Back in the modest inn on the outskirts of Silver Blade City, the light of early dawn filtered lazily through the window, casting golden streaks across the wooden floorboards.
The room was quiet, save for the slow breathing of Nolan as he lay sprawled on the bed, one hand under his head, the other twitching slightly as if grasping for a memory in his dreams.
Without warning, a weight suddenly settled on his chest.
"Wake up."
Nolan groaned, opening one eye halfway to see Lirazel's face hovering inches above his. Her violet hair cascaded around his shoulders like silk, and her crimson eyes gleamed with urgency.
A moment later, she was shaking him by the shoulders.
"Wake up! It's time to start creating the army."
Nolan blinked, groggy and thoroughly unamused. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Lirazel's expression turned completely serious. "The army, Master. We need to start making it now. My sisters are already descending into the lower realm, so was the other from the enemies. If we don't start building our forces, we'll be vulnerable."
He sat up, pushing her gently off his chest, and rubbed his temples. "Hold on. You're talking about copulating, right?"
She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! That's how we multiply! We need to start copulating to create more demon-spawn. It's the fastest way to grow our numbers."
Nolan raised a brow. "Do you even hear yourself? You're basically asking for endless sex marathons to spawn an army of horned toddlers. That's not just insane—it's suicide. I know what succubi do. You suck life, Lirazel. You drain energy, spirit, mana, and potentially my will to live. No thanks."
Lirazel pouted. "But it's necessary. My sisters won't just descend quietly. They'll start fighting each other on who will lead against the enemies of mother—and you. You've been marked in contract with my mother too. If they sense you, they might attack, thinking you're trying to seize power."
Nolan exhaled through his nose and leaned back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "How strong are these so-called demon god spawns sisters?"
"Not that strong—yet," Lirazel admitted. "But that's only because they just arrived in this lower realm. Give them a month or two and they'll adapt. Their mana capacity will stabilize and multiply. That's why we need to act now."
"Right…" Nolan tapped his temple. Then he would mumble to himself, 'I've got something better. The Internet.'
Lirazel tilted her head. "What are you mumbling about?"
"My cheat… Oh no… I mean…" Nolan gave her a wry grin. "Let's just say… I've got a literal world's worth of knowledge in my head. No demon brat or sultry princess is going to catch up to me anytime soon."
Lirazel frowned. "This isn't time make a joke! The pact with my mother still stands!"
"Nope." Nolan stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders. "I died, remember? Pretty hard to keep a contract with a dead guy. Technically, that pact is broken. I rose again, but that doesn't mean I'm obligated to obey her will."
Lirazel's face darkened. "But that was a sacred pact—"
"It said I'd help you, not serve her. And I am helping. Just not by becoming a walking baby factory."
Her fists clenched, and her wings flickered into view behind her, just for a second—dark, batlike, trembling with frustration. "We need to copulate! You don't understand!"
"I understand perfectly. I also understand that you're red in the face right now," Nolan said flatly, eyeing her with mild amusement. "I'm busy, Lirazel. I've got things to do, students to watch over, and an academy to infiltrate."
Lirazel sputtered with rage and embarrassment. "You—! You infuriating, arrogant human!"
He turned his back on her and waved casually as he walked toward the wash basin. "Thank you."
…
Hours later, Nolan found himself standing within the grand coliseum-like arena at the heart of Silver Blade Academy.
Its towering stone walls cast long shadows across the finely paved arena floor.
Marble pillars carved with ancient knightly figures surrounded the circular grounds, glowing faintly with mana runes that kept the entire structure humming with invisible energy.
The day had only just begun, but already the stadium was packed.
Rows upon rows of students, instructors, nobles, and city officials filled the massive tiered seats, their excitement swelling like a tide.
Above them, enchanted banners unfurled in the air, bearing the crest of Silver Blade Academy—a shining sword wrapped in a stream of blue flame.
Magic drifted through the air like invisible pollen. It shimmered in the sunlight, brushing gently against the skin.
Enchanted orbs floated through the stadium, casting waves of light that changed colors—sapphire, emerald, crimson—one after another, pulsing with harmony.
The air felt thick with energy, like the entire space was a living, breathing organism preparing to erupt in celebration.
A group of high-level conjurers, clad in ceremonial robes of silver and indigo, stood atop the arena walls, weaving a massive enchantment that stretched over the entire stadium.
From their hands spilled brilliant symbols that danced midair, fusing into each other before exploding into bursts of harmless sparks.
Glimmering phoenixes flew over the crowd. Draconic illusions soared and coiled around pillars, leaving trails of stardust in their wake.
A wave of awe passed through the stands—children screamed with delight, and even the older knights couldn't help but cheer.
It was more than a spectacle. It was a grand welcome.
A celebration of something greater than tradition. This was legacy. Power. Prestige.
Nolan stood among a line of figures along the eastern edge of the coliseum floor, each garbed in formal academy attire.
These were the prospective instructors—those who had been vetted, tested, and would officially be inducted tomorrow if they passed the academy's criteria.
Nolan's sharp eyes scanned them briefly, sizing them up. Some looked confident. Others tried to hide their nerves.
Then a sudden burst of sound silenced the entire stadium.
"Lords and Ladies, Knights and Mages, Students and Scholars—welcome!"
The booming voice came not from the man himself, but from the artifact he held—a crystalline staff embedded with a voice amplification rune.
The man stood tall at the center platform, with gray-streaked hair, a robe of deep navy blue, and an aura that demanded attention.
"I am Professor Langren Voss, a full-fledged faculty member of this esteemed Academy!" he announced. His voice resounded clearly across every tier. "Today is a sacred day. A day of promise. Of legacy. Every year, we gather like this—students seeking purpose, teachers seeking knowledge, all of us united under the banner of Silver Blade."
A massive roar erupted from the crowd. Banners waved, fists pumped in the air. The academy grounds trembled from the sheer weight of their excitement.
"This Academy stands on centuries of blood, sweat, and triumph! Every footstep within its hallowed halls carries the echo of generations! Every spell cast within its chambers honors the warriors of old!"
"YES!" the crowd chanted in thunderous unison.
Langren raised his hands, the sky answering his call with a thunderclap that rippled with mana-infused clouds.
Lightning arced in brilliant zigzags high above, painting the heavens with a storm of silver and blue.
"This year's assessment will be unlike any other!"
Gasps followed.
Nolan's brow twitched.
Langren continued, "For this year, we are honored—graced—by the presence of a most distinguished guest. The Baron of Black Vale Territory has joined us! And with him, the Chief Mana Knight of the entire region!"
A hush fell upon the stadium. Even the banners stilled.
Nolan's heartbeat skipped.
Langren raised his staff. "I give you—Joules! The Wind Magic Knight! Chief Mana Knight of Black Vale Territory!"
At that moment, the air seemed to shift. The pressure intensified.
And Nolan, standing in his polished robes, felt a single bead of sweat trickle down his back.