You ever win something so hard people won’t shut up about it?

  Because that was our life now.

  Following the cataclysmic finale of our inter-academy battle, Squad 7 had somehow transitioned from “those unstable weirdos who accidentally made it to second year” to “future pilrs of the Empire”—said with a straight face by actual officials and not just drunk professors.

  The Academy press descended on us like we’d announced a royal wedding and a demon incursion at once.

  The Royal Award Ceremony: Smiling While Internally ScreamingWe stood on a pristine marble ptform inside the Royal Hall of Recognition—yes, that’s a real pce—bathed in golden sunlight, with royal banners flowing dramatically behind us like we were poster children for Empire propaganda.

  The top 4 squads were called onstage.

  Squad 7? Naturally the st. Save the chaos for the finale.

  “Squad 7, recognized for exempry combat prowess, tactical flexibility, and highly unconventional—but undeniably effective—methods,” the announcer said, very clearly trying not to say “menace to the public.”

  I smiled and waved. Ember perched proudly on my shoulder, tail swishing like royalty.

  Standing beside us were the ever-dignified Leonhart von Dresner and Ingrid the Living Battle Sermon, along with two other squads I barely noticed because one of them had an archer who kept gring at Eli like she stole his lunch money in third grade.

  Dresner: The Unexpected InviteAfter receiving our medals and magically inscribed commendation scrolls (which I would absolutely mispce in a week), Dresner stepped toward us. Still handsome. Still regal. Still annoying.

  “Lucien,” he said. “Rielle. Squad 7.”

  “Oh, he remembered our names,” I muttered.

  “Our kingdom wishes to formally invite your team to visit Sarnhild as honored guests. We have a dungeon—formed, just like yours, from a rift that appeared a century ago. Perhaps... our teams could explore it together.”

  For a second, I smiled. Then I paused. Then my brain activated.

  Two kingdoms. Two rifts. Same century. Same dungeon type. Simir evolution patterns.

  “Wait,” I muttered. “Are we seriously doing the mysterious parallel dungeon spawn trope? Am I in a novel?”

  Rielle elbowed me. Eli smirked. Gram whispered, “What if you’re the reincarnated demon king who caused the rifts?”

  “I’ll drink your potion if you don’t shut up.”

  Fame Hurts My Introvert SoulAfter the ceremony, we were released back into the wild.

  By which I mean: the general public.

  Reporters swarmed us outside the pace gates, yelling things like:

  “Lucien, is it true you drank a forbidden potion during your fight?!”

  “Eli, do you pn to enlist in the royal guard?!”

  “Rielle, are you really in a retionship with Lucien?!”

  “Wait, what?!” I spun. “How did that even—?!”

  “We’ve seen the way she gres at girls who talk to you.”

  “That’s not romance,” I said. “That’s called protective squad leader behavior!”

  Rielle just stared at me. “Oh?”

  “See! She’s blushing!”

  I died a little inside.

  Finally, Home: Time to Cash InThree hours of noble handshakes, small talk, and photographer fshes ter, we escaped to my house, which has slowly become our squad’s base of operations ssh temporary war camp.

  I walked straight into Kael’s study, dramatically dropped my medal on the desk like it was a dead bird, and said, “I want my wand.”

  He looked up from his scrolls. “It’s not a dog treat, Lucien.”

  “You promised. Wand. Me. Now.”

  “Yes, yes. You’ll get your wand. I even have a core prepared.”

  “Please don’t say it’s a squirrel.”

  He smirked. “No. It’s a basilisk core. I’ve had it sealed since you were five.”

  My brain short-circuited.

  “You—you had a basilisk core lying around?!”

  “You’re my son. I knew you’d need it someday.” His smile was annoyingly smug.

  “Why not a dragon?” I asked, mostly to be annoying.

  “Because dragons are smart. Basilisks are angry. That’s more your frequency.”

  Touché.

  He scribbled a few notes and nodded. “It’ll be ready in three days.”

  The Squad House Party (Again)Naturally, everyone crashed at my pce. Again.

  Gram was brewing glowing potions on the balcony and making the neighbor’s cat hallucinate butterflies. Eli was sparring with invisible enemies in the yard. Rielle had cimed my bed for reasons.

  “You all live here now?” I asked, staring at the couch like it owed me answers.

  “You love it,” Rielle said, flipping a page of her book without looking up.

  “Sure. I enjoy being held emotionally hostage in my own house.”

  The Proposal Joke. Again.And then it happened.

  Just as I was pouring myself a cup of peace (a.k.a. tea), Serina Sylwin, aka Rielle’s dangerously spirited mother, stormed in like she owned the pce.

  “Well, now that you’ve won a royal tournament and brought home a medal—”

  “Please no.”

  “—I think it’s time we marry you two off so I can die knowing Rielle’s in safe hands!”

  “Mother!” Rielle shrieked from upstairs.

  “What?! I’m old. I want drama and grandchildren!”

  “You’re forty-two!”

  “Which is nearly fifty!”

  I walked past her slowly, sipping my tea. “If I vanish tomorrow, you all know why.”

  Closing Thoughts: Lucien’s Post-Battle Brain FogSo here I was.

  On break. Wand inbound. Fame rising. Invitations to other kingdoms appearing.

  And for once… I wasn’t worried about demons or final exams or surprise attacks.

  Just mildly annoyed by attention.

  “Are we… the Empire’s st hope?” I whispered to Ember, curled on my windowsill.

  She snorted smoke and flicked her tail like a punctuation mark.

  “Right. That’s a yes.”