Master Thorne’s room was wrapped in a cozy dimness, broken only by the flickering light of candles and the faint glow filtering through the half-open window.

The aromatic smoke from the old mage’s pipe rose in slow spirals, filling the air with a sweet herbal scent, something between lavender, cinnamon, and aged wood.

The crackling of the candles was the only constant sound, accompanied by the occasional creak of the wooden chair beneath the mage’s weight.

Lukas remained beside Clavor, his violet eyes fixed on the teacher, absorbing every word like a dry sponge.

His breathing was calm, but his heart beat faster, a mixture of anxiety and curiosity that he already knew well.

Every syllable that left Master Thorne’s mouth seemed heavy with weight, as if the very air in the room were becoming denser.

Master Thorne slowly removed the pipe from his mouth, his pale blue eyes narrowing behind the deep wrinkles that marked his face.

He looked older beneath the candlelight, his long white beard cascading over the faded blue robe like a waterfall.

The marks of time were etched into every line of his face, yet his eyes still shone with the intelligence of decades of study.

"A Rat King... Are you certain?" the mage asked, his hoarse voice carrying a gravity that made the room feel heavier.

"Yes. I confirmed it myself." Clavor replied.

Thorne frowned, his long, bony fingers drumming against the table worn by years of use.

The candlelight danced across his hands, creating shadows that moved like the fingers of giants. He seemed to be thinking about something distant, as though searching through old memories.

"This is not a simple infestation, Lord Clavor. It is something far worse. You should know that. An ancient corruption that emerges when contaminated mana accumulates within rodent colonies for too long. Deep caves, abandoned tunnels, ancient battlefields where blood and death have gathered... those are the perfect cradles for something like this to be born."

Clavor crossed his arms over his broad chest, his imposing posture filling much of the room’s limited space. His shadow stretched across the wall under the candlelight, as if he himself were a fortress.

"Explain it better, Master. Lukas has already fought some of those rats with Tilbo and Prata. He seems to want to understand exactly what we’re dealing with."

Thorne leaned back in the wooden chair, which creaked softly beneath his weight. His pale blue eyes settled on Lukas, studying him with an intensity that made the boy feel examined from head to toe.

"The Rat King is not an ordinary beast. It is an entity born from an infected colony. It binds all the rats together through corrupted mana links, primarily connected through their tails. This transforms the animals into servants. They grow beyond their natural limits, from the size of large dogs to wolves."

He paused, bringing the pipe back to his lips for a long puff. The smoke emerged in a perfect ring before slowly dissolving into the air.

"They become stronger, more aggressive... and worst of all, more intelligent. They do not act merely out of hunger or instinct. They plan. They hunt in coordinated groups. The King sees through the eyes of its servants and feels what they feel. It is like a starving collective mind. A colony."

Lukas felt a chill run down his spine. The images of the dark cave he had explored returned with force. The scattered bones, the smell of decay, the oppressive sensation of being watched by something he could not fully see. The cold air, the silence, the darkness that seemed alive and breathing.

"How many can there be?" he asked, his voice low but steady, trying to maintain his composure.

Thorne looked at the boy with a mixture of surprise and approval. His pale blue eyes gleamed.

"Hundreds. Sometimes thousands, depending on the King’s size and age. The warrior rats can be larger and tougher. And the King itself... is something few survive to describe. A misshapen mass of flesh, intertwined tails, red eyes, and cruel intelligence. It does not fight alone. It commands the horde like a general."

Clavor frowned, the scar on his cheek standing out beneath the candlelight. The light cast deep shadows across his face, emphasizing the harsh lines of concern.

"I saw hundreds of red eyes last night. They didn’t attack immediately, but they were there. Watching. Waiting. As if they knew I was there."

"Exactly." Thorne confirmed.

"Intelligent. The King knows you’re a threat. It will try to wear down the defenses before attacking openly. Night raids on villages, ambushes on caravans, poisoned wells... We need to act quickly."

Lukas clenched his fists. His mind raced. Tilbo was strong, Prata was deadly with venom and webs, and Astra could scout from above. He himself had strength and webs. But against hundreds?

"This isn’t a battle we can win alone."

Clavor placed his large hand on his son’s shoulder, a gesture that conveyed both protection and confidence. The warmth of his palm was comforting, an anchor amid the storm of information.

"This is classified as a Rank A monster, Lukas."

Lukas blinked, confused.

"Rank A? What exactly does that mean, Father?"

Clavor exchanged a quick glance with Master Thorne before answering, his deep voice instructional, just as when he explained sword techniques.

"All beings without full intelligence, monsters, magical beasts, corrupted creatures, have a Rank classification. It goes from F, the weakest, all the way to SSS, the most dangerous and rare. The Rank determines the level of danger, combat capability, resilience, intelligence, and, most importantly, the potential to cause large-scale destruction."

He paused, making sure Lukas understood.

"A Rank F is something like a normal wolf or a weak goblin. Easy for a beginner adventurer to handle. Rank D or C already requires a group. Rank B is where things become serious, beasts capable of destroying a small village on their own. Rank A... is the level where a single monster can threaten an entire region if it is not contained quickly."

Clavor looked directly into Lukas’s eyes.

"The Rat King stands at that level. Strong enough to command a horde, resistant to ordinary mana, intelligent enough to plan. A Rank S or SSS would be something legendary, capable of destroying entire cities."

Lukas remained silent for a moment, processing everything. He had not read about this ranking system in any of the books he had studied so far. It was probably more advanced knowledge, or information restricted to adventurers and military personnel.

"I understand..." he murmured.

"That’s why you’re so worried. It’s not just an infestation. It’s something that could destroy everything we’ve built here."

Clavor nodded, proud of how quickly his son understood.

"Exactly. That’s why I called Count Hark. A letter arrived earlier, sent by the Count’s eagle. He will arrive in three days with twenty knights and two mages. Until then, we’ll reinforce the evacuated villages and establish patrols. Master Thorne, I need you for containment seals and detection spells around the mansion and the nearby villages."

Thorne released a long puff of smoke, the spiral rising toward the ceiling before dissipating.

"Very well. I’ll prepare whatever I can. But don’t expect miracles from a retired old man."