A few miles away from the Eventide Academy, the engine of a small ship rumbled as it began to ascend. Four propellers spun with power—and lifted the entire ship up before the thruster on the back pushed it forward.

Inside a small private room within the ship, the Chancellor sat down and opened his mask.

Just like his frame already depicted, he’s a man of age and power. His features are sharp, and there was a scar crossing his entire face, starting from the left side of his forehead and crossing all the way down to his right chin.

Anyone could tell from that scar alone that he had seen his fair share of battle.

One that now made him the Chancellor of the Eventide Academy.

He looked out the window in silence.

From the looks of it, there was something inside his mind that was disturbing him.

Visible through the frown on his face.

Soon, the automatic door swung open as a student entered—Ragnar.

"Chancellor," He stopped and saluted, placing a hand against his chest. "After your monthly meeting to discuss the mined mana ores and shipment, you’ll have another meeting waiting for you. I’ve gotten a message from Archangel Morriva, and she requested your presence.

"I believe she’s going to discuss the lack of contribution of our academy in the Second Sky," Ragnar added with clear concern in his voice. "I’m certain this was Caer Zarrow picking a fight with us. After we sent so many of our finest north, many casualties, they now wanted to push us down further."

Despite the situation, the Chancellor didn’t seem deterred.

He was used to this kind of situation.

In the world of Angels, even those in power like him were not exempt from one absolute rule.

That the weak would be rooted out.

Anyone who showed signs of weakness would be attacked. It was the same as bleeding in front of a predator; there’s no chance the predator wouldn’t pounce. Because of that, the Chancellor already expected this and doesn’t seem to be surprised.

"I believe we should root out more Angels," Ragnar suggested—his voice tight with concern. "If we thin down more of our number, that would allow us to concentrate our resources fully on the High Angels—and also win favour from the Lower Olympus. I’ve heard rumors that Caer Zarrow Academy has three students who are now Grade-3 Ascendant Supernals, so it’s going to be hard going against them.

"If we don’t take this seriously, your entire department would be replaced." He added grimly.

Students are pressured to fight for survival as Angels.

Many would find it harsh or even outright cruel, as they were normal people before.

Not someone with prior training.

But the culture shock they experienced served a purpose; it was a necessary filter, designed to identify who among them could truly live as Angels. Even as they climbed through the ranks and ascended to higher skies, that pressure would never relent.

Even the Chancellor was still under pressure.

Under the pressure to survive.

Make enough mistakes, and he, too, would be dispatched like any other angel.

Academies across the cloud colonies have three responsibilities that they need to manage.

One is the most important one, the yearly mana ore quota, which was to be handed over and managed by the Association of Angel Academies. Second, the obligation to produce enough strong Angels to be stationed on higher skies to serve as Assault Units or Aegis Units.

Main units that are tasked to confront the Sky Gates directly.

Students who couldn’t meet the requirement for entering those units would be screwed.

No more future for them other than being Guardian Angels.

Angels who guarded establishments across the cloud colonies had limited positions.

And lastly, the academies are also responsible for managing bloodline quotas, demanded by Lower Olympus based on the concentration of existing Demon Supernals. Failure on any of these responsibilities enough times, and the entire department of the failing academy would be replaced.

It meant death to the Chancellor and everyone under him.

No exceptions. No second chances.

Ragnar’s worry was natural, as the consequences are dire.

"What have the Lesser Angel been doing lately?" the Chancellor suddenly asked.

"Ermm..." Ragnar was caught off guard, not expecting to be asked that. He tapped on the pad in his hand and checked on the list. "He had been busy mining. And even now, he somehow managed to meet his weekly quota."

"Is there someone helping him?"

"I don’t thi—No, wait, I think I remembered seeing a High Angel being close with him."

"Who is it? Give me the name."

"If I remembered correctly, it should be High Angel Bree."

"High Angel Bree...?" A frown creased the Chancellor’s forehead when he heard the name, a reaction Ragnar had rarely seen. It was not anger. Not confusion. It was something closer to worry. "And? Is there any more news about the Lesser Angel?"

"Professor Kimberly said he and Bree are trying to make a group."

"A group, huh... I see."

"Chancellor, I don’t understand why we are talking about him," Ragnar decided to be blunt, too worried about the situation. "What are we going to do with our deficit number of capable Angels on the Second Sky?"

"I’m talking about the Lesser Angel because he’s the reason we’re in this situation. He’s the reason our bloodline quota is lower than we are aiming for," the Chancellor finally turned to look at Ragnar directly in the eyes. "He’s surviving. What do you think is the impact of he surviving on the other Blooded Angels?"

