Three months.

For three months, Jonah had a daily routine. He had never had one before.

Mornings started with the sound of metal hitting metal and the crackle of pure energy. The Academy's most advanced training ground was his new classroom, and his only classmates were Draven and Seraph.

CLANG!

Draven's greatsword crashed against the massive shield Titus had lent him. The force of the blow sent a shockwave through the air, but Draven didn't budge. He was a mountain, solid and immovable.

"Too slow, Saint Jonah!" he grunted, a grin on his face. "My grandmother could've parried that!"

"Your grandmother probably swings a rolling pin," Jonah shot back, ducking a shot from Seraph's rifle. He summoned Nyx in a flash of light. The Glimmer-Wing Striker appeared, its disorienting dust causing Draven to blink for a split second.

It was all the time Jonah needed. He rushed in, tapping Draven's chest lightly with his practice blade. "Point."

Draven laughed, a deep sound that was still new to Jonah. "Cheap tricks. As always."

"It's called tactics," Seraph corrected from the sidelines, her rifle lowering. "And it works. Good. Again."

This was their new normal. The rivalry between Jonah and Draven had melted away in the heat of shared combat, replaced by a sturdy, competitive friendship. They pushed each other, learning and growing stronger together under Seraph's watchful eye.

Afternoons were for a different kind of work.

Jonah's workshop was no longer just a dorm room with a weird patio... It was their sanctuary.

Inside, a calm, purposeful energy filled the air. Sylva, his Verdant Guardian, rested peacefully in the center of the room, its presence making the air feel clean and calm. On a massive chalkboard, Vanessa was sketching out complex diagrams, mapping the flow of energy from Sylva's aura.

Jonah sat cross-legged on the floor, his eyes closed, deep in communion with the Progeny. He was trying to understand the full extent of its abilities.

"I can't isolate the purification effect," Vanessa murmured, tapping a rune with her chalk. "Every time I try to analyze the Land's Purification ability, its Aura of Serenity bleeds into the readings. It's like trying to listen to a whisper in a concert hall. We'll never be able to create runic amplifiers for it if we can't separate the signatures."

Jonah opened his eyes, a slow smile spreading across his face. "That's because you're thinking about it the wrong way. They aren't two separate abilities."

He gestured toward the board. "The Aura of Serenity isn't just a calming field. It's a harmonizer. It's the very thing that stabilizes the raw life energy of its purification. One can't exist without the other. It doesn't need a buffer; it is the buffer."

Vanessa's eyes lit up with understanding. "Of course! We don't need to separate them; we need to amplify them together." She frantically began erasing a section of the board, drawing a new array that integrated both concepts. "Okay, this changes everything. Our understanding of Project Requiem is one step closer to complete."

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Seraph found him in the workshop that afternoon. She didn't knock; the wards were keyed to her. She simply walked in, her face grim, holding a data slate.

"We have a problem," she said, her voice flat. There was no room for small talk.

Jonah and Vanessa immediately stopped what they were doing. Seraph's combat-ready tone was a blaring alarm bell.

"What is it?" Jonah asked, standing up.

Seraph placed the slate on the workbench. An image appeared on the screen: a green landscape, but with ugly, grey-brown patches spreading like a disease. The trees in these patches were twisted into monstrous shapes.

"This is the Veridian Province," Seraph explained. "A remote agricultural sector. They're known for their unique magical flora. Or they were."

She swiped the screen. A new image appeared, this one a close-up of a farmer's field. The crops were withered and black, covered in a creeping, thorny vine that seemed to pulse with a sickly light.

"What happened?" Vanessa asked, leaning closer. "A monster attack?"

"Not exactly," Seraph said. "Our victory over the Bureau came at a cost, Jonah. When the Headmaster fired their bosses, he had to move soldiers to new spots. Some less important areas had very few people left. Veridian was one of them."

Jonah felt a cold knot form in his stomach. He remembered the Headmaster's words: Your actions have reshaped the balance of power. He never thought about what that might mean for the people on the fringes.

"For the last two months," Seraph continued, "this… blight… has been spreading. It advances slowly, but it's relentless. The local forces are overwhelmed. They're good soldiers, but they're not equipped for this. It's not a threat they can just shoot."

"Is it a curse?" Jonah asked, his mind immediately going to the Withered Scar.

"We don't know," Seraph admitted. "The reports are confused. They say the blight seems to corrupt the land itself. It twists the plant life, turning it aggressive." She swiped to a blurry image of something large and thorny lunging at the camera. "They're calling them Thorned Horrors."

Jonah stared at the picture. He saw the mangled bodies of livestock in the background, the terror in the eyes of the militia member who had taken the photo. These were innocent people, farmers and villagers, caught in the political chaos he had helped create. His actions, while necessary, had left them vulnerable.

He picked up the data slate. "Send me the full report," he said to Seraph. "Everything you have."

Seraph nodded. "It's already on its way." She gave him a long, searching look. "This isn't your fault, Jonah."

"Isn't it?" he asked quietly.

He turned to Vanessa, his mind already racing. "Let's take a look at this. A biological corruption… not demonic."

Vanessa met his gaze, her expression serious but determined. She understood immediately. The Withered Scar was a wound left by a demon, an echo of pure evil. This was different. This was life, twisted and weaponized.

Jonah looked from the report to the graceful form of Sylva, which he had summoned to the corner of the room. The Verdant Guardian tilted its head, its eyes radiating a gentle warmth, as if it could feel his turmoil.

This was a blight. A sickness. And he had a Progeny designed to heal.