Between War and Peace
After reclaiming Hwaeryun, we received official word that reinforcements from the Slatemark Empire would soon bolster the Eastern front. The announcement came with another significant update: student conscription was officially over. We were to return to Mythos Academy—though not immediately, as the fourth year wouldn't commence until later.
For now, we had final exams to contend with in May, which would mark the completion of our third year and secure our diplomas from the lower years. The Academy remained suspended for the time being, with theoretical classes conducted online. A strange limbo, this pause between war and education, as though the two could be neatly compartmentalized.
It also meant we would inevitably gain a new professor. The thought darkened my mood.
Professor Nero, my mentor, had been killed by Alyssara Velcroix. He had stood against her to protect me, and for that, he paid the ultimate price.
Alyssara Velcroix. Her name alone sent a ripple of unease through my thoughts. She wasn't just an enemy; she was an enigma. Somehow, she carried memories of a past life where she had known Art, and those memories fueled her obsession with me. That obsession, combined with her near-peerless strength, made her extraordinarily dangerous.
Her power was terrifying. It rivaled Magnus Draykar's, placing her far beyond my reach—at least for now. Even entertaining the thought of battling someone of her caliber seemed absurd.
"One step at a time," I muttered under my breath, grounding myself. There was no point in worrying about Alyssara when I still had so far to climb. My immediate goal was to reach Ascendant-rank within the next year.
Integration-rank was a challenge in itself, divided into four levels: low, mid, high, and peak. However, unlike the ranks beyond, the divisions within Integration-rank carried unique challenges.
The leap from low to mid Integration-rank was the most significant. Low Integration-rank was the stage where Intent first formed—a fundamental step for anyone on the martial path. But mid Integration-rank marked the birth of Resonance, a state where one's connection to their weapon or magic deepened to a level that defied simple explanation.
High and peak Integration-rank focused more on refining mana capacity and output, preparing one for the monumental challenge ahead. Reaching peak Integration-rank meant standing before the Wall, a nearly insurmountable barrier that separated the mortal realms from the true power of Ascendant-rank.
Scaling the Wall required the formation of the Heart—in my case, the Sword Heart. It was a monumental transition that not only amplified one's power but triggered the first body metamorphosis, granting the ability to wield astral energy. It was the beginning of a new era for any warrior or mage who succeeded.
The stages were simple to name but far from simple to achieve: Intent to Resonance to Heart to Domain to Unity. Among these, the leap from Resonance to Heart was the most daunting. It wasn't just a growth in strength; it was a transformation that demanded an unparalleled mastery of self.
This was the threshold I would need to cross within a year.
The path felt monumental, but I wasn't daunted by the challenge itself. What concerned me was how long it might take. Time was an enemy in itself, one I could not afford to waste.
Of course, after scaling the Wall, I would be far stronger than I am now. The leap wasn't just a matter of raw power—it was a transformation that would elevate me to an entirely new realm of combat. The prospect filled me with both anticipation and trepidation.
The higher one climbed, the harder it became to skip mana ranks in battle. Talent became increasingly concentrated at the upper echelons, and those who reached those heights were paragons of relative strength. Every advantage would be needed, including the mystery of what Astral Manifestation might become when combined with true astral energy. I'd asked Luna about it, but she had been maddeningly evasive, offering only a cryptic, "You'll find out soon enough."
Scaling the Wall wasn't just about raw strength or skill, though. It would open up new opportunities and avenues for me to pursue. My plans were already taking shape: dealing with the enigmatic Tower of Alchemy, forging an alliance with Charlotte, and prying more answers out of Luna. Then there was the matter of securing an 8-star adventurer license. That would elevate my guild to a level just shy of the Twelve Great Guilds of the Slatemark Empire—a position of power and influence I intended to leverage fully.
"You're thinking a lot, Arthur," Seraphina's voice drew me from my musings. She had approached quietly, her soft steps muted against the earth.
"Future thoughts," I said, scratching the back of my head.
She tilted her head in that familiar way, her crystalline blue eyes alight with curiosity. The simple gesture was endearing, and I couldn't help but smile.
"Are you going to keep fighting?" I asked, curious about her plans.