"I... I don’t unde—"

"All of them became hopeful. Seeing someone beneath them surviving made them even more determined to survive. We have never had a problem with fulfilling the Lower Olympus’ fair request of divine bloodline quota, so why do you think we’re having trouble now?"

Only then did Ragnar realize what the Chancellor was thinking.

Normally, out of the thousands of new students the academy accepted each year, only a thousand, often fewer, survived the Blood Rite. And in the days that followed, that number would rapidly dwindle to a few hundred.

All because of the Culling of Nonentity ceremony.

But now, even after everything, there are still more than five hundred students.

Not a lot of students ended their lives from the traumatic experience, and that meant there are many divine bloodline quotas that are still stuck in them. That also placed the academy on the grey side in the Lower Olympus’ eyes.

It was all because of the Lesser Angel.

"As for our thinning presence—in the Second Sky..." The Chancellor’s gaze drifted back to the window. "I will handle it. If we can’t supply enough capable Angels, then we simply need to ensure we’re not the academy with the lowest contribution. Survival is relative.

"For the time being, find a way to crush that Lesser Angel’s spirit." He added firmly.

"Sir?" Ragnar frowned. "Crushed his spirit? Why not find a way to kill him?"

"I warned him. I already told him to abandon his meaningless ambition, and yet he persists. Now, he’s even forming a group." A dangerous glint flickered in the Chancellor’s deadly red eyes. "For that... I want to see him crushed. I want to watch him kill himself."

"I understand," Ragnar bowed and excused himself.

...

Inside a basement.

Consciousness returned to Kai like fire throughout his body.

The first thing he felt was the burning sensation. It radiated through every muscle, and every joint—a deep and sullen ache that pulsed with the rhythm of his heartbeat. His back throbbed where the fireballs had struck.

His broken shoulder screamed.

Even his fingers, curled loosely against the bed, tingle with the strain and feeling of blood.

For a long, disoriented moment, there was nothing but the pain.

It took a minute before other sensations surfaced.

Something soft was pressed against his side. Not the dull softness of bedding, but something warmer. Something alive. It rose—and fell in a slow, calm rhythm, and with each rise came a soft brush of air against his neck.

Air that ghosted across his skin in patient intervals.

Kai’s eyelids trembled as he forced his eyes open.

He was instantly met by the familiar ceiling staring back at him. The rough stone of his room, the faint cracks across its walls like veins, and the comforting air that could ease him a bit—a familiar air.

Even though he hadn’t stared at it often enough, he still recognized it.

Finally, he was back in his room.

The memories drifted to him. Talitha had helped him return to his room; he remembered that much. Her small frame had struggled, trembling beneath his weight, but she’d been stubborn, determined, refusing to stop until she guided Kai down the staircase.

Guide him back to the bed.

But at the last few steps, her body gave out, and they’d both tumbled the rest of the way.

After that, there was only darkness.

I hope she’s okay.

Kai blinked when he noticed notifications from the system hovering in front of him.

[Quest: Night Elevation — Completed]

[You have obtained Black Starfall and gained access to the Second Floor]

He squinted at the notifications through bleary eyes—and despite the ache that still wracked his body, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He’d done it. He’d truly completed the Night Elevation. The rewards awaited him once more.

One should be an Imprint, as for the other, he has no idea.

Excitedly, Kai tried to move, to sit up properly and examine what he had gained.

But his body refused to obey.

Something was holding him down. Not because his body had no more strength—he’d known if it was pure exhaustion. This was different. Pressure. A deliberate restraint. Kai turned his head to the side and immediately felt his heart stutter.

Bree.

She was asleep on the bed beside him, utterly defenseless.

Her body was curled against his side. Both her arms were wrapped loosely around his neck, and her cheek rested against his chest like it was the most natural pillow in the world—as though she’d been listening to his heartbeat while she drifted off to sleep.

One of her legs had crossed over his body, pinning him to the mattress with her weight.

Despite sleeping on a guy’s bed, her breathing came slow and steady, like this was nothing.

Each exhale was a warm whisper against his throat.

Kai looked down and realized she was barely wearing anything.

Just his black shirt—oversized on her; the collar slipping off one shoulder and the hem riding high on her thighs. The fabric did little to cover her flawless, bare legs, which tangled perfectly with his own.

In the dim light of his own basement, safety should’ve persisted.

But now, as Kai’s mouth went dry and the burning in his body suddenly found competition, he realized that he was in a completely different kind of peril.