CHAPTER 130: THE CALM BEFORE BLOOD

Alex sighed and turned toward Tina, asking in a calm voice,

"I’ve been training on my own. I just came to ask—when’s the final match? I don’t want to forget."

Tina crossed her arms and nodded.

"Final’s in five days. Practice matches start in two. You should join in—your teamwork still needs work."

Alex nodded silently, accepting the advice. As he turned to leave, his gaze briefly landed on Selene.

She wore a new outfit—tight, blue leather-like material hugging her frame, designed for speed and agility. She moved faster than before, a blur as she sparred with Rina, who was in her usual maroon jacket and jeans.

Alex smiled faintly, then exited the training hall.

He made his way to the cafeteria and ordered barbecue skewers for both himself and Hati. They ate quietly, the food warm and comforting after the long day.

By the time they left, night had already settled in.

The moon hung high in the centre of the sky, casting a silver glow across the restless sea.

Click.

The key turned in the lock.

Alex and Hati stepped into the familiar dorm room—their sanctuary.

Alex went straight to the window, unlatching it and letting the salty sea breeze hit his face. It was cold, brisk, and alive.

He breathed it in.

Hati, meanwhile, padded over to the bed, jumped up, circled once, and curled into a warm ball before yawning and slipping into sleep.

Alex shook his head and smiled at his lazy companion.

Then, without a word, he sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor. He closed his eyes.

In an endless clear sea, beneath an unmoving sky, a small barren island floated alone in the center.

A wisp appeared—blue and transparent, shaped like a small glowing orb with a tail. It had eyes and a faint mouth, resembling Alex’s features.

Alex looked at himself and blinked.

"I appeared like this? Last time I was unconscious, my whole body came to the island. Was that a special occasion?"

He glanced at the tranquil sea and muttered,

"Anyway... let’s begin."

With a small breath, he dove into the clear waters. It was refreshing—like his very soul was bathing in warmth.

He swam downward, deeper and deeper, until the surface was far above and all around him was still and blue.

He paused and recalled what the elemental manual had said:

"At the depth of your elemental essence sea, start with a single drop. Learn to move the water toward you, drop by drop."

Focused, Alex stretched his will and tried to command the water.

He urged it to move, to come closer—just one drop.

But nothing happened.

Not even a ripple.

He tried again.

And again.

And again.

Still—nothing.

Frustration rose like a wave inside him.

"What am I doing wrong?"

He screamed inside his thoughts,

"Why won’t it move? Is my command too weak?"

Suddenly, pain exploded in his mind—searing, raw. It tore through him from the inside out, and he was forced to eject from the mind space.

He jolted back into the real world, collapsing on the cold stone floor, panting heavily.

His body was soaked in sweat, dampening the floor beneath him.

His skull throbbed violently, as if it was splitting open from the strain.

The exhaustion was crushing.

Groaning, he began circulating his wood elemental power. A gentle warmth spread through his body, soothing the pain bit by bit. But the mental fatigue remained.

Eventually, he stood up shakily and stumbled to his bed. He laid down, staring at the ceiling, thoughts spiralling.

"What did I do wrong?"

That question echoed in his mind as his eyes slowly drifted shut, slipping into sleep still searching for an answer.

Far away from the peaceful Academy, at the far edges of civilization, stood the frontlines—where danger met defiance.

In every direction from the main cities, three smaller fortress-cities were stationed like sentinels, each guarding against a specific threat.

Across the world, the design was the same. These outposts stood firm against the edges of danger zones—whether they were deep forests, scorching deserts, molten lava fields, glacial wastes, roaring seas, towering mountains, misty hills, or bottomless canyons.

In each of these wild lands, monsters thrived. And against them, humanity stood like a wall.

Monsters weren’t united, but humans were.

The monsters had one singular desire—a hunger buried deep in their nature:

To reclaim what they once owned—their ancient slaves. The humans.

Romania City, like so many others, was small. A northern outpost of White Phoenix territory, its only duty was to keep watch over a relatively minor A-rank danger zone.

But tonight... the forest wasn’t quiet.

In the darkness of the night, cloaked by shadows, an army of monsters marched silently beneath the trees.

They stopped at the tree line, just beyond the outer border of Romania City.

Dozens of glowing eyes stared hungrily at the distant city wall.

They were waiting—still as statues, tense as coiled springs—waiting for the signal of war.

Perched in the trees were Thunder Eagles, arcs of electricity dancing along their razor-sharp talons.

On the forest floor, Earth Bears growled low, brown aura pulsing like the heartbeat of the land itself.

Beside them, Thunder Wolves prowled with glowing blue eyes, lightning crackling around the obsidian-black horns that curved from their foreheads.

Among the brush, the graceful yet eerie Ice Deer stood motionless, surrounded by a deathly cold mist.

And in the shadows slithered the Shadow Panthers, their golden eyes gleaming in the dark, bodies cloaked in smoke-like darkness.

They simply waited—like predators at the edge of a feast.

The army of monsters suddenly fell silent.

A ripple passed through them, a primal instinct—something stronger was approaching.

The crowd parted as if pushed aside by invisible force, clearing a path without a single word.

Thrum!

Thrum!

The earth trembled beneath slow, deliberate steps.

An icy aura spread through the trees, chilling the air to the point that breath crystallized mid-exhale.

Even the wind seemed to retreat.

A shadow emerged from the forest—a towering figure cloaked in darkness.

Step by step, it came into the pale light of the moon.

Its feet were massive paws, claws piercing the earth with every stride. White fur covered in jagged black stripes shimmered faintly under the moonlight.

Its legs were beast-like, muscular, animalistic—clearly not human—yet its posture stood upright, as if a predator had learned to walk like a man.

And then, its face appeared.

The face of a white tiger.

Glowing blue eyes pierced through the dark, and frost clung to the fur around its snarling mouth.

It exhaled, and cold fog drifted from its jaws like the breath of winter itself.

Around it, every monster bowed—not out of fear, but reverence.

Their king had arrived.

The white tiger’s gaze swept across his army.

Then, with a menacing, fanged smile, he growled out guttural, broken words:

"Me... the... King... We... attack..."

A chorus of howls and roars answered him.

Thunder Wolves howled at the moon, Earth Bears slammed their claws into the dirt, Thunder Eagles shrieked overhead.

Their excitement surged like a rising tide.

The White Tiger grinned wider, then continued in a low rumble:

"We... eat... the... tasty... tasty... flesh... of... our... slaves..."

Laughter and howls echoed through the trees, monstrous and maddening.

Then—he raised his clawed, humanoid hand and clenched it into a fist.

He roared:

"ATTACK!"