The night air was cool.
A gentle breeze drifted across the academy grounds as the final traces of daylight vanished beyond the horizon.
The moon had begun its ascent.
Silver light spilled across the stone pathways of Aetherial Institute.
The academy looked different at night.
More ancient.
More mysterious.
Towering structures stood beneath the moonlight like sleeping giants.
The magical lamps scattered throughout the island glowed softly.
Students moved through the campus in small groups.
Some returned to dormitories.
Some headed toward libraries.
Others disappeared into taverns and restaurants near the academy district.
Meanwhile—
Kel walked alone.
His footsteps echoed softly against the stone road.
The conversation with Valeryn still lingered in his thoughts.
Not because of what she revealed.
After twenty lifetimes inside Destiny, Kel had heard stories far worse.
Much worse.
What remained in his mind was something else.
Trust.
The fact she had revealed such a personal story after only knowing him for a few hours.
Humans were strange creatures.
Far stranger than monsters.
Far stranger than demons.
Far stranger than gods.
Far away beneath Scarder Lake—
Seiren's voice echoed inside his mind.
"You made another friend."
Kel sighed.
"Apparently."
The goddess laughed.
"At this rate you'll accidentally gather an army."
"I don't want an army."
"Nobody who gathers armies ever wants an army initially."
Kel chose to ignore that.
Experience taught him arguing with Seiren was usually pointless.
Eventually—
His attention shifted elsewhere.
A distant training field.
A lone figure stood there.
Practicing.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The moonlight illuminated a young man.
Sweat covered his body.
His breathing was rough.
His clothes were soaked.
Yet he continued swinging his weapon.
Relentlessly.
Without stopping.
Without resting.
Without complaint.
Kel slowed.
Then stopped.
His silver eyes narrowed slightly.
Recognition appeared.
Not because he knew the student personally.
But because he knew the character.
Very well.
A faint smile appeared.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Because during many of his twenty playthroughs—
He had selected this individual as a playable character.
One of Destiny's future protagonists.
One of the strongest heroes of the storyline.
The future monster among monsters.
Yet right now—
The young man looked ordinary.
Just another student training under moonlight.
Kel quietly moved toward a nearby tree.
Remaining hidden.
Observing.
The student continued practicing.
Sword after sword.
Strike after strike.
Every movement carried flaws.
Small flaws.
Tiny imperfections.
Yet the foundation was remarkable.
Kel silently analyzed.
Compared.
Calculated.
The current version.
The future version.
The playable version.
The legendary version.
Interesting.
The difference was enormous.
At present—
The student was perhaps equal to an above-average academy elite.
Strong.
Talented.
Promising.
Yet compared to the future version Kel remembered—
The difference resembled comparing a campfire to the sun.
Far away beneath Scarder Lake—
Seiren noticed his thoughts.
"Someone important?"
Kel nodded.
"Very."
The goddess became curious.
"Future hero?"
"One of them."
"Future trouble?"
"Definitely."
The answer arrived instantly.
Seiren laughed.
The student continued training.
Minutes passed.
Kel observed carefully.
Taking mental notes.
Habits.
Movements.
Preferences.
Weaknesses.
Strengths.
The same way an experienced strategist studied a battlefield.
Eventually—
The young man collapsed onto one knee.
Exhausted.
His body trembled from overuse.
Yet moments later—
He stood again.
Preparing another repetition.
Kel quietly smiled.
Now that part hadn't changed.
The future version had possessed exactly the same stubbornness.
The same determination.
The same absurd refusal to quit.
Then—
Kel turned away.
Observation complete.
The time wasn't right.
Not yet.
There would be plenty of opportunities later.
Many opportunities.
Some fortunate.
Many unfortunate.
Because if Destiny followed its original course—
This student's future would become extremely complicated.
Just like everyone else's.
Kel resumed walking.
The academy dormitories gradually appeared ahead.
The familiar building stood beneath the moonlight.
Students entered and exited through the main entrance.
The atmosphere felt peaceful.
For now.
Eventually—
Kel reached his room.
The door closed behind him.
Silence returned.
The room was simple.
Comfortable.
Orderly.
Moonlight entered through the window.
The silver glow illuminated the desk.
The bookshelves.
The bed.
The quiet solitude.
Kel sat upon his chair.
Then leaned backward.
His eyes slowly closed.
And finally—
He began organizing his memories.
Not his current memories.
His memories of Destiny.
The game.
The story.
The future.
The countless timelines he had experienced.
The countless failures.
The countless victories.
The countless deaths.
His expression gradually became serious.
Because there was one thing approaching.
One major event.
The first true turning point of Aetherial Institute.
The incident that marked the midpoint of Chapter One.
The first major tragedy.
The first major villain.
The first moment the academy stopped being merely an academy.
Kel opened his eyes.
Moonlight reflected within them.
Cold.
Calm.
Ancient.
The memories surfaced.
An alchemy classroom.
Students laughing.
Lessons continuing normally.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing suspicious.
Then—
The assistant professor.
A woman.
Young.
Talented.
Respected.
Trusted.
The perfect disguise.
Nobody suspected her.
Not professors.
Not students.
Not academy officials.
Nobody.
Yet behind that smile—
A secret existed.
A terrible secret.
Kel remembered everything.
The practical lesson.
The forged permissions.
The signed documents.
The professors who unknowingly approved the trip.
The teleportation circle.
The hidden destination.
The dungeon.
The trap.
His fingers slowly tapped against the desk.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The memory continued.
The students believed it was a field exercise.
An opportunity to collect ingredients.
To learn practical alchemy.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Yet the reality was different.
Far different.
The assistant professor had never intended to teach.
She had intended to sacrifice.
The dungeon was merely a ritual site.
The students merely offerings.
The demon merely a customer.
Kel's gaze darkened.
The details became clearer.
The demonic flower essence.
The rare ingredient.
The impossible cure.
The desperate attempt to save her younger brother.
A brother transformed by a terrible curse.
A brother slowly becoming a monster.
A brother she loved.
Enough to abandon morality.
Enough to betray everyone.
Enough to sacrifice innocent lives.
Kel remembered the ending.
The heroes won.
The demon died.
The assistant professor died.
Justice prevailed.
At least—
That was how the story presented it.
Yet after twenty playthroughs—
Kel no longer saw the world so simply.
The assistant professor wasn't evil.
Not entirely.
The heroes weren't completely right.
Not entirely.
The tragedy existed because everyone arrived too late.
The brother couldn't be saved.
The cure came too late.
Hope arrived too late.
And so—
The heroes were forced to kill him as well.
The memory lingered.
Heavy.
Unpleasant.
Far away beneath Scarder Lake—
Seiren quietly spoke.
"You're thinking about changing it."
Kel remained silent.
The goddess already knew the answer.
After all—
This wasn't a game anymore.
These weren't characters.
These were people.
Real people.
Living people.
Breathing people.
The moonlight illuminated the room.
The silence deepened.
Then Kel slowly looked toward the night sky beyond his window.
The stars glittered above Aetherial Institute.
Beautiful.
Peaceful.
Unaware.
Because somewhere within this academy—
A future villain was preparing to commit a terrible crime.
And somewhere else—
A doomed younger brother continued waiting for a cure that would never arrive.
At least—
That was what happened in Destiny.
But Kel von Rosenfeld had never been particularly good at following predetermined stories.
And for the first time since arriving at Aetherial Institute—
He began seriously considering whether this tragedy truly needed to happen at all.