Xia Mi's Distant Vision

"Huff... huff... huff."

"...A dream?"

The first ray of sunlight shone into the room, minimalist to the point of lacking any girlish touch. Passing through the white lace curtains and dark teal velvet drapes, Xia Mi sat bolt upright in bed in her old district house, drenched in cold sweat. Her startled gaze swept over the floor-to-ceiling window concealed behind drawn curtains.

A nightmare she had not had in centuries—an absolute omen of misfortune.

She could not remember even half a clear image from the nightmare, only a vague scene.

That blurred scene was like an aged reel of film. It seemed to be a dream related to her observation target... Chu Zihang. He was the only figure she could identify. There had also been a giant dragon... Fenrir, in the dream. As for what had happened in it, she knew nothing at all.

There had also been another figure, blurred to the extreme. No matter how hard she thought, she could not recall it, yet it had definitely been someone crucial, playing an utterly vital role in the dream.

As a pure-blooded dragon, she rarely dreamed. The only dream she had ever had that could be called a nightmare was probably one about the former "New Age"—the day the Black Throne burned atop the world's highest mountain. Scalding blood flowed down like lava, dyeing the entire mountain red and melting the snow and ice with its heat.

That was the day the world cracked apart, forever remembered by every dragon that had lived through that era. It was an epoch-making day. Whenever she recalled it, unease welled up in her heart, because it was both the past and a prophecy. One day, black membranous wings would sweep across the sky and bring boundless despair.

As a Dragon King, she would never have a nightmare without reason, much less lose so many memories related to it.

Dreams were places where consciousnesses easily converged. The purer the bloodline, the more one could perceive the future hanging high above this planet. If an invisible hand stirred the countless intersections of consciousness, then it was the web of fate beneath Skuld's scissors.

Xia Mi rested her hands on her legs, squinting and swaying slightly as she sat on the bed, trying to remember.

Chu Zihang... the sole clue connected to the dream, and perhaps one of its cores as well.

Perhaps she needed to find a way to change her original strategy.

Shilan High School, the place where she and Chu Zihang had once stayed.

Cassell College, where Chu Zihang was now, and also where dragon slayers gathered. She was already one of the Cassell Preparatory Class's most outstanding students. Perhaps she could choose to move ahead of schedule...

"Be careful, Xia Mi. The enemy is hidden while you are exposed."

Xia Mi pressed her temples, hugged her fluffy Rilakkuma pillow, and pursed her lips as she looked out the window. After a moment's thought, she drew back the curtains and bathed in the sunlight.

But she could not simply sit and wait for death.

If you did not go to the center of the whirlpool, did that mean the whirlpool would not drag you in?

A sovereign could not show weakness lightly.

She had a feeling that she was already caught in some whirlpool. Those eyes in the darkness had once again fixed upon people like her, those who had once been noble. A chaotic wind born from the darkness deep within this world was slowly blowing toward her and her brother. There was no escaping it.

Illinois, outskirts of Chicago, Cassell University.

"Mingfei is about to enroll early! The principal promised that once he enrolls, he can take the 3E Exam with the preparatory student batch!"

Rapid footsteps and a somewhat cheerful voice rang out in the tranquil library.

In the main hall of the Cassell Library, hundreds of thousands of scrolls and gilt-covered hardbacks crammed the carved cherrywood shelves. The scents of leather and aged paper fermented in the air, while the books in the corners mingled amid dim dust with faint beeswax and incense.

Several warm yellow iron wall lamps glowed in the dim library. Only one tall, lean figure sat reading. A black mask covered his face, and an air tube ran to a steel cylinder on a cart. He had been enjoying a fine reading atmosphere until an uninvited visitor interrupted him.

"Cough, cough cough, Professor Guderian." Von Schneider, head of the Executive Department, closed the heavy book in his hands, High-Risk Hybrid Genomes and Biological Remnants, and turned around. "If your future student enrolled once every time you mentioned this, then he would have registered as a freshman six times today already."

"But in fact, our invitation letter has not even reached his inbox. The incoming freshman knows nothing about enrolling—at least, he did not seventeen minutes ago when I checked."

He added the words coldly, as though he had not seen Guderian's smile stiffen beneath the dim lights.

"Besides, you have only been assigned as a temporary mentor. Whether his final mentor will be you or Long De Schtaedt has not yet been formally decided. Judging by the fact that his hybrid bloodline has already awakened on its own and that he may have detected the College's observers in return... Long De Schtaedt may take him after enrollment. My chances are not small either."

That bucket of cold water did not completely wake Guderian. He quickly regained his excitement and raised his voice.

"The principal already agreed... That isn't important. Nono, turn on all the lights. Why read without turning on the lights?"

"Certainly, Professor."

The enormous crystal chandelier overhead and every desk lamp lit up.

The instant the lights came on, Guderian regretted asking Nono to do it. He could clearly see Von Schneider's sharp, appraising stare.

No one at the College liked making eye contact with Von Schneider, the head of the Executive Department, while he was working. It was like staring at the edge of a blade from mere centimeters away.

Even the old professors who were his friends in private did not want to do that. They had no problem joking and chatting with Schneider during his leisure time, but at least twenty-eight days of every month counted as work time for him. Once Schneider started working, he became cold-blooded and rigid.

Guderian stammered as he changed how he addressed him. "Y-you? Sir, do you think something is wrong? You're making me nervous by staring at me like that. I need a drink of water."

After all, he and Schneider were not close enough to listen to old records with their arms around each other's shoulders in private, like Manstein did.

"We've known each other for forty years. You don't need to... play dumb and ask questions you already know the answer to in front of me. Sometimes your acting is terrible." Schneider waved a hand. "You've imagined things too beautifully."

"You mean?" Guderian was somewhat dumbfounded. The lifetime professorship that had seemed within reach now looked like a cooked duck flying away—and before it flew, he had not even caught a whiff of it.

"This may not be an assignment that makes everyone smile sincerely."

Schneider paused, then handed over a mission agreement for Executive Department personnel and pointed at the stack of documents Guderian was carrying.

"They were the ones who had you come to the library to find me for approval, weren't they? If this were a standard enrollment, why would they come to me instead of those people in Admissions?"

"The principal's decision to enroll this S-Rank early was largely because the Board of Trustees raised related doubts. And what was ultimately decided was... that Lu Mingfei should enroll at Cassell as soon as possible and take the 3E Exam, provided his safety could be confirmed. I imagine the Board of Trustees is not trying to confirm the safety of you, the one who sent the invitation."