Daemon weighed his options. If he lost Yulda's trust, his current weakness would leave him vulnerable. All or nothing. "The Hyls Sisters," he blurted out.
Yulda's eyes widened, her hand clutching her dress. "The Hyls Sisters? That's... dangerous, Daemon."
He suppressed a sigh of relief. She believed him. Mentioning the Hyls Sisters, known in the shadows as the Triad, was a risky but logical gamble. These witches, sworn enemies of the elven royalty, were legends. Fewer than fifty people knew their true names, and a kid like him couldn't have learned it without a reliable source.
"Not as dangerous as dealing with a demon," he replied, feigning nonchalance.
Yulda smirked. "True. You have a task to fulfill for them, I presume?"
"Yes, but nothing complicated. Don't worry."
She stood, smoothing her dress. "I hope so. I don't want to see you entangled in those madwomen's games. Rest now."
"Alright," Daemon murmured, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as she left the room.
Alone, his headache intensified. He'd gotten himself into another impossible situation. The Hyls Sisters were feared for their divination spells. By uttering their name, he'd drawn their attention. They likely already knew what he'd said. Worse, if they discovered he wasn't from this world—a secret he guarded fiercely—the consequences would be disastrous. *I hope they can't see that...*
He closed his eyes, pain and anxiety intertwining in his mind. The Khaïbet, the Hyls Sisters, Darian's hostility... It all converged on him. For now, he could only wait, hoping his lie wouldn't catch up with him.
---
**River Domain, One Week After the Dungeon Collapse**
The River Domain sprawled across lush lands, crisscrossed by crystal-clear rivers that wound through verdant valleys. These waterways, fed by mountain springs, were the pride of the territory, which boasted the largest coastline on the human continent. White-sand beaches, bordered by sheer cliffs, attracted merchants and travelers, while bustling ports teemed with ships laden with goods.
At the domain's heart, the River family manor stood atop a hill overlooking a roaring river. Built of white stone, its slender towers were adorned with stained-glass windows depicting ancient battle scenes. The impeccably maintained gardens were filled with rosebushes and marble fountains. Inside, carpeted corridors led to vaulted-ceiling halls decorated with legendary armor and weapons.
In his study, Jaedan River, the only son of Davies River, sat behind a large desk. The room, bathed in light from a window overlooking the river, smelled of leather and ink. Shelves groaned under scrolls and bound books, while a map of the continent adorned one wall. A pile of documents lay before Jaedan: reports on his subordinates, statistics on the academy's gains and losses from the past year. He ruffled his white hair, his tired blue eyes scanning the numbers. With a sigh, he slumped into his padded chair, the leather creaking under his weight.
"This year's going to be tougher..." he muttered, rubbing his temples. "I need to find a way to counter the prince."
The imperial Rê family dominated the continent, supported by four great noble houses, including the Rivers. But this alliance was a facade. In truth, the noble houses bent under the emperor's overwhelming authority. Once, each family ruled an independent kingdom, vying for territory in bloody wars. The first emperor reduced them to archduchies, forcing them to swear fealty. The academy, where the heirs of the great houses converged, was a disguised arena. Factions competed for resources—artifacts, grimoires, mana stones, dungeons—and a misstep could ruin an entire house.
Prince Leonard von Arcadia, the imperial heir, was the main obstacle. At nineteen, he combined an impeccable reputation with exceptional talent, wielding a five-star aura with deadly precision. Jaedan, despite his own four-star aura and Misi-Genebig lance, struggled to compete. To close the gap, he'd formed a faction with Isra Moonshade, heir to another noble house. Their alliance, though promising, remained fragile against imperial power.
"The first years will be an opportunity," Jaedan muttered, picking up a file on new students. The elves, loyal to Liam Dawnflare, the elven crown prince, were out of reach. The alfumans were unpredictable. Some would join Setsuna's faction, a woman as talented as she was elusive. Others would form mercenary groups within the academy, selling their services to the highest bidder.
Jaedan flipped through profiles. One name caught his attention: Morgan. "The son of the katana-wielding madwoman?" He squinted, studying the photo. Morgan, seventeen, had a slender build, short brown hair, and glowing red eyes. His face, beautiful but androgynous, lacked pronounced masculine features. "A three-star aura at his age... Not bad." He noted the absence of information on his mana awakening, an intriguing detail. Jaedan moved on, ignoring Lucas's file.
He uncorked a bottle of wine from a side table and poured ruby liquid into a crystal glass. Rising, he walked to the window, watching the rivers shimmer in the sunlight. He took a sip, the fruity taste soothing his nerves. A knock at the door interrupted him.
"Don't disturb me when I'm working!" he snapped.
A hesitant voice replied. "It's just... young Lord Moonshade called suddenly..."
Jaedan sighed, setting down his glass. He opened the door, snatching the communication orb from the maid's hands—a young woman in a gray dress. Back at his desk, he infused mana into the orb, a spherical artifact etched with runes. A hologram projected onto the wall, revealing Isra Moonshade.
This world, though medieval in appearance, benefited from advanced technology, the result of discoveries by the Hyls Sisters' apprentices. These witches, operating under code names, sold their inventions—communication orbs, enchanted weapons, mana engines—on the black market to avoid scrutiny. Their artifacts revolutionized the continent, but their origin remained a mystery.
The hologram showed Isra, twenty, shirtless, his red hair damp with sweat. Lying on a bed, he was surrounded by two women applying oils to his muscular back, their movements suggestive. Jaedan frowned, irritated by the display.
"What brings you here, Isra? I hope it's good news, because I'm short on that."
Isra chuckled, narrowing his hazel eyes. "What, you couldn't counter Kara?"
Jaedan clenched his teeth. "You think it's easy? She refuses to join us. We can only destroy her."
Isra waved the women away, his tone turning serious. "The most logical solution is to target her weak link: Daemon."
Jaedan smirked. "That's what I thought, but we were wrong."