Janet staggered, her face turning pale from the sudden surge of killing intent emitted by the two. Though it wasn't directed at her, she wasn't surprised—she already understood what this red alert truly meant.
It meant that one of the cities or villages had come under attack by the Evil Path, and that the knights would not be able to reach the site anytime soon. With every passing breath, dozens—no, hundreds—of helpless civilians would die.
In the next instant, a hazy white layer enveloped the three of them, and they vanished abruptly.
When they reappeared, they found themselves aboard an enormous metallic ship, already soaring through the sky at tremendous speed, leaving the academy's domain behind.
On the deck stood more than ten thousand first-year students, all appearing at the same moment as the white layer faded from their bodies. The ship was vast—easily large enough to accommodate such a number without strain.
That white layer had been spatial magic, linked to their badges, used to summon them here.
The moment the students appeared—before they could even catch their breath or process what had happened—a sinister atmosphere engulfed them. Even the scent of blood seeped into their noses. Yet, just as quickly as it came, the sensation vanished.
That had been the killing intent of Aeon and Alice, barely restrained. Janet, standing beside them, was drenched in sweat. As soon as the pressure lifted, she drew in a deep breath, only then realizing that her back was already soaked with cold perspiration.
Among all the students, only Eleanor had experienced something similar before. She knew who was responsible for this—but she couldn't truly understand why Aeon would grow so furious as to release his killing intent without restraint.
Aeon raised his gaze toward one of the ship's balconies, where several figures stood. He recognized four of them—three men and a middle-aged woman. They were instructors of the first-year students.
Behind them stood eight more figures—six men and two women—slightly younger, appearing to be around nineteen or twenty. They were assistant instructors, former students who had either graduated or were currently in their fourth year.
Instructor Thomas, an S-rank instructor, stepped forward and spoke in a deep voice:
"I assume you all understand what a red alert means, correct? Then I won't waste time… Though this is your first time, we expect you to perform well in saving your lives."
His tone was unusually cold. The students were startled by the phrase *"saving your lives."*
As Thomas continued:
"The moment we reach the city, we will engage in battle with the Evil Path. No one will be there to save you—not even us instructors or assistants. We will be fighting the older generation. If you cannot kill your opponents, then at the very least endure until your comrades come to your aid… or until we finish defeating our enemies and the battle ends."
His voice pounded like a drum against the students' hearts. They had expected to fight the Evil Path—but not this soon.
Suddenly, a sharp chill spread from Thomas as he spoke in a tone filled with warning and threat:
"And we do not expect anyone to flee from battle. You are soldiers now—not mere students. Though the academy nurtures you with priceless resources, that does not mean they are free. Everything comes at a cost… You are the empire's future hope against its enemies. We do not need cowardly students. Bury your cowardice now—or it will bury you."
With that, he turned and walked toward the command center, followed by the other instructors and assistants.
Many students were filled with tension, anxiety, and fear. Some had even gone pale with terror. The Evil Path had a dreadful reputation—merely hearing their name was enough to instill fear, let alone facing them in battle.
Yet, surprisingly, there were several students who remained relatively calm—an unusual sight for first-years. Their composure stemmed from prior experience fighting the Evil Path.
Among them were individuals like Arthur, Aria, Mira, Eleanor, and even the proud Iliana, along with other notable figures. They maintained calm expressions devoid of visible tension. But Aeon did not miss the chaotic fluctuations within their auras.
This did not surprise him. Though they had fought the Evil Path before, it had always been under the protection of the older generation.
They called it battle—life and death—but it was nothing more than a false label. In the end, they were high nobles. You couldn't simply throw them into such battles. There was always a powerful figure watching from the shadows, ready to save them at critical moments.
But this time, they were not nobles—they were students. To enter the academy, there were several conditions, one of which was the willingness to face death. One should not expect free resources or a peaceful academic life. These resources had been paid for with countless unseen deaths. To expect otherwise was nothing but foolishness.
The academy existed to forge students into pillars of the empire's future—or even to send them to a higher world beyond this one. This time, there would be no one protecting them from the shadows. This was truly a battle of life and death.
Aeon turned his gaze toward Janet, who stood behind them. Despite her attempts to maintain a calm facade, she was clearly tense.
He could only feel a slight sense of helplessness at the sight. Reaching out, he gently patted her head.
"It's alright. Don't worry. You don't need to fear the Evil Path—you'll understand why once you fight them. Also, Alice will watch over you a little from the shadows… but that doesn't mean you won't be pushed to the brink of life and death. She'll only save you at the last moment."
Janet's tension eased instantly under Aeon's gentle touch, despite the roughness of his palm. Her face even flushed slightly at the gesture.
"Remember this—below the Violet Rank, I'm the only one who can kill you. Even at that rank, it won't be easy." Aeon spoke with firm confidence, his gaze serious. Only he and Alice truly knew how powerful Janet had become. Under the pressure of life and death, her potential would bloom like a flower in spring.
Startled by his words, Janet nodded vigorously, as if she had found her resolve. If Aeon said it, then he meant it—she had absolute faith in his judgment.
Suddenly, Alice kicked Aeon lightly in the leg with the tip of her shoe.
"Stop flirting with my friend. Everyone's watching."
Aeon winced slightly in pain. His little sister was truly ruthless—she had used a delayed-impact technique, sending the pain straight to his nerves.
He glanced around and saw everyone staring at him strangely—even Arthur and his companions were no exception. Iliana, meanwhile, wore a faint, almost imperceptible frown—so slight that Aeon couldn't even be sure it was one.
What puzzled the others was Aeon's calmness in such a situation—how he dismissed the Evil Path as nothing more than cowards and rabble—and how Alice still had the composure to joke.
Suddenly, one of the figures stepped forward, and the students recognized him as an assistant instructor.
He had crimson-red hair tied into a long braid, with eyes of the same color. He wore light armor, and behind him rested an axe colored in yellow and green.
In a deep, steady tone, he said:
"We've reached the mana transfer circle. It will transport us to the city. Remain calm, and do not release your mana or aura—otherwise, you will suffer a violent backlash. You may feel some dizziness. Endure it… unless you want to clean up your own vomit."
With that, he turned and left.
The massive ship approached a secluded area, where a gigantic circular platform lay inscribed with strange geometric patterns. Ornate pillars rose around it, carved in spiraling shapes, each bearing the image of a dragon coiling upward to the very top.
As soon as the ship landed on the circle, several individuals—already stationed nearby—began inserting high-quality mana crystals into the pillars.
The pillars lit up, and beams of light shot from each toward the mana circle, which began to glow with a soft violet radiance. This lasted only a few seconds.
Then, the ship vanished—
as if it had never been there at all.