Chapter 30 - Who is the traitor ?

Outside the dungeon, within the grand observation chamber, a collective sigh of relief washed over the instructors as the illusion screens stabilized—finally revealing the disintegration of the dungeon boss in full clarity.

A few instructors even applauded.

"Did you see that slash?" one of them exclaimed, pointing to the final burst of red light. "Vincent’s technique—absolutely flawless. I’ve only ever seen it once before. He’s practiced it fully."

Another, with an almost reverent expression, added, "And Elowen... her control over the vines under that pressure—it was nearly perfect. That kind of elemental dominance at her age? Remarkable."

"Don’t forget the strategy," someone else chimed in. "It wasn’t brute force that saved them—it was planning, precision. That was a coordinated takedown."

Nods and murmurs of agreement passed around the semicircle of instructors. Some smiled faintly for the first time in hours. A few even sat down, shoulders loosening, the iron grip of dread finally relaxing.

Then a voice called out—cheerful, optimistic.

"Look! The dungeon barrier—it’s weakening!"

All eyes turned toward the central arcane panel. Indeed, the glyphs marking the edge of the mock dungeon field flickered... faded... like a wall of light slowly dissipating.

"The boss has been defeated," the instructor continued with growing confidence. "The dungeon core must be destabilizing. The system recognizes their conquest. They can leave now—"

"Wait." Vice Dean Caelum’s voice sliced through the room like a blade of ice.

All heads turned.

Caelum’s gaze was locked on the barrier monitor. His silver eyes were narrowed—not with relief, but with suspicion.

Something... wasn’t right.

He stepped closer, his gloved hand tapping the runes along the edge of the projection.

The outer sigils were flickering, yes. But now they were... stabilizing again?

"...No," he murmured. "That’s not a collapse..."

The panel pulsed suddenly—once. Then twice. The glowing runes that had begun to fade now flared back to life, brighter than before.

The light from the barrier began to grow, not shrink.

"What the—"

"Why is it restoring?" one instructor gasped. "The boss is dead! We saw it with our own eyes!"

"The dungeon should be collapsing, not... reinforcing itself!"

A fresh wave of dread surged across the room.

Caelum’s eyes widened, his voice grave. "This... this isn’t a normal dungeon anymore. The core—it’s not reacting like it should. Something else is anchoring it."

A quiet hush returned—far more suffocating than before.

Back inside the dungeon, the moment of triumph was short-lived.

Luca stood up straight, his gaze locked on the figure now calmly walking toward them—robes unruffled, face serene.

He narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here...

Professor Emeron?

"

Emeron offered a kind, almost relieved smile. "Ah, Luca. You’re all safe. Praise the goddess. That’s what matters."

Luca didn’t smile. His fingers tightened slightly on the hilt of his saber. "That doesn’t answer my question."

Emeron tilted his head. "Oh... you don’t know yet?" He turned slightly to address the others. "Professor Seraphina has betrayed us. She was the one behind this entire attack."

Gasps echoed across the clearing.

"No... That can’t be," Kyle said, disbelief etched across his face.

Aiden took a step back, stunned. "Professor Seraphina...?"

Selena and Lilliane stared at each other, eyes wide. "She would never—"

Lilliane added softly, "She trained us... she protected us..."

But neither Vincent nor Elowen said a word. Their eyes shifted subtly—watchful, wary. Elowen’s brows twitched, and Vincent’s grip on his sword hilt tightened by a fraction.

Emeron ignored the reactions and stepped closer to the remnants of the blood crystal, now split in two and still faintly pulsing with a sinister red glow.

)

"This," he said solemnly, "is the corrupted item. The very heart of the anomaly. The reason this dungeon was nearly your grave."

He reached out—

Luca moved.

In one swift motion, his saber flashed—clean, decisive—intercepting Emeron’s path with a ringing clang of steel.

Gasps erupted again.

Before anyone could stop him, Luca lunged forward and grabbed one half of the broken crystal.

At the same time, Emeron seized the other.

The moment their hands touched the shards, a deep hum resonated through the clearing. The ground trembled slightly.

"LUCA!" Selena cried out, stepping forward, her voice nearly panicked.

"What are you doing?!" Kyle shouted, eyes wide.

"Let it go! That’s dangerous! That’s cursed!" Aiden said, alarm rising in his tone.

Lilliane’s lips trembled. "It’s unstable! Don’t touch it, it’ll—"

But Luca didn’t move.

His hand clenched tightly around the crystal shard, its glow now pulsating faster in his grip.

His eyes remained locked on Emeron, not with confusion... but something sharper. Colder.

Suspicion.

The others froze, caught between confusion and fear.

Even Vincent, whose instincts rarely failed him, shifted his weight.

And for the first time since the battle ended—

The tension returned.

Then, a new voice rang out—hoarse, ragged, but unmistakably familiar.

"Don’t... give it... to him!"

Heads whipped around.

From the shadows at the far edge of the clearing, Professor Seraphina emerged—her robes torn, blood dripping from her temple, and corner of her lips her breathing labored.

Every step she took seemed agonizing.

But her eyes—those eyes burned with warning.

"Professor Seraphina?!" Lilliane gasped.

Emeron’s face twisted into something ugly. "You—traitor. I’ve already informed the Vice Dean of your betrayal. Your lies end here. You will not escape death."

He turned to the others, raising his voice. "My students—stand strong. Raise your weapons. We will cleanse this evil."

He looked back at Luca. "Give that cursed object to me. I will purify it. It’s dangerous in your hands."

Seraphina raised her voice again, though her body sagged with weakness. "No! Don’t!"

Her voice broke into a cough, blood staining her lips.

Around them, confusion was giving way to anger.

First-years raised their weapons, trembling.

"Professor... why?" one whispered.

"Why did you betray us?"

"You were the one who told us to believe in the system!"

Vincent’s knuckles whitened on his blade, his expression unreadable. Elowen’s lips were tightly pressed together, her fingers twitching.

Emeron’s voice boomed. "There is no more to say. The truth has been revealed. We must do our duty. She has endangered us all."

He raised his arm.

"Raise your weapons! Now!"

As the students and even some of the seniors began to obey—

Luca moved again.

But not toward Emeron.

Toward Seraphina.

He crossed the distance with swift, determined steps and caught her before she could fall. Her knees buckled, and he gently lowered her to the ground, his other hand reaching into his satchel.

He brought out a potion and uncorked it, holding it to her lips.

"Drink," he said softly.

Seraphina looked at him—bewildered, disoriented.

He steadied her trembling hands.

Behind them, voices rose.

"LUCA?!"

"What are you doing?!"

"She betrayed us!"

"She’s the enemy!"

But Luca didn’t listen.

His focus was only on her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, voice low, steady, concerned.

***

I was at the observation center when the test began.

I wasn’t supposed to be there.

I’d been scheduled for artifact analysis that morning, far from the testing grounds—another tedious cataloging task, one of a hundred. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Until everything changed at midnight.

There was a knock on my door. No formal summons. No messenger.

It was her.

The Tower Master.

She didn’t wait for permission. She stepped inside like shadow and storm—quiet, unreadable. Her presence made the very air tremble.

"I want you to look after my disciple," she said.

The words stunned me.

The Tower Master—our most enigmatic, elusive mage. A woman whispered about in every kingdom’s court and spell circle—had never taken a disciple.

Not in decades.

"Who is it?" I asked, barely managing to keep my voice steady.

She answered in a tone as calm as still water.

"Luca Valentine."

I didn’t know what shocked me more.

That she had chosen a disciple... or that it was

him

.

Luca. The boy who defied conventional magical structure. Whose mana signature was unregistered by every known element chart. A storm of raw potential with no fixed nature—wild and untamed.

I had been keeping an eye on him already, truthfully. But this changed everything.

If the Tower Master saw promise in him... then he was more than just a prodigy. He was something

new

.

I agreed instantly.

The next morning, I approached a colleague and switched duties with them. They didn’t question me. Why would they?

And so I stood there, high above the testing grounds, eyes fixed on the illusion screens. Watching Luca. Studying every movement. Every spell. Every decision.

That’s when I noticed him.

Emeron.

My longtime peer. Fellow instructor of divine magic. A man I had trusted on missions and in counsel rooms. A man I once considered... a friend.

But that morning, something was

wrong

.

He wasn’t watching the students. He was watching something else. His face—usually tranquil, warm with holy assurance—was pale. Twitching. Cold.

His hands were clenched too tight. His gaze too fixed.

Then he turned and walked away—quietly, almost like he was trying not to be seen. Head down. Shoulders stiff.

At first, I thought he was overwhelmed. Maybe a student he favored was in danger.

But something tugged at my gut.

So I followed.

He moved like a shadow—slipping through halls no one used, ducking under arches, hugging corners like a thief avoiding the light.

My instincts screamed louder.

I pulled a single strand of hair from my hair and whispered the trace-weave. A whispering thread of magic floated into the air, linked to sound—so I could hear whatever words he dared not say aloud.

He didn’t notice.

I followed him down a back corridor... then another. And then he did something impossible.

He disappeared—right behind the northern pillars of the coliseum wall.

It wasn’t teleportation. It was like... slipping through a veil.

A veil I hadn’t known existed.

I followed.

What lay beyond was

not

part of the academy’s recorded design.

I found myself in a passage—ancient stone, etched with runes so faded they barely whispered anymore. The air was thick with old power. Wrong power. Forbidden power.

It led downward—deep into the bones of the academy.

He moved confidently. Like he’d walked this path many times before.

He reached a cavern. Cold. Humid. The walls pulsed faintly—just barely. Old wards. Faint protections. And then he did it.

He reached into his robe and drew out a crystal.

Not just any crystal.

A communication crystal.

Black glass, ringed with silver veins. Forbidden frequency.

I froze in the shadows.

He raised it to his lips.

And that’s when I saw it.