Boredom pooled behind Night Frost’s eyes as she stared out the window, sunlight drizzling like chalk-dust through glass. She didn’t need the lecturer’s painstaking autopsy of Monsters’ weak points.

Her mind held half an Abyssal bestiary already; the course could only plaster over a few theoretical gaps. The morning’s notes from Blade kept rearranging in her head, like cards shuffled under moonlight.

She scanned the room. Aside from a few classmates from Jiuqiong University, everyone else was a stranger, their names only pinned to faces in fuzzy photos. The shots looked abstract, like different people wearing the same skin.

While she measured others, others measured her. The guy beside her slid an oil-slick gaze her way. She let it slide off, like rain off lacquer.

The morning block finally ended. No breathers, no pauses. The Order Keepers had shaved downtime to the bone, speed forged by necessity in the Twelfth District.

There were plenty of upper-year agents here. The class rep, newly appointed and surnamed Su, was a junior with grades sharp as winter light.

She wasn’t just sharp; she was kind. Seeing Night Frost was a transfer student, she lent her notes, pages warm with ink and care.

The notes helped. Outside Monster Studies, Night Frost caught only fragments, like fish slipping the net. She felt she’d missed a rung somewhere, and the notes stitched the torn ladder back together.

Her only gripe was the mixed-year grind. Why not split freshmen, sophomores, and juniors? Wouldn’t clean lanes run faster?

Then she thought it through. Sophomore agents were the tide; freshmen the trickle; juniors a stream a little wider than freshmen. Eight or nine sophomore sections could fill a floor. To save space, stacking freshmen with juniors wasn’t a bad call.

And it wasn’t just Jiuqiong University. Students from other academies crowded in, their training bent in different shapes. College kids, as age and credits climb, often rust in the field; better to unlearn and relearn.

After a quick lunch, Night Frost went to Senior Su for intel. From bits and files, Su was a local of the Twelfth District, enrolled at a neighboring academy. She often sagged over exam slips that barred her from Jiuqiong University, yet Night Frost saw the steel in her.

Afternoons had no lectures. Teachers cherry-picked sophomore and junior agents to partner with the Magic Maiden class for a Monster-hunt practicum. Senior Su signed up, eager as spring grass.

Free time meant Night Frost could mine the class for information under her transfer name. She wanted to see the hunt, but duty tugged at her sleeve.

Within half a day, she’d warmed to most classmates. Some dodged her; some were out hunting. Shy, hostile, or simply elsewhere—she flagged them for close watch.

Once she mapped the class, she dug into Su’s notes, chewing the section on Magic Spells. The meat was dense and familiar.

Most agents couldn’t cast, yet they had to learn Magic Spells to mesh with Magic Maidens, to be hands that lift rather than weights that drag.

Every incantation carried Su’s markings—phonetics, pauses, breath-lines—threads that kept Night Frost from tangling herself.

These were universal Magic Spells: the Leap Spell, the Levitate Spell, and the Flight Spell. Seekers had pared them down, testing and passing them on, generation by generation.

Leap was the bedrock of the other two. Beyond Leap, Night Frost planned to pick up Eagle Eye and Night Vision, so darkness and sudden fights wouldn’t make her stumble.

Magic Spells were more than words. They demanded fine control of Mana, the grip of a calligrapher on wet ink. To weave several spells at once with little Mana loss was mastery atop a summit.

“...Grant the night the reach of all my sight.”

Night Frost’s Mana control ranked excellent among new Cantata Two casters, so the simple spells yielded like reeds under wind.

She opened eyes limned with slow light, and the dim room bloomed bright. Orange slid through the window, noon-sharp and eye-piercing.

A light tap to her brow, and Night Vision folded away like shutters. Best not use it under the sun, or she’d torch her own eyes.

Two hours passed. Fresh from Eagle Eye, she glanced around. The room had thinned to a handful of classmates and a teacher on the dais, worry creasing his face like dry soil.

It was self-study time. Anyone could leave, as long as tomorrow’s dawn brought today’s in-class exercises, neat and complete.

“Teacher, what’s troubling you?”

He was the Monster Studies instructor. Night Frost had liked his steady tone.

