The cold threat from Lord Julian in the quiet corridor vanished without leaving a trace in Rian's mind. To a former elite mercenary who had been betrayed and cheated death countless times, the bluff of a spoiled noble child was like the yelp of a small dog on the roadside—noisy, but entirely harmless.

The next day, the academic schedule led the new students to various buildings across Astrea Academy's sprawling complex. While most students flocked to the popular combat elemental classes or alchemy labs, Rian chose to take a winding path toward the quietest corner of the academy: the Old Archive Building.

The building sat behind the artificial forest at the back of the campus, draped in wild creeping vines that crawled up its moss-grown stone walls. Most academy residents avoided this place. Aside from its ancient, creaking structure that groaned under every gust of wind, the building was known as the residence of Professor Vane—an eccentric professor of magic history often deemed crazy by the staff and ostracized from campus society due to his controversial theories regarding ancient, supposedly heretical magic.

Rian pushed open the massive, unlocked wooden door. The scent of thick dust, ancient parchment, and old cinnamon spice immediately greeted his senses. Inside the dimly lit main room, thousands of books were stacked in chaotic piles upon towering shelves that stretched up to the ceiling.

"Who's there? Don't touch those books unless you want your fingers to rot off from a curse!" a raspy, gravelly voice echoed from behind a stack of parchment in the corner of the room.

An old man with wild white hair, clad in a dull gray robe stained with black ink, emerged from behind the archives. His name was Professor Vane—unrelated to the noble House Vane; he was a pure academic who had dedicated his entire life to researching forgotten ancient texts. His sharp, sunken eyes behind thick-lensed glasses stared directly at Rian.

Rian showed no signs of intimidation. He stood tall on the threshold, meeting the professor's gaze with absolute composure.

"I am not afraid of curses, Professor," Rian replied in a flat tone. "And I didn't come to ruin the books. I am looking for records on pre-realm-era mana circulation."

Professor Vane's steps, which had been heading toward a bookshelf, halted instantly. The old man's body froze. He slowly turned his head, staring at Rian with an intensity that shifted drastically—no longer the bored look of an aging teacher, but the gaze of a predator discovering rare prey in the middle of a snowfield.

"Pre-realm-era mana circulation?" Professor Vane muttered softly, his voice trembling. He walked toward Rian with swift strides, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized every inch of the eleven-year-old's body. "Kid, that phrase was buried alongside the ashes of civilizations thousands of years ago. Even the grand deans on the highest magical council don't know that term. Where did you hear it?"

"From a place where history books never bothered to record it," Rian answered briefly, maintaining his highest state of readiness. Within his body, his meridian pathways and shadow energy circulation braced themselves just in case the old man showed any hostile intent.

Instead of getting angry or calling the guards, Professor Vane chuckled—a raspy laugh that echoed through the silent archive room. He turned around, walked toward his cluttered desk, and picked up an old bronze mirror carved with bizarre symbols.

"Sit down, Rian of Oakhaven," Professor Vane said without looking back, casually dropping Rian's village of origin—a detail lower-level academy staff had no business knowing. "I've been observing your exam reports since last week. The shattered crystal orb... the energy circulation that left no thermal trace... and a gaze that definitely does not belong to an eleven-year-old child."

Rian did not sit right away. He observed the professor's movements carefully before finally stepping forward, pulling out a dusty wooden chair, and sitting right across from the desk.

"The professor seems to know a lot about things this academy tries to hide," Rian probed calmly.

Professor Vane placed the bronze mirror on the desk, then locked his gaze deep into Rian's eyes. "I don't know who taught you that basic pure shadow magic technique, or where you acquired access to ancient cell-regeneration formulas. But I know one thing: the magic you use does not belong to this modern era. That is magic from an age when humanity still enslaved entities of darkness."

The atmosphere inside the archive room grew steadily heavier. The floating dust motes in the air seemed to stop moving, trapped beneath the invisible pressure of Professor Vane's sudden aura expansion—proving that beneath his messy appearance, the old man was an exceptionally dangerous, high-tier mage.

"Why did you call me here?" Rian asked straight to the point, his voice remaining cold without a hint of fear.

Professor Vane smiled thinly, revealing slightly yellowish teeth. He leaned his back against his wooden chair, folding his arms across his chest. "Because I'm sick of watching this academy fill up with arrogant noble kids who only know how to boast about their bloodlines without possessing any true talent," Vane stated bluntly. "And because... I need someone who can help me translate the final pages of a forbidden manuscript I've been researching—a manuscript bearing an energy pattern identical to the one flowing through your blood."

Rian fell silent for a moment, weighing every word from the professor. This was a gamble. On one hand, approaching Professor Vane meant exposing himself to the risk of his forbidden grimoire's secrets coming to light. On the other hand, having a mentor who understood the secrets of ancient magic within an elite academy environment would grant him an exceptionally massive tactical advantage to solidify his position.

"What is the guarantee that my secrets are safe in this place?" Rian asked sharply, staring straight into Professor Vane's eyes.

Professor Vane chuckled again, this time sounding more genuine. He picked up a large, old iron key hanging from his neck, holding it over the desk right before Rian.

Unexpectedly, the professor slid the iron key across the desk until it rested right near Rian's hand.

"I don't need a guarantee from you, kid," Professor Vane spoke with a deep, serious tone. He leaned forward, staring intently at Rian. "I know what you're hiding behind those eyes of yours, Rian. There is vengeance, there is ambition, and there is a power waiting for you to unleash it. The door at the end of that corridor over there leads to this academy's Level Three Forbidden Library—the place where dark history texts are kept locked away from the outside world."

Professor Vane smirked faintly, ending his sentence with a challenge:

"Let's see... how long you can survive before that power consumes your own soul."