The aftermath of the dragon incident lingered like a phantom presence throughout the Royal Academy. While the staff attempted to return life to normal, nothing truly was. The clash between the Divine Dragon and the Evil Dragon had shaken not only the academy's foundation but the hearts of all who witnessed it. Especially because of the mysterious figure who intervened—the one who wielded both Light and Dark swords and made the impossible possible.
No one knew who he truly was.
Except Alya.
And perhaps… Dern.
Ash moved through the academy halls with a quiet grace, his demeanor unchanged on the surface. Yet inside, he was restless. The duality of his existence tugged at him constantly—his identity as Ash Elric, noble heir and student, and his deeper truth: the Incursed One, bearer of Lightbringer and Shadowfang, the swords of divine myth and demonic fear.
But what disturbed him more than anything was the sudden silence of the world itself.
The swords hadn't spoken since the dragon incident.
No voices.
No guidance.
No whisper in his mind.
It was as if something ancient and dangerous had been awakened that night, and now the world was holding its breath.
He was headed to Professor Thallos' lecture on Ancient Mythos—an optional class most students avoided due to its cryptic content and dry delivery. But Ash went today, not out of obligation, but curiosity. Something gnawed at him since that night. A memory from the voice of Shadowfang:
"We were wielded once before, long ago… by a god."
The lecture hall was mostly empty. A few curious scholars, including Ceria Flamere, her twin brother Varell—half-asleep already—and, to his surprise, Alya.
Disguised in plain clothes, her silver-blonde hair braided and tucked under a dark scarf, she offered Ash a slight nod as he sat near the back.
Professor Thallos, a hunched man with moon-pale eyes, began his usual drawling monologue. But today, Ash paid attention.
"Few know this," the professor said, pacing, "but the legends speak of a kingdom older than any human record… one not built by mortals, but ruled by the Incursed One. Neither god nor demon, yet worshiped by both."
Ash's breath caught.
"The Kingdom of D'vael—a realm that existed between light and shadow. It is said that its king was a being who wielded both divine brilliance and abyssal darkness. A man… or perhaps a deity… with golden and crimson eyes."
Gasps echoed softly. Alya's fingers tensed around her notes.
Ash stared at the professor, unsure if he'd heard correctly.
"And it is written," Thallos continued, his voice lowering, "that the demon race does not follow the Demon Lord as their true god. No, they worship the Incursed One, the Fallen King of D'vael. Just as the humans unknowingly trace their myths of the god of light to the same figure."
A chill ran through Ash.
He remembered the way both dragons had bowed.
And now he remembered something else.
The Demon Lord, during the attack.
That look of recognition.
That moment when he and his army had knelt—not to threaten—but in reverence.
"A myth, perhaps," Thallos said, closing his book. "But myths often outlive truths."
When the class ended, Alya approached him quietly outside.
"You heard it too," she said.
He nodded. "I don't understand. Why… why would demons bow to someone like that? Like me?"
She looked at him, her eyes searching. "Because maybe you're not what you think you are, Ash. Maybe… you were never just human."
He looked away. "That's the problem. I don't even know what I am."
Before she could reply, a student ran through the corridor, breathless.
"Urgent! Headmaster's summons! Ash Elric, you're needed in the Hall of Seers—immediately!"
Ash blinked. "What? Why?"
"No time! The King himself sent the message!"
Alya's eyes widened. "My father…?"
Ash was already moving, heart thundering.
Whatever awaited in the Hall of Seers, it wasn't just another summoning.
It was the next step toward truth.
And perhaps, toward war.
[To Be Continued in Chapter 10: "The King's Vision"]