“The Magic Maiden class team hasn’t returned. I’m worried about those kids. Their hunts were punctual before. It’s late now...”

His worried gaze slipped to the blood-red sunset and the crescent moon hanging midair. Shrill bird calls cut the sky, and the reconstruction site throbbed with steel’s dull hum.

Something felt off, like a string pulled too tight.

“Take heart, Teacher. The Magic Maiden instructor’s strong. Maybe they’re tangled in something. They should be back soon.”

Her comfort eased him a little, but worry still shadowed his brow.

“They’re excellent students. Let’s hope so...”

He hated sending students into risk, yet the fastest crash course was real combat. Survive it, and you’re two-thirds forged.

The Twelfth District had to mass-produce utility from chaos. It was helpless, necessary, and cruel. Everyone carried a burden; the Order Keepers did too.

Night Frost slid Su’s notes into her drawer and stepped into the hall. Outside, a silver-haired girl stood on a stool and watched the sky burn red. She’d clearly been waiting.

Who else but Illusory Glass?

“Mr. Lingchen Yao—no, Miss Night Frost. Sorry I didn’t recognize you in daylight. I didn’t expect you to change this much.”

Illusory Glass had skipped the Magic Maiden hunt. Moon Owl took her to Blade for rating and registration. She was now a Cantata Two Magic Maiden registered with the Twelfth District’s Order Keepers.

Identity brought access. She’d glanced at Blade’s unfinished file on Night Frost and learned Lingchen Yao had become Night Frost. No wonder she couldn’t find a trace lately; she’d feared Night Frost dead in the war. The file cooled that fear.

With a Myth nested inside, Night Frost was hard to kill.

Illusory Glass wasn’t here to marvel at cockroach-tier vitality. She came to keep a promise.

“I’m here to hand over all assets. I vowed that once my goal was done, they’d be yours. It’s a pity—my people died at the border.”

She offered a box, weighty as a secret.

“It’s a replica from an organization. Not much space, but it fits cash and Magic Stones perfectly. The password is 000000.”

Night Frost cracked the lid. Even before it opened, halos off Magic Stones brushed her eyes. She wondered if Illusory Glass had cleaned out a warehouse.

Illusory Glass looked at the climbing crescent and offered an invitation.

“Don’t you think the Magic Maidens have been gone too long?”

She’d sensed the wrongness from her classroom perch, then went to the Order Keeper branch to find Blade and pull the locator. The dots hadn’t moved in over two hours.

The leading teacher’s signal had vanished, as if that blink never existed.

The Order Keepers had sent search teams, but found no trail. Only barren earth and the bones of ruins.

Two classes had met a twist of fate. The Twelfth District branch kept quiet because the residents couldn’t bear more shock.

First came the Chapter Three Monsters’ incursion. Then missiles launched by their own hands. After two weeks of fragile calm, the enemy returned and killed several Magic Maidens and agents.

The district’s nerves were tired, strings drawn tight and fraying. If this leaked, the Twelfth District could unravel in a breath.

The Order Keepers withheld the news and sent teams, hoping to retrieve the lost Magic Maidens and agents within three days. If not, the lid would blow.

“Want to go check?”

“Mm-hm.”

Night Frost took in Illusory Glass’s report and chose to go. She wasn’t close to that class, but Senior Su’s kindness deserved an answer.

They chose a quiet corner to suit up. Crimson-gold flame poured into a skirt and wrapped Night Frost like dawn silk. She clenched her fist; the suit dulled pain to nothing. Her state felt clean. Blade had lifted her restraints. The contract kept her free.

Invisible threads of time cocooned Illusory Glass. Moon-silver hair fell and kissed the black-and-white checkered hem. A black-and-white bow tied at her back. The skirt veiled her thighs and showed lean, healthy calves.

She lowered her silver-white eyes. A heavy grimoire of Mana floated in her small palm.

Its cover bore an extravagant clock in relief, hands razor-clear, tallying this world’s every second. The back held a sandglass, filled with silver Mana grains, each dropping like a comet.

Bathed in moonlight, silvered and still, she looked like a god of time poised to turn the page.