Seraphina looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "The war makes you stronger in some ways but not in others. I think I'll focus on preparing for exams and training by myself for a while."
She had a point. War was a crucible, forging strength through relentless experience. There was no substitute for the brutal clarity of battle. But isolation training offered something war couldn't: self-understanding and the refinement of mana. It was a question of balance. War could push you to your limits, but solitude let you master them. Together, they created the ideal path for growth.
"Both are important," I said, voicing my thoughts. "War hones your instincts, but isolation lets you break through limits. If you have to choose, war's better for growth overall. But doing both… that's the best way."
Seraphina nodded, her expression thoughtful. "We have a victory banquet coming up, by the way," she said.
"Here?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not today," she clarified with a smile. "In a few days. The Archduke will be attending too."
Ah, the Archduke. His presence alone would elevate the banquet from a simple celebration to a significant political event.
Still, celebrating victories—even small ones—was crucial in a war. Morale could make or break an army, and nothing lifted spirits quite like a feast.
"I suppose a little celebration won't hurt," I said, my tone light, though a part of me was already dreading the social entanglements such events often brought.
"And a lucky boy will have two princesses as his dates," Seraphina teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'm sure Cecilia will be absolutely green with envy when I post pictures of this on social media."
I shook my head, a small laugh escaping me. But her words struck a chord deeper than she probably realized. A pang of longing flickered through me at the thought of Cecilia. She hadn't been able to leave the Imperial Palace, her father's overbearing protection ensuring she stayed firmly within its gilded walls.
Convincing a Radiant-ranker emperor of anything was no small feat, and sneaking out under his watchful eye was outright impossible. It was a battle Cecilia had been fighting for weeks, and it seemed one she had lost—at least for now.
"You'll see her during the exams," Seraphina said softly, her voice taking on a rare note of tenderness. "And later. You know she'd never miss an opportunity if she could help it."
I nodded, forcing a smile that I hoped conveyed more confidence than I felt. "Yeah, I know."
Seraphina clapped her hands, the light sound breaking the somber mood. "Anyway, we need to get ready for this banquet," she announced, her usual cheerful energy returning.
I glanced around at our surroundings, the barren terrain and utilitarian structures of the camp stark reminders of the war we were still embroiled in. "Wait a second—how are we even having a banquet in this… wasteland?" I gestured broadly to the desolate, scorched earth surrounding us.
"Technology, Arthur. Technology," Seraphina replied with a grin, as though it explained everything.
"Care to elaborate?" I raised an eyebrow.
She crossed her arms, clearly enjoying my incredulity. "You'd be amazed what the Gu and Moyong families can do when they work together. Portable structures, atmospheric enchantments, projection technology. You won't even recognize this place by the time they're done setting up."
I let out a low whistle, shaking my head in amusement. "And here I was expecting a campfire and some rations."
"Please," Seraphina scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder with an exaggerated air of superiority. "We're not barbarians. This is a victory banquet, Arthur. We celebrate properly."
Her playful tone managed to draw a genuine smile from me. For all her teasing, there was something comforting about Seraphina's unflappable optimism. She had a way of finding levity even in the most dire situations, and it was a reminder I sorely needed: amidst all the battles and bloodshed, there was still room for joy, however fleeting.
"All right," I said, raising my hands in mock surrender. "Lead the way, Your Highness. I'll trust your expertise on proper victory celebrations."
"Good choice," she quipped, flashing me a triumphant grin. "Now remember to get ready. You're not showing up looking like you just crawled out of a battlefield."
I glanced down at my dirt-streaked armor and disheveled appearance. "Fair enough," I admitted, though my tone carried a hint of reluctance.
As I turned to head to my quarters, her voice followed after me, light and teasing. "And don't forget, Arthur—you've got a reputation to uphold. Two princesses as your dates, remember?"
Her words lingered, both in their humor and in the quiet truth they carried. For a moment, I let myself imagine Cecilia's presence beside us, her laughter mingling with Seraphina's. It wasn't a perfect image, but it was a hopeful one.
Hope was all I needed to keep moving forward. For now, a banquet awaited. And maybe, just maybe, I could allow myself to enjoy it.