“What?”

The expressions of the students who had been asked the question shifted slightly.

All of them had felt some kind of dissonance in Ludger’s words.

Then, belatedly, a certain incident flashed through their minds.

“The Wakpala Massacre...”

The Wakpala Massacre was an incident in which frontier soldiers and mercenaries exterminated an entire beastkin tribe, an event that caused quite a stir.

Conflicts between beastkin and frontier settlers were nothing new.

Even so, the reason this particular case made such huge headlines was because a historian got involved and did something heinous.

Namely, the act of distorting history.

“In the Wakpala Massacre, the total number of beastkin tribespeople killed was 300. Of them, more than 150 were children and elders. They were slaughtered without mercy under the false accusation of eating humans.”

What was even more shocking was that the tribe killed at that time had been extremely friendly toward humans.

“Why in the world would something like that happen?”

Taishy, lacking knowledge on the subject, asked.

It was Leo who answered.

“Because of a gold mine.”

“A gold mine?”

“Yeah. There was a gold mine near the land where that tribe lived. But when people tried to buy the mining rights, the beastkin refused, saying they couldn’t give up land that had been passed down from their ancestors. Still, the people didn’t give up.”

Ludger continued the explanation.

“But due to an existing treaty, they couldn’t just lay a hand on the beastkin. This was after the end of the racial war, and the atmosphere was such that even minor disputes were hushed up. So, they changed their approach — by maliciously distorting information.”

The one who stepped forward at that time was the historian Jayden Lumpal.

He was a distinguished scholar who researched the history and culture of demi-humans and compiled his findings into books.

The academic world valued his papers and materials highly, and he was famous for never having been caught up in any scandal.

“Why would someone like that do such a thing...?”

“Because he lacked funding.”

Jayden had repeatedly failed to secure the funding he needed for his research.

As he grew increasingly desperate, someone approached him with a dirty deal.

They asked him to write a column exposing the supposed cannibalism of a beastkin tribe.

They added that if he did, they would provide him with a huge sum for his research.

Jayden did not refuse.

“He immediately wrote a denunciation of the beastkin, claiming they ate humans. Using his authority, he incited people to believe that a decent tribe danced heretical dances and feasted on human flesh. What do you think people did when they heard that?”

“...”

It was the statement of a man whose authority in demi-human history was considered unmatched.

No one doubted his words.

There were some who said the facts should be checked.

But their voices were drowned out by the overwhelming tide.

The massacre committed by gold-hungry settlers was reframed as the righteous punishment of evil cannibals.

And so, 300 people died.

Without distinction between elders and children.

Even though the truth was later revealed, the dead beastkin could never return.

“Even now, the beastkin live with the stigma of being savage. They say elves and dwarves each have their merits, but beastkin do not. It’s nothing more than a difference in culture.”

At Ludger’s words, Leo flinched.

In his mind, Iona’s face appeared.

“What this incident tells us is clear — authority is not the same as truth. And those with authority are not always virtuous. They can lie whenever it suits their desires.”

“There are people who don’t, though.”

“Of course. In fact, if we go by proportion, there are probably more who don’t. But this still happened. Why do you think that is? Because no one guarded against such a situation.”

Ludger’s gaze shifted to the students who had received his source code magic.

“What I want to tell you is this — don’t accept my authority and let my magic go to waste.”

It was an almost laughable statement.

For a mage to tell others not to accept his magic and instead to actively encourage modifying it.

But Ludger believed it was the right thing to do.

It is a good thing for an educator to guide someone.

But no one can keep guiding forever.

“I’m human too, and I make mistakes. I’m not always right. At times, I might lead you down the wrong path.”

Such a one-sided relationship will one day hit its limit and crumble easily.

What’s important is learning how to walk on your own.

On a long journey, sometimes you lead, and sometimes you are led.

Sometimes you fight, and sometimes you join hands.

And someday...

He hoped they would surpass him.

To become the protagonists of a new era, to lead the next generation, and to teach them how to move forward.

That was what Ludger wanted most as an educator.

“Keep questioning. Challenge and seize. You can create better magic.”

Everyone was left speechless at that solemn declaration.

“That’s all I have to say. You may go now.”

* * *

Taishy and Leo left the faculty office and walked down the corridor together.

As they walked in silence, Taishy spoke to Leo.

“So, what are you going to do now?”

It was a question loaded with meaning.

Leo replied indifferently.

“Not much. I haven’t even been given all the source code framework anyway.”

“I could teach you, you know?”

Taishy threw it out there casually.

It wasn’t surprising — she had consistently ranked in the top, earning all four pieces of the framework.

If she wanted, she could pass the missing framework pieces on to Leo.

It would take time, but still.

“I didn’t work hard out of desperation for that.”

“Then why?”

“I just wanted to prove my worth. And maybe knock down a few arrogant nobles who think they can coast on their family name.”

So Leo didn’t really regret not getting the source code.

“Really? You sure you don’t want me to teach you?”

“I said I don’t need it.”

Taishy pouted.

She’d had a rare chance to tease Leo, but of course he didn’t take the bait.

Of course, if Leo actually asked, she really would teach him.

It was her own accomplishment, but there was nothing stopping her from sharing it with a friend.

“More importantly, the break’s almost here. Time really flies.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Leo, do you have plans for the break?”

“Me? Not really. At most, I’ll visit home once and see my family.”

“Same here. What about Aidan...?”

“He’ll probably go back to his hometown too. Didn’t he say he has a lot of younger siblings? He’s had it rough.”

“Younger siblings...”

Taishy repeated the words under her breath.

“What? Are you an only child?”

“Of course. In the first place, what fallen noble family has multiple children?”

