wordcraft Tower.

"Through rhythms passed down for thousands of years, we can hear the footsteps of our ancestors as they traveled on foot, hear the rumble of Kazdel's migrations time and time again, hear dead trees sprout new branches, hear the low cries of beasts during Procreation. This is the Banshees' ability to communicate with nature, the origin of all Incantations..."

The elderly Banshee at the podium continued tirelessly lecturing on foundational theory, making the students below drowsy.

The already stifling classroom atmosphere became even more hypnotic under the elderly Banshee's slow tone. Most of the young Banshees leaned against their chair backs, barely holding up their heavy eyelids. A few unruly ones even secretly took out material beyond the curriculum from their clothes and began reading, paying no attention to the lesson.

Sunlight streamed through the carved window lattice into the Wordcraft Tower classroom, casting mottled shadows through the air. An occasional breeze brushed past, stirring the curtains slightly and startling a few young Banshees who were about to fall asleep, but they soon sank into even deeper lethargy.

The elderly Banshee seemed used to the students' state and remained entirely unaffected. She stood steadily in place and continued explaining in a slow, lingering tone, "—It comes from our bloodline, yet also exists within nature's pulse. Every breath, every whisper, is a telling of the laws of the world."

Seeing that few people were still paying attention to the lesson, their thoughts apparently having drifted elsewhere, the elderly Banshee sighed. Once the final grain of sand in an Incantation-made hourglass fell, she finally closed the book in her hands. "That will be all for today. We will continue tomorrow."

She planted the cane formed from Incantation firmly on the floor, slowly turned around, and hurried out of the classroom.

The door slowly closed behind her, and commotion immediately erupted in the classroom. The young Banshees who had been struggling to stay awake instantly perked up. Some rubbed their aching necks, while others held their foreheads and complained in low voices, "Oh gods, if she had gone on for one more minute, my soul would have left my body."

"Can someone tell me why basic classes are more torturous than training?"

One Banshee trying to stretch nearly snapped her fragile waist with a loud crack. "Agh—ow, ow, ow... Those old fossils are always like this. At this rate, I'm going to mutate into a Lich... They showed us something so exciting, yet in the end they were still teaching the same old stuff. If only they taught us more practical combat."

"I read that Banshees in the past learned while singing. Sometimes they even had to marinate themselves in a herb room before they could come out."

Another Banshee with round lenses pushed up her glasses. The things had no prescription and were merely a novelty brought from outside, but they made her look more knowledgeable. "Now that we have discarded the dross of the past, why not fully understand everything about the outside world? The outside world generally discriminates against Sarkaz, but look at the feathers on our ears. Who would think we are Sarkaz? They would only think we are Liberi!"

"I also hope to learn some knowledge about the outside world." Another young Banshee, who looked rather quiet, nodded in agreement with the two of them. "But that is true too. Even the Banshee Queen can lose. Maybe River Valley is not very safe either, let alone the outside world."

As her words fell, the classroom abruptly sank into an eerie silence.

Though it lasted only a few seconds, the weight of that silence was immense, as though it pressed down on everyone's hearts.

They—the only eight young Banshees in the entire Banshee population—had all witnessed that breathtaking battle with their own eyes.

Storms had swept through the air, Incantations had clashed, and powers that should have existed only in ancient epics and legends had been displayed before them in the most direct way possible.

Once, they had all harbored grand ambitions, dreaming that one day they could stand atop the Royal Courts and become the ruler who stood above countless Banshees. But when true powerhouses displayed their brilliance, those unrealistic fantasies shattered in an instant, turning into endless self-doubt and indescribable frustration.

Of course, there were exceptions.

In the corner, one young Banshee was sound asleep atop an invisible table in midair, her face buried in the crook of her arm. Even the heavy silence had not affected her dream. Nastya, hanging beside her, remained immersed in her book, slender fingers turning the pages as though everything around her had nothing to do with her.

Pop.

The sleeping young Banshee was suddenly startled awake by the sound of a sleep bubble bursting. She dazedly lifted her head and looked around. "Class is over? Is it time to eat?"

"There is another class." Nastya answered casually while turning to the next page and studying the questions and answers in the textbook again. "It is still theory. The Banshee Queen adjusted the schedule just now and moved tomorrow's class to today."

"It can't be the Banshee Queen herself, can it?!" Terror suddenly covered the young Banshee's face. "Does that mean I can't sleep?"

"...What made you think you could sleep during the last class?"

If this girl had not developed resistance even to Incantation, managing to sleep in the air after being tied up, that elderly Banshee would not have noticed Nastya turning pages during class and punished them both.

Nastya finally sighed. "Anyway, we will be hanging here for the next class too. Let's hope the Banshee Queen does not teach it herself... Otherwise, we will probably leave a very bad impression on her."

Even though those two had personally sent her into the sky once, Nastya did not think she was particularly special. Rather, she had quickly realized that the Banshee Queen's expectations of her lay in her potential to try solving a problem after raising it.

However, the outcome was often worse than she expected.

The classroom door was pushed open, and the young Banshees' eyes immediately gathered at the entrance. A figure walked in, but unlike the image they had imagined, that was indeed Banshee clothing—only it was being worn by a man.

The silver Pegasus walked in.

There were still quite a few bloodstains on his face and hands. They seemed to have recovered somewhat under the effects of Incantation, but they could not hide the fact that he had been injured.

Yet in the eyes of the young Banshees, this was more terrifying than anything else. Aside from Nastya, everyone stopped breathing in that instant.

Gerald looked at the classroom full of people who barely dared to breathe, blinked, and said subtly, "I suggest you think back to the scene of our first meeting. It seems I did not do anything to you then, did I? So why are you afraid of me now?"

The entire room fell silent.

That silence lasted for about a minute. Gerald lightly leaned against the wall at the back and quietly waited, hoping someone in the crowd might answer his question.

Until one young Banshee raised her hand—it was the one who had first wished for more practical combat lessons.

"Go ahead."

The young Banshee took a deep breath and slowly said, "Because you can kill us, and we cannot fight back. Even the Banshee Queen might not be able to keep you here."

"Correct." Gerald casually pointed into the air, and the wind directly carried Nastya and the other young Banshee back to their original seats. The Incantation binding them was completely crushed before it even had the strength to resist.

"But you can rest assured. The Banshee Queen has her own way of judging people, one she developed through war and experience. Otherwise, she would not entrust your lives to me so calmly. For all we know, my surroundings are filled with traps made of Incantation that will automatically trigger the moment I harbor malicious intent."

Gerald walked to the center of the classroom. The rooms within the Wordcraft Tower largely retained their ancient qualities: stone walls, wooden desks, and light sources formed from Incantation. It was clearly far from comfortable, but perfectly suited for teaching.

He continued, "She asked me to help you understand some things about the outside world, so you can better adapt to the possibility of living away from the group in the future. But you are probably tired of theory. I think practical lessons will be easier for you to understand."

"For example, you might be walking through an alley in a large city, trying to avoid others' eyes, only to suddenly be ambushed and forced to take out your Bone Pen and Incantation to fight back..."

Under everyone's puzzled gazes, several inconspicuous pieces of iron ore quietly floated into the classroom from the entrance. They first drifted slowly in midair, then seemed to be drawn together. They collided, connected, adjusted their angles, and gradually assembled like a puzzle, clumsily forming the shape of the powered armor he remembered from the station.

Wind, acting as the vessel of his will, filled that "body."

Gerald packed the potential energy of a gale into the powered armor's right hand. Its dark cannon barrel aimed at the Banshees, who were staring at each other and sharing their shock through their eyes.

Then the powered armor simply flew up.

"This is what you might encounter."

The Pegasus nodded seriously, continuing the thought he had left unfinished. "It's fine. Today, we will first see how each of you reacts to this thing. Next time, I will teach you how to dismantle this machine, how to break down the enemy's offensive step by step. Those methods can naturally be applied to other enemies as well. We have plenty of time. We will take it apart and learn it step by step."

"But you must remember this well. This is the enemy you will face in the future while resting in River Valley."

His gaze met the surprise in Nastya's eyes. Then he looked away and emphasized to all the young Banshees:

"As the most basic of basics."

Elsewhere.

While Gerald was busy tormenting the young Banshees, Lamaline had naturally not been idle either.

She was busy receiving an unexpected guest... Although the other party did indeed have permission to enter River Valley freely, such a sudden visit still caught her somewhat off guard.

Especially when the other party revealed a smile upon seeing her for the first time, one that was unexpected yet somehow entirely expected.

"I was not wrong, Lamaline. He truly is someone you can trust, isn't he?"

The Demon King gently accepted the tea offered by Incantation and spoke thus to the Banshee Queen.

Hello, Theresa