The sun above Astrea Academy sank beneath the horizon, leaving a bleeding smear of amber orange that slowly surrendered to the heavy, ink-black grip of night. The atmosphere inside the academy complex was usually alive with the hum of students returning from the library or training grounds. Tonight, however, the air felt suffocatingly heavy, pregnant with an unnatural, coiled tension.

Inside his silent dormitory room, Rian sat behind his small wooden desk. An open alchemy ledger lay before him, though his attention was entirely divorced from the text on the page. His razor-sharp senses, honed through countless life-or-death battles, had been trained to detect the slightest atmospheric shift. Since early morning, he had felt it—the chillingly tight perimeter patrols by academy wardens and the sharp, venomous glides of suspicion cast by Julian’s aristocratic lackeys across the corridors.

Rian slid open his wooden desk drawer to retrieve a spare quill. His hand froze mid-motion upon spotting a foreign object resting neatly within the tightly locked compartment.

A weathered, dark-gray parchment envelope, reeking of the distinct, metallic tang of fresh blood.

Rian’s brow furrowed. Not a soul in this academy knew the exact location of his private quarters, let alone dared to plant something inside his secured desk without tripping the intricate shadow-wards he had woven around it. With cautious precision, he lifted the envelope and tore the wax seal.

As he unfolded the letter tucked inside, a sheet of fresh, dripping crimson met his gaze. The dark red ink spelled out a short sentence that immediately plunged the ambient temperature of the room into a glacial freeze:

"If you want to see that orphan girl who always keeps you company—Elia—keep breathing tomorrow morning, come alone to the Abandoned Old Tower at the northern edge of the academy forest right at midnight. Bring no one, or you will find nothing of her except pieces tucked inside a box."

Rian’s gaze turned razor-sharp, freezing over like winter ice.

Elia. The sole commoner girl who had remained his steadfast confidante at the academy, frequently sharing study notes and helping him sort rare alchemy ingredients amidst his grueling double life as a shadow judge. A gentle soul utterly blind to forbidden grimoires, shadow sects, or the lethal, blood-drenched feuds tearing through the aristocratic factions.

They're using Elia as bait, Rian thought, a surge of cold, murderous fury churning deep within his meridian pathways. Julian’s faction and those corrupt higher-ups have completely lost their minds out of desperation after a week of unbroken terror. They think holding someone close to me will draw me out into the open.

To a hardened mercenary from his past life, a hostage was the ultimate vulnerability—yet simultaneously the most readable, manipulative tool an enemy could wield. Rian knew full well that stepping into the Abandoned Old Tower at midnight meant walking straight into a slaughterhouse rigged with execution runes and elite noble ambushes.

Yet, ignoring the letter was never an option. Elia possessed zero combat magic to shield herself from the sadistic claws of those aristocratic animals.

Rian rose smoothly from his chair. He shrugged his midnight-black coat over his shoulders, slipped a mana-infused carved wooden dagger into his inner pocket, and checked the circulating shadow current humming across his palms.

Just as Rian pivoted toward the window to slip out into the dark undetected, a deafening, piercing wail tore through the nocturnal stillness of the academy.

Aooooo-ng! Aooooo-ng!

Emergency magical sirens shrieked in harsh, simultaneous unison across every corner of the campus. The defensive rune lights along the stone corridors, which usually pulsed in a calm, steady hum, violently fractured into a blinding, blood-red glare.

Outside his window, the transparent energy dome shielding the entire Astrea Academy complex began to shiver violently, snapping shut all inbound and outbound portals of transit. The main iron gates slammed into place with a definitive mechanical lock, and the administrative loudspeaker broadcasted a chilling automated decree: the academy was officially under total lockdown due to a high-level intruder threat.

Rian halted mid-step. He stared out the glass at the crimson lattice web sealing off the outside world.

An academy lockdown synchronized precisely with the delivery of Elia's abduction threat proved only one thing: this trap wasn't just some petty, impulsive stunt pulled by Lord Julian. It was a fully orchestrated, high-clearance operation backed by the direct blessing of the academy’s highest leadership—designed to permanently isolate Rian from the world outside, and bury him along with their darkest secrets.