"Ariel, are you okay?"

Looking at Ariel in front of him, whose face was blank and eyes were lifeless, Moen felt utterly confused. Just as he was about to check her out…

Suddenly.

With a loud thud.

Ariel dropped to her knees, first gazing blankly at the heavens, then slamming the ground in frustration. Finally, she let out a heart-wrenching roar that seemed to come from the depths of her soul:

"No—my money—!"

"The cold wind howls—the snowflakes drift—"

"What are you singing?!"

Ariel raised her head, glaring furiously at Moen.

"Ah, no, it's just... it felt so familiar that I sang it out unconsciously."

Moen scratched his nose with an awkward smile and then quickly maneuvered around Ariel, who, despite her puzzling behavior, seemed best left alone. He walked toward Professor Pulan instead.

"Apologies, the preparations took a little longer than expected. Sorry for keeping you all waiting. Let me introduce myself—Moen Campbell."

Moen first offered the group an apologetic smile. He didn't need to say those to Lea and Senior Fannie—he already knew them well. Then, he went over to greet the remaining three whom he wasn't very familiar with.

"Vicky Mors. Just call me Vicky."

"Aaron Mack. I've seen you fight before. We should definitely spar sometime."

"Marshall."

After exchanging a few casual words, Moen turned his gaze back to Professor Pulan and asked, "Professor Pulan, where’s the accompanying teacher for this trip? Aren’t they here yet?"

After all, it had been promised that a top-tier, mysterious powerhouse, someone comparable to The Crowned, would be accompanying them. Moen had been eagerly anticipating meeting them.

"They’re here."

Professor Pulan pointed over his shoulder with a look of disdain.

"Huh?"

Already here?

And yet, he hadn’t sensed anything at all.

As expected from someone described by Professor Pulan as one who was not just comparable to The Crowned, but in some ways superior.

Following the direction of Professor Pulan's gesture, Moen turned to look—and saw…

A ridiculous pink bear mascot, which had somehow climbed atop the lead carriage of their convoy. He was currently harassing the two dragon-blood horses attached to it, who trembled in terror.

As it petted the horses, it let out a grotesque chuckle and said, "Such fine horses, truly exquisite. Look at these rumps, these thighs, these elegant curves. Each one must be worth at least a million Emil, huh? Hehehe, wonder how many boxes of premium cigars and saintess magazines I could buy if I sold them…"

"…"

Watching the pink bear waggle its butt, round bottom back and forth, Moen froze for a moment before finally snapping out of it. He cursed under his breath:

"What the hell… It’s him?!"

The Pink Bear Dean?

The mascot that seemed completely unreliable?

*He* was the one Professor Pulan had referred to as that mysterious powerful man?

Was he really up to the task?

"Hmm?"

As though sensing Moen's doubts, the Pink Bear sharply turned its head. Its beady little eyes glared at him, and suddenly, a fuzzy paw extended dramatically from its mouth, gesturing wildly.

"You brat, are you looking down on me?"

"No, absolutely not!"

Moen widened his eyes, his face suddenly radiating righteousness as he declared, "Dean, you are wise and mighty, unparalleled in your magnificence. Knowing that someone as impressive as you is accompanying us to Holy City fills me with nothing but joy and relief—I could never look down on you."

"Hmph, quick with the flattery, aren’t you?"

The Pink Bear swiveled its furry paw, scratching its behind as it sighed, "Still, I'm no longer a dean. You can just call me Pink Bear. Sigh... Who would've thought someone as dashing and charismatic as me, Pink Bear, would be reduced to babysitting a bunch of kids? What’s happened to this world?"

"…"

Moen's mouth twitched as he quietly leaned closer to Professor Pulan and whispered, "Are we really sure about this?"

"Don’t worry, his power—"

"I’m not talking about his power," Moen interrupted.

After all, being an acting dean in Hathaway’s absence already implied that this seemingly ridiculous mascot had both the power and the status to match. That much was beyond questioning.

"What I mean is... he doesn’t seem particularly reliable, does he?"

"He doesn’t *seem* unreliable—he *is* unreliable," Professor Pulan replied with a deadpan face.

"…"

"But trust me, I have ways to handle him. At the very least, during this journey, he’ll protect you. With his power, coupled with yours…" Professor Pulan glanced briefly at the last carriage before continuing, "Under normal circumstances, nothing should go wrong. Teachers from the academy have already gone ahead to Holy City; they’ll be there to receive and support all of you."

"And besides, given his status, it wouldn’t hurt for you to build a good relationship with him—it would serve you well instead."

"Status?"

"…"

Professor Pulan shook his head, choosing not to answer. Instead, he turned his gaze to the Pink Bear, his eyes narrowing as he said seriously, "Former Acting Dean, as I mentioned before, I sent your beloved limited-edition cigars and private magazine collection ahead to Holy City. If you don’t want to see them torn to pieces... make sure these kids get to Holy City—every single one of them, safe and sound!"

Moen: "…"

The group: "…"

"Tsk, you sly old crook."

The Pink Bear clicked its tongue in annoyance before twisting its body and lying on its side atop the driver's seat. Waving its paw lazily at the group, it said, "Fine, fine, stop yapping already. Let’s move. If we’re late and my treasures suffer in Holy City, I’ll blame you all!"

"…"

Moen turned to Professor Pulan. "Then, we’ll set off now, Professor."

"Go ahead."

Professor Pulan clasped a hand on each student’s shoulder in turn. For a rare moment, a trace of warmth softened his usually stern expression as he said, "This Holy City trip might turn out to be... special. But you’ll learn more when you get there. Until then, just treat it as a little adventure."

"Understood."

The group responded as one. Almost instinctively, all their gazes fell on Moen, as though waiting for him to take charge.

Moen blinked, briefly startled, before breaking into a gentle smile.

"Six carriages. The last one is a special case and can’t be used, so apart from Pink Bear and me, who’ll each have our own carriage, the rest of you will travel two per carriage. No objections, I assume?"

"None!"

Who could complain about luxuriating in such extravagant carriages without paying a single Emil?

"Alright then."

Moen extended his hand and gave a spirited wave. "Santa Maria College delegation, let's depart! Destination: Holy City!"

"Yes!"

A resounding reply echoed, brimming with energy and enthusiasm.

Though somewhere within it, someone’s unwilling, helpless, despairing tone of frustration could faintly be discerned—like a suppressed wail destined for the rooftops.

…

…

The convoy departed, leaving behind the departing figures of the students. The once-busy academy gradually sank into a profound silence.

At the gates of the academy, Professor Pulan stood with his silver cane, watching their fading silhouettes.

Suddenly, a distortion rippled through the space beside him, and a woman clad in a pink nightgown stepped out: Mentor Mela Dormir.

"Mentor Mela Dormir," Professor Pulan greeted her with a respectful bow.

Mela nodded slightly before setting her gaze on the horizon. However, her attention wasn’t on the direction Moen had gone—it was on the heart of Belland.

"Such a lively scene," she said.

"Indeed, quite lively."

Professor Pulan followed her gaze. With his keen eyesight, he easily spotted the massive procession winding through Belland’s streets.

It was another convoy heading to Holy City, this one bearing the Leopard Empire’s official delegation. Along with the escorts, knights, officials, and other participants, the procession included carriages filled with gifts for the church.

After all, the Life Church’s Saintess Ceremony, held only once every few decades, warranted such tributes from all sides—a gesture of respect.

But in truth, for most factions, the ceremony itself wasn’t what mattered. After all, who the new saintess would be wasn’t of significant concern to most.

What truly mattered was…

"The Lost Land of Kanteville..."

Professor Pulan sighed. "Based on previous reassessments, all sides estimated that it would take the Life Church at least another twenty years to unlock the ancient nation’s entrance. No one imagined they’d discover it so much sooner. What a sudden development."

"The Moon’s demise did have some sorts of benefits, didn't it?" Mela said casually, shrugging as her gaze returned to her disciple, bypassing every obstacle between them.

"Now, factions from all corners are using the pretext of attending the Anointing to flock there, like ants drawn to sugar."

"Brat, I wasn’t lying to you this time. Your trip to Holy City truly holds countless opportunities and surprises awaiting you.

However..."

Mela abruptly paused, her voice taking on an inexplicably strange tone.

"For you, it seems like even the journey itself won’t be an easy ride."

…

Above Belland, the biting winter wind howled.

But within the bitter chill, a faint, almost transparent shadow—like faded ink—swiftly streaked across the sky.

The shadow circled the city once, its movements deliberate, before locking onto the convoy speeding into the distance.

Soon, the shadow dove into the mouth of a tall chimney, solidifying further as it spiraled downward.

Finally, it took form as a… robin.

The robin landed softly and surveyed its eerie surroundings, where the animals appeared to be holding their breath, waiting. Its eyes fell on the dignified tiger at the center, and it gently nodded in acknowledgment.

"Ladies and gentlemen."

The tiger suddenly stood upright on its hind legs and announced in a deep voice:

"Prepare yourselves, our time has come."

...

"Hmm?"

Moen was struck by a sudden chill.

He shifted his gaze away from the rapidly retreating scenery, searching for the source of his unease. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a bird's shadow.

"This isn't the academy, spring hasn’t arrived yet, so where would the birds come from?"

The feeling of being spied stung his skin like needles. Frowning slightly, Moen leaned his head out of the window, stretched his neck forward, and shouted:

"Uncle Pink Bear! Can we go any faster?"

"Damn it, stop calling me 'uncle!' I'm still in my prime and determined to flirt with a hundred beautiful ladies with big breasts and long legs!"

Pink Bear cursed aloud, kicked the Dragon-blood Horse in the rear, and then burst into laughter:

"But if you’re looking for some thrills, I can certainly oblige. Buckle up, kids!"

The Dragon-blood Horse neighed loudly, pulling the carriage forward like a raging wind, leaping ahead with incredible speed.