Leonie felt an overwhelming need to turn around. Her seventh sense told her to look at the dangerous presence behind her. Her jaw stiffened. No matter how hard she tried to speak, not a word came out of her mouth. Slowly, she turned around just to meet Instructor Clarke's eyes. Mana surged through his body. The ground shattered under his boots.

"I'll handle this."

Leonie had never heard such a serious tone coming out of his mouth, not even when Nessa Morag-Vedras tried to harm Yvain during training.

Someone snatched Leonie's shoulders, and the next moment, she was in the air. Firana had lifted her before flying backwards, with Zaon backpedaling to join them while keeping his guard raised. Before her, Instructor Clarke moved like an arrow. He caught the Ice Mage's head with his right hand and somehow drained his energy. Raw mana coursed through his body and was discharged through his left hand. Mana arcs scorched the ground. It almost looked like he had torn the Ice Mage's soul out of his body by force.

That wasn't a Sage skill. Mana Drain was a rare skill only available to some Hexmages, Witches, Tricksters, and certain flavors of Sorcerers. A Sage's skillset, on the other hand, was aligned with the spells of an elemental mage.

"He's mad," Firana nervously said.

"Y-yeah," Zaon replied.

Leonie had never seen Instructor Clarke like that. On a rational level, she knew that the destructive level of high-level Prestige Classes was almost off the charts. However, it was hard to think of Instructor Clarke as a destructive force. He was good-natured and easy to talk to. During lessons, he allowed Fenwick to make fun of him and even teased Yvain and Malkah to encourage them to get out of their shell. He treated them a bit like kids, but not in a bad sense.

Leonie couldn't take her eyes off the scene.

The Ice Mage fell to the ground, his mana completely drained. Instructor Clarke shook his head and summoned a sword completely out of mana. Leonie had to blink twice before accepting what her eyes showed her. [Mana Blade] was a high-level skill that only martial classes with good magical specs learned. The only Class in the Scribe evolution line that learned it was the Prestige Class Tactician, and Instructor Clarke wasn't one.

Instructor Clarke slashed the long-limbed cadet from shoulder to navel like his body was made of loose sand. The insect cadet flew into his blind spot, but Instructor Clarke turned around and cut its body in two at the waist. The infected cadets fell like paper dolls.

The battle was over.

Instructor Clarke looked at the sky and shouted something in a language Leonie hadn't heard before. Considering the tone, she knew it had to be a curse. They approached the battlefield, and Leonie got a close view of the cadets. Even in death, red crystals kept growing from their bodies, although any trace of mana was gone.

"There are corrupted cadets everywhere. The whole exam area is compromised. We have to evacuate the exam area," Instructor Clarke announced back, speaking flawless Ebrosian again. "Zaon, take Leonie to Station Six. Firana, inform the main camp about the events. I want every third-year cadet and Instructor on the field. Avoid combat unless it's necessary. If the area is too dangerous, send them to the nearest Station."

Firana and Zaon nodded, but Leonie stood in place.

"I can still fight!" she said.

Instructor Clarke smiled, and his mana fluttered. A mirror appeared in the air, or rather, the illusion of a mirror. Leonie looked at her own face. It was cut, bruised, and swollen, way worse than she had expected. The rest of her body wasn't in better shape. The padded jacket had been almost reduced to rags, and her right sleeve was torn apart, revealing her shoulder but hiding her Corrupted hand. As her seventh sense went back to sleep, the pain returned. Leonie felt like she had been trampled by Skeeths, and her body was put back together with a piece of rope.

"I will send Wolf to Station Six. He'll take care of your wounds," Instructor Clarke said, his affable voice back. "You already did everything you could. You fought well."

"A-alright," Leonie stuttered.

Panic suddenly got hold of her as she realized what she had done. Her throat closed like a Stone Golem had closed its hand around her neck. Corruption couldn't be healed by regular means, and she had gotten a whole lot of it. Even if she survived, her place in the Imperial Knights program was as good as gone.

"Is something wrong, Leonie?" Instructor Clarke asked.

"N-No. It's just a lot to take in."

Instructor Clarke lowered his head until their eyes were at the same level and smiled.

"It's over now. Zaon and the Fortifiers will keep you safe now. You'll be fine."

"Y-yeah."

Leonie couldn't get herself to mention the Corruption.

Instructor Clarke stood up. He seemed taller than Leonie remembered.

"Alright, team! Roll out!"

* * *

The faction behind the contaminated potions had snuck under my surveillance.

I landed at the top of a hill, wondering how things had turned out so badly. During the trip, I had made sure to check the caravan supplies and even asked Holst for help. We had used [Identify] on everything but found no suspicious potions.

The caravan was made up of Imperial Knights, first—and third-year cadets, and Academy aides whose loyalty was bound by Hexes. There was also Evelisse and her daughters, but none of them was particularly suspicious—or capable of pulling something like this. If I had to guess, someone had put the contaminated potions in the supply caches after the start of the exam.

Astur and Rhovan's Imperial Knights severely lacked empathy, but they took their positions too seriously to plot against the Academy.

My head hurt.

Although the royal family tried to monopolize high-level individuals, that didn't mean there weren't some of them who shared an anti-nobility sentiment. Risha, Elincia, and Izabeka were all above Lv.40, and weren't particularly happy with the Marquis. The only reason I played their game was because it was the best for the orphanage and the kids.

Evelisse was wrong.

The anti-nobility movement wasn't just a bunch of disgruntled farmers and peasants.

To pull something like this under the noses of the most powerful individuals of the kingdom, they have to be more than that.

[Minor Aerokinesis] sent me into the air. Each station had a Fortifier protecting the aides and the supplies. If the cadets managed to reach a station, they would be safe.

I put more mana into the skill and shot forward like a rocket. I didn't know how fast I was going, but a couple of minutes later, I was inside Station Two. The Fortifier was startled by my sudden arrival, but luckily, their offensive prowess was similar to that of a Soldier Class.

"Lord Clarke? What is happening?" one of the aides asked.

"We are under attack," I replied, walking directly into the supply crates and dumping their contents into the ground.

"Hey! That's property of the Academy!"

The Fortifier put a hand on my shoulder, but I pushed him away. It took a mere glance to make him freeze. The next crate was full of spare clothes and bedrolls. I grabbed the pieces of cloth and threw them to the side. Underneath was a tidy row of purple potions.

I used [Identify].

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Regeneration Boost Potion. [Identify] Alchemy Potion. Effect: High. Toxicity: Dangerous. A rare high-grade potion that heals wounds and has an invigorating effect over time. Excessive mana usage could have adverse effects.

I cursed. They weren't the same Energy Boost potions we found in the maze exam, but my instinct told me their effects were just as disastrous. I closed my eyes and forced [Foresight] to recount the events of the past few days. Those potions weren't in the supply carts when Holst and I checked them, and they weren't in the supply crates of Station Six where I had been standing guard.

"Who put this here?" I asked, unable to hide my anger.

"I-I don't know, Lord Clarke. Those were there since the beginning. We assumed they were for the cadets who already used theirs… just like food and water."

I put a potion in my potions pouch as evidence.

"