The celebrations outside were still raging, but inside the main building of the Royal Square, the atmosphere was quieter and had the feel of a place that was reserved for the most important of people.

Lancet stood near an angel statue, holding a crystal goblet of sparkling cider he hadn’t taken a sip from. Beside him were Darian Vale and two other members of the Vanguard, Gideon and Cassian, all still riding the adrenaline high of the ceremony.

"I’m telling you, it’s already catching on," Darian said, pressing closer to Lancet. "I’ve got Class Group-C and D making sure the ’Demon Dissector’ nickname becomes even more popular."

Lancet groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. ’This again.’

"I don’t know if you have to do all that, Darian."

"Are you kidding?" Darian threw his hands up. "Everyone has to know that you dissected a Demon Head! It’s marketing, Lancet! Though..."

Darian tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing in thought. "To be specific, maybe I should change it to ’Demon Head Dissector’? It has a bit more accuracy, don’t you think?"

Horrified, Lancet shook his hands desperately, almost spilling his cider. "No! No, no, no! You know what? Now that I think about it, Demon Dissector sounds pretty awesome."

"Excuse me."

The four boys turned their heads to the sound of the crisp, highly formal voice that had cut through their banter.

A woman was standing a few feet away from them. She had a rigid formal posture and wore an immaculate crimson and gold uniform that made it clear she was a royal attendant.

"Lancet Leogardt?" she asked, her eyes fixing directly on him. "You have been summoned by the King."

The boys went wide-eyed. Cassian nearly choked on his drink.

"Me?" Lancet pointed a finger at his own chest. "The King wants to see me?"

"Yes," the woman replied smoothly, smiling with strain. "Have you already forgotten that you are the MVP of the raid?"

She turned on her heel and looked over her shoulder. "Please. Come with me."

Lancet watched her catwalk away for a moment. He swallowed hard, handing his goblet to a stunned Gideon. After giving his Vanguard teammates a helpless shrug, Lancet hurried after the attendant.

As he walked away, Darian cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted down the hall. "There he goes! The Demon Head Dissector!"

Lancet cringed, picking up his pace just to escape the echo and the looks.

The attendant led him away from the public reception halls, through a labyrinth of increasingly quiet, heavily guarded corridors. With every set of doors they passed through, the ambient noise of the festival outside faded further away, and everything became quieter and more exquisite.

Finally, they arrived before a pair of giant dark gold doors flanked by Brigadiers. The attendant bowed and opened the doors, gesturing for him to enter.

The moment Lancet stepped across the threshold, he was almost forced to his knees. Lancet squeezed up, feeling his muscles pressing against his bones.

’What the hell kind of aura is this?’

The room he had just entered was a regally designed, imperial chamber that carried an entirely different aura from the rest of the building.

The architecture was magnificent. There were gargoyles and angels sculpted for basically everything. Blood-red and pitch-black velvet curtains draped over the windows and every corner of the wall.

The room had light from somewhere Lancet couldn’t see, and was air conditioned by a device he couldn’t feel.

Seated in high-backed chairs along the edges of the room were the administrators of Awakener Supreme. Lancet recognized the style of their robes and even the way their collective presence felt.

Lancet also saw Dean Ordenance standing near the flank, hand rested on his staff.

But more worryingly, leaning against a dark stone pillar near the front, was Headmistress Danistasia Ardental. She was watching Lancet with that same scary, deeply knowing smile he remembered from the novel.

Lancet didn’t even have time to register that he had just seen the Headmistress, because she was standing right beside a large, curtain-draped oak table. And behind that table sat King Romsgard.

Lancet’s breath paused for a second. ’No wonder the aura is so strong. Just the king himself and all these administrators.’

He was a First Year standing in a den of monsters.

"Don’t be nervous, Leogardt," King Romsgard’s voice, gentler this time, broke the heavy silence. "Do come in. This is a room of people who celebrate your success."

Lancet forced his legs to move, stepping closer to the center of the dark carpet. He could physically feel their eyes following him, picking apart every detail of his posture and armor.

From the shadows near the King, Danistasia stepped forward. The dark crystals of her gown caught the unseen light, and the raven feathers of her mantle shifted smoothly. Her eyes scanned him with an intense, calculated hunger, brimming with ideas of her own.

"Lancet Leogardt," she spoke, her voice chilling the air around her. "My name is Danistasia Ardental. I am the Headmistress of your Academy, the Awakener Supreme."

Lancet stared at her, remembering the arcs involving this terrifying woman. "I’ve heard... about you," he managed to say.

The Ice Witch smiled, revealing pristine white teeth. "Of course you have." She turned gracefully toward the grand table. "You see, the King summoned you here because he wanted to meet you himself. Lancet, he has heard far too many intriguing things about you recently. Things he couldn’t help but want to witness for himself. To know if it all is true."

Near the wall, Dean Ordenance stood entirely silent, his eyes narrowed into a fierce glare directed right at the Headmistress’s back.

Lancet shifted his gaze to King Romsgard, who was looking at him with deep curiosity. "Intriguing things like what?" he asked carefully.

Danistasia smacked her dark plum lips. "Well, let’s start with your Class. Architect. You say it creates magical ladders to the past to summon whatever legend you wish?"

Lancet nodded obediently, not wanting to look too incompliant. "That’s pretty much the idea."

"The Dean corroborates this," Danistasia continued, pacing slowly like a predator circling a cage. "And many in the Academy have seen you summon the likes of Astensia Valengard, the Knight of the Greatest Gate. Thor Stormchild, the Last Valkyrie. And, of recent..."

She paused, letting the silence stretch for a moment.

"...Spectra Hexarra."

The air in the room grew hostile as the administrators reacted, shifting uncomfortably in their seats as they exchanged dark, fearful glances.

Lancet eyed the room, his muscles tensing. Bringing up the Mother of Demons in a room full of the Kingdom’s elite was akin to dropping a live grenade.

"The King wishes for you to prove it to him," Danistasia stated softly, stopping a few feet away from Lancet. "He would like for you to summon one of these legends right now, for him to witness."

Lancet looked at the King, whose expression remained unreadable. He looked at Dean Ordenance, who seemed entirely powerless to stop this, and then back at Danistasia’s unnerving, icy smile.

Something felt deeply off here. It wasn’t just the pressure of their auras weighing down on his chest. It was the setup. The framing of the question. Their raw anticipation hidden behind those plain expressions.

Lancet thought for a long, tense moment. Then he regarded the Headmistress again.

"What if I refuse?"