“...That assumption that fallen nobles are always only children is a weird prejudice. Still, congratulations. Now that you’ve gotten the source code, you’re one step closer to rebuilding your house.”

“It is fortunate.”

Taishy replied, then suddenly asked:

“But that thing Professor Ludger mentioned — do you think it’s true?”

“What, the source code?”

“No, not that. You know... that thing.”

“Oh. You meant the Wakpala Massacre? Why bring that up all of a sudden?”

“Because I didn’t know. I didn’t even know something that horrible had happened. Or that people still had such a bad perception of beastkin. Has Iona been enduring that kind of gaze all this time?”

“...”

At the mention of Iona’s name, Leo fell silent.

It wasn’t as if Leo hadn’t thought about her.

If one asked whether he pitied her circumstances, he certainly did.

But Leo didn’t voice it.

“Don’t bring that up in front of Iona.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because the last thing she’d want is pity from her friends.”

“....”

Taishy widened her eyes, as if surprised.

“...You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”

“As long as you know.”

“What? Would it kill you to say things nicely?”

Before long, the two of them joined up with Aidan and Iona, who had been waiting for them.

The four of them fell into the kind of casual talk students have, discussing what they would do over the break.

Then Iona, who had been quiet, spoke.

“I’m planning to go back to my hometown during the break.”

If she had stopped there, no one would have thought much of it.

She’d been living far away in Seorn, so of course she’d want to see her family at least once.

But what she said next was enough to surprise the other three.

“My father wants to invite the three of you.”

They had known each other long enough.

The three of them were well aware of Iona’s standing among her people — and of who her father was.

The current chieftain of the largest beastkin tribe.

That was Iona’s father.

* * *

While Ludger was still in the faculty office sorting through materials, a cup of coffee was placed in front of him.

He didn’t even have to look to know.

It was Sedina who had brought it.

“Appreciated.”

Ludger spoke and took a sip.

Sedina stood quietly in place, silently watching him.

By now, this sort of exchange had long since become a familiar part of their daily routine.

“Sedina. The break’s coming soon — do you have any plans?”

“I do not. I plan to remain in the dormitory.”

“I see.”

Sedina understood why Ludger would ask her such a question.

“There’s no need to worry about me. I’m doing fine. Of course, I don’t intend to stay in Seorn forever. I plan to go down to Rederbelk and maintain my connections with the Owens people.”

“That’s good, then. Seems I was meddling for no reason.”

In truth, Ludger himself wasn’t sure why she had been on his mind.

He simply had a bad feeling.

The moment he saw Sedina, a faint, unsettling unease seemed to tickle the back of his mind.

Ludger didn’t take such feelings lightly.

“Sedina. Has anyone been watching you lately, ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) or anything like that?”

“...Pardon?”

Though puzzled by the question, Sedina answered earnestly.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m always particularly careful not to be noticed by others. Stealth is essential when gathering information.”

“Hmm. I see.”

Even after hearing her confident answer, Ludger felt something was off.

Sedina couldn’t understand why he was acting this way.

“Alright. You may go. There won’t be any class-related matters for the time being, so I suggest you take this opportunity to get plenty of rest.”

With that, Ludger rose from his seat.

“Where are you going?”

“There’s something I need to check on.”

He put on his coat.

His destination was the Rederbelk safehouse.

* * *

Deep beneath the capital of the Exilion Empire lay a massive underground chamber.

At its heavily guarded center was the colossal root of the World Tree.

And connected to that root was an elf.

“Mmh.”

The elf — Bellaruna — pulled her hands away from the World Tree’s root.

She could hardly remember how many days she had been clinging to it.

“You alright?”

The one asking after her was Mandelina.

She was both Bellaruna’s escort and her watcher.

“I-it’s just... I’ve been linked to the World Tree for too long.”

“Is that a thing?”

“Normally, an elf who isn’t granted permission can’t access the World Tree at all. If you bypass that and keep roaming around inside it, the drain on your mental strength is enormous.”

As she spoke, Bellaruna pulled an energy bar from her pouch, chewing and swallowing it.

“On top of that, they’ve tightened security after noticing my previous intrusion.”

“Security?”

“The Elf Kingdom, I mean. I tried to peek at what’s going on over there, but it’s not easy.”

Mandelina’s eyes went wide with surprise.

Considering the distance between the Empire’s capital and the Elf Kingdom, there was no way she should have been able to find that out.

Perhaps her expression gave her away, because Bellaruna went on.

“T-the World Trees may appear separate, but through their roots they’re linked like a dense net. A network, you could say.”

“So that means you can connect from this World Tree to the Elf Kingdom’s World Tree?”

“Exactly. That’s what I was trying to do, but they’re blocking my access from their side. They’ve even put multiple restrictions on the information stored in this dead World Tree.”

“If we can tamper with it from this side, they can do the same from theirs.”

“That’s why I’ve been at it for days, but now I’ve finally gotten a solid lead. One more try, and I can break through.”

Mandelina wasn’t an expert on the World Tree, but she understood just how impressive Bellaruna was.

Accessing the World Tree at all was already something only an exceptional elf could do.

But to not only slip past the defenses of the elf nobility controlling it, but also attempt to view restricted information?

With her disheveled look, stammering speech, and heavy dark circles, Bellaruna seemed like an oddball of an elf.

But her skill was unquestionably real.

‘No wonder that man keeps her around.’

Mandelina nodded in understanding.

By now replenished, Bellaruna placed her palms on the dead World Tree again, attempting another connection.

Mandelina wondered how long she’d be at it this time — but surprisingly, Bellaruna came back to herself quickly.

“...Ah. This is bad.”

“What is it?”

“Yeah... this is turning into something big.”

When Mandelina asked what she meant, Bellaruna replied in a dazed tone.

“I think the Elf Kingdom is preparing for war.”