The journey back to the Academy was silent, the group weary from the day’s battle. The once oppressive atmosphere of the marsh had lightened—the corrupted mist gone, leaving only the lingering scent of damp earth behind.

  Master Orlan and the other instructors inspected the area one last time. After a long pause, they exchanged silent nods.

  “The darkness is gone… for now,” one of the teachers muttered.

  With no further resistance, the decision was made to return.

  The group rode through the night, their bodies sore, their minds too drained to speak. By the time the Academy’s towering spires came into view, the sky had darkened completely.

  Ethan barely remembered how he reached his dorm.

  His legs moved on instinct, every muscle aching from the fights. He exchanged a quiet goodnight with Callan and Orion—neither of them had the strength to do more than nod—then slipped inside his room.

  The moment Ethan’s body hit the bed, a deep sigh escaped him.

  The events of the day flashed behind his closed eyes—the corrupted beasts, the lurking danger, the power he unleashed just barely within control.

  And then… the fragment.

  It pulsed faintly within him, like a second heartbeat.

  Ethan stared at the ceiling, exhaustion weighing him down. Before long, sleep claimed him.

  The world around him shifted.

  Colors bled together—gold, silver, and deep crimson skies stretching endlessly. Ethan stood in a field of stars, weightless and calm.

  And then—she appeared.

  Sophia.

  His sister.

  Radiant, her long dark hair flowing like ink across the void. Her eyes warm, yet solemn.

  “You’ve done well, Ethan,” she spoke, her voice both near and distant. “I felt it… the moment you claimed the fragment.”

  Ethan took a shaky breath. “I… I thought I’d lost control back there.”

  Sophia smiled softly. “Yet you didn’t. You’re stronger than you think.”

  Ethan clenched his fists. “The darkness… it’s getting closer, isn’t it?”

  Sophia’s expression shifted—sadness flickering in her eyes. “They can sense it now. Every time you claim a fragment, you stir the balance.”

  She placed a hand over her chest. “The fallen ones… they feel Leo’s heartbeat. It was once silent, but now—it beats. Faint, but steady.”

  Ethan’s chest tightened. “They’re going to come for me… aren’t they?”

  Sophia’s lips trembled, but she nodded. “Yes. They don’t know who you are yet… but they know something is awakening. And they will do anything to stop it.”

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  Ethan’s voice dropped. “What do I do?”

  She shook her head. “For now, survive. Grow. There will come a time when you’ll have to choose—but not yet.”

  Ethan tried to step closer, desperate to ask more—but the dream began to fade, her form turning to light.

  “Wait—Sophia—”

  Her voice echoed one last time. “I’m always watching, Ethan… Don’t forget that.”

  Ethan shot up, gasping.

  Sunlight streamed through the window, the peaceful sounds of the Academy waking up filling the air.

  For a moment, he sat still—her words ringing in his head.

  Leo’s heartbeat… they can feel it now.

  He swallowed hard, his heart pounding.

  No one else knew. No one could know.

  For now… he was just Ethan.

  But deep down, he knew—

  Time was running out.

  The soft hum of morning filled the Academy grounds. Students bustled through the halls, the air warmer than usual—spring creeping in. But despite the usual Academy routine, a certain weight still hung over Ethan.

  As he made his way toward class, he caught sight of Lysandra ahead.

  She turned at the sound of his steps, her silver hair catching the morning sun. “Ethan.”

  “Morning,” Ethan offered, adjusting the strap of his bag.

  For a moment, neither spoke—both still carrying the remnants of their marshland mission.

  Finally, Lysandra broke the silence, her voice quieter than usual. “I thought… we might’ve lost you out there.”

  Ethan exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… there was a moment I thought the same.”

  They walked side by side, the corridors unusually quiet between them.

  Lysandra’s eyes stayed forward. “I couldn’t see you. When you fell, like the whole field shifted.” She paused, glancing at him. “You’re lucky. And reckless.”

  Ethan gave a half-smile. “Maybe. But we’re here.”

  Lysandra nodded. “We are.”

  They entered the classroom together, slipping into their usual seats. Ethan settled in the middle, Orion and Callan flanking him, Lysandra a seat away, closer than usual.

  Orion leaned back, feet tapping lightly against the floor. “Honestly… after you disappeared, I thought we lost you.”

  Callan nodded, his face more serious. “You scared the hell out of us, Ethan. I thought you wouldn’t climb back out.”

  Callan exhaled. “That darkness… it’s worse than anything we’ve faced.”

  The classroom fell completely silent the moment Professor Alden Greybourne entered.

  His sharp eyes scanned the students, lips pressed into a thin line. Without a word, he strode to the front, setting down two items on the demonstration table—a potted plant, its leaves trembling slightly, and a small metal cage containing a restless brown rat.

  “Today,” Greybourne began, his voice calm but edged with weight, “we venture into the most delicate, dangerous branch of Virgo Alchemy—Living Alchemy.”

  Whispers rippled through the students, curiosity and unease mixing in the air.

  “Alchemy is not limited to earth, metal, or stone,” Greybourne continued. “The very blood and breath of life itself… can be rewritten.”

  He placed a hand over the potted plant. “But mark my words—modifying living beings comes at a risk. A mistake in calculations, a misstep in your aura flow… and you break the fragile balance that makes life life.”

  With a measured breath, he ran his Virgo aura through the plant. The leaves shimmered with a vibrant green glow as his energy seeped into the veins.

  Before their eyes, the plant morphed.

  Its thin stems thickened, twisting upward as the pot cracked slightly from the change. The green leaves shrank, compacting into a miniature tree, a perfect bonsai. Then—slowly—the branches curled further, budding delicate flowers that soon turned into clusters of small, ripe fruits no larger than marbles.

  A collective gasp rose from the class.

  “Life can be redirected,” Greybourne said, “its purpose rewritten.”

  The professor’s hand then moved to the cage. The rat squeaked nervously, sensing the change.

  “And not just plants.”

  Greybourne’s eyes gleamed with focus as he sent a pulse of his aura into the animal. For a brief moment, the rat’s eyes flickered green—unnatural, eerie.

  Then, the change began.

  The rat opened its mouth—not in a squeak, but in a high-pitched birdcall.

  Gasps rang out again.

  Greybourne calmly opened the cage.

  With an unexpected leap, the rat launched itself skyward. Membranes of thin, translucent skin stretched from its sides, gliding gracefully like a flying squirrel. It soared once around the room before landing back on the desk.

  Silence reigned.

  “Life has codes—just like stone, metal, or air,” Greybourne said quietly. “If you understand it… you can manipulate it. Redirect it.”

  He looked up, locking eyes with Ethan for a split second.

  “But this is not a tool for war. It is knowledge. Mishandling it risks not just failure… but irreversible corruption.”

  The words corruption sent a chill through the room.

  “Animal, plant, or man—all follow the same fundamental rules if you study them close enough,” Greybourne continued. “Your task… is to begin your first study. Read the manuscripts—learn the codes of life.”

  The class sat in stunned silence as the rat stared back at them, its black eyes still reflecting a faint green glow.

  The students made their way into the library, the grand double doors creaking open to reveal rows upon rows of ancient tomes and scrolls. The scent of parchment and ink filled the air, mingling with the soft golden light streaming through tall windows.

  Ethan, Callan, Orion, and Lysandra settled around a large oak table near the center. In front of them, stacks of books on botanical anatomy and animal physiology were piled high—leather-bound volumes filled with diagrams, equations, and notes from scholars past.

  Callan flipped through a book on plant structure, brow furrowed. “It’s insane how even the simplest leaf has such complex patterns.”

  Orion grinned, leaning back lazily. “Makes you wonder—if we mess this up, do we accidentally turn a rabbit into a tree or a tree into a screaming rabbit?”

  Lysandra rolled her eyes. “That’s because you’re too reckless to study the process first.”

  The table burst into light laughter, even Lysandra cracking a small smile before they returned to their books.

  Ethan, however, grew quiet as his fingers traced the intricate diagrams of animal muscles and nerves. With a slow breath, he activated his Lion’s Sight, letting the world shift into lines of glowing codes and threads.

  As he stared at the biological diagrams, something clicked.

  The structures of the animals… weren’t random. Every vein, every muscle fiber—each carried a code not too different from the material structures he’d transmuted before.

  “It’s the same… just more complex,” he thought, eyes narrowing.

  The vascular system, the nervous system—they were like flowing rivers of energy, all following hidden instructions. Ethan’s pulse quickened.

  “If I learn this… really learn it… I could manipulate living things without destroying them. Not just objects, but life itself.”

  His gaze lifted briefly to the others, who were still deep in study or banter.

  And for the first time, Ethan felt the vast potential of what lay ahead—not just crafting weapons or defenses, but reshaping life at its core.