The fall of the Academy was always inevitable.
Annette scurried through a sea of scattered books, dark circles shadowing her eyes as she tried to piece together information that echoed endlessly in her mind.
Too many fragments crashed together in her thoughts. She struggled to either connect them or pull them apart. Her hair hung in tangled strands, but she couldn't spare a moment to care.
Her apprentice fared worse. Vida lay buried beneath towers of books while papers littered every surface of the office.
With most Instructors absent, this was their chance. They could finally push their investigation deeper into dangerous territory.
As a Master, Annette had always held the privilege to come and teach at the Academy. But something felt wrong about this place. It started when she lost someone—someone far more than a friend—to the Academy's harsh curriculum while Rughsborough still held the President's seat.
People die due to causes all the time. People consumed by vengeance happened just as often.
But Annette wasn't driven by revenge. Felix had never regretted his choices, even when evidence surfaced that he might have been used. He remained at peace because Rughsborough had honored his end of their bargain.
Yet Felix always said one thing.
"The fall of the Academy was always inevitable."
That phrase had sparked countless debates between them.
Felix believed that Milhwa had built the Academy on that island knowing it was doomed to collapse one day—and would drag thousands of students down with it.
All for the power he craved.
Nothing backed up this wild claim. It was just Felix's gut feeling run wild or maybe not but he never showed proof to his statements. So even though Annette trusted his instincts enough to bet her life on them, she wasn't foolish enough to chase such a dangerous truth.
Until the Dark Continent incident changed everything.
That disaster drove her to the Academy.
What had Felix seen? What had Milhwa done? And what were the real consequences? Did it begin with the Academy's fall and the death of its students, or end with them?
These unanswered questions gnawed at her sanity. Every day she spent on Academy grounds felt like slow torture, and Vida bore the brunt of her obsession.
She barely slept four hours each night, lost in endless research through ancient texts. Their hunt for crucial knowledge had already uncovered shocking discoveries—including the very reason Professor Heimburger remained alive despite being human.
Of course, they could only access such forbidden information during this one week of the Milhwa festival, when security relaxed enough for them to break into the Underground Library.
Annette staggered backward and collapsed, papers scattering across her like fallen leaves. She stared at the ceiling with hollow eyes, her gaze growing distant.
A moment later, she released a heavy sigh.
Vida emerged from her paper tomb, hands first, then pulled herself free. She watched her Master for several heartbeats before speaking in a soft, careful voice.
"What do we do?"
Annette sat up and buried her face in her hands.
"This place deserves to fall, don't you think?"
Vida hesitated, then nodded slowly.
"When we consider Milhwa's crimes, his legacy should crumble. But the backlash would crush the Central Plains. If we're not careful, the Academy's weakening foundations could damage the prison holding the creature in the sea of clouds. If that happens..."
She paused.
"Even in the age of Heroes, no one could kill it. Not even the Reimgard of that time.
"We don't have a single Luminary now. We'll all die."
Annette sat in silence, then her eyes lit up.
"Maybe we won't! Northern's still out there, growing stronger every day. There's Raven too. We can rebuild the Dark Continent team. We made the impossible happen once—we can do it again!"
Vida's expression grew troubled.
"Raven..."
She shook her head.
"Something about her disturbs me. The weight she places on her goals feels too heavy, too cruel—to herself and others. Are you sure depending on her won't cause more harm than good?"
She watched Annette consider her words before continuing.
"And Northern. Yes, he's strong, but he's still just a Master or Savant. Even as a Sage, what difference would it make? Unless he's ten Sages rolled into one, I don't see him defeating something that survived the age of heroes and existed long before. This thing is nearly five hundred years old. And that's just its vestige."
Vida spoke sense, and Annette wanted to agree. If she didn't know Northern personally, she would have.
She'd watched him from the moment he awakened as a Drifter.
Nothing about that boy was normal. She wouldn't be surprised if he truly was ten Sages in one body. The problem was, even ten Sages might not be enough.
She believed Vida's logic, but in her own way. Northern was undoubtedly powerful. But was he strong enough to defeat a creature that had lived for five hundred years? Trapped for over three hundred?
She shook her head.
'I don't know.'
Silence stretched between them until rage flared within her.
"Stars! Those selfish, greedy bastards! All for power, they leave us with consequences this destructive! And Rughsborough shamelessly walks the same path!"
Annette slammed her fist on the book before her, leaving the surface with a charred mark.
A terrifying tremor shook the office floor.
Annette frowned and pressed her palm to the ground.
The tremor returned, softer but unmistakable.
Both ladies shot to their feet, tension crackling between them.
Annette turned toward the window, her voice barely a whisper.
"What's happening?"
In the distance, beyond the Academy walls, crimson clouds rolled like spilled blood. They climbed the high stone barriers and poured over the edge, reaching downward with hungry fingers.
The mist moved like a living thing—scarlet vapor that had tasted blood and hungered for more. It flowed over the walls and began its slow descent into the Academy grounds.
Annette's eyes widened as she watched, her pupils trembling with fear.
Vida crept closer, staring at the strange fog as it crawled down the wall like a predator stalking prey.
A terrible realization crept into her mind, and her voice emerged as barely more than breath.
"Sage Ann... isn't that... the Crimson Cloud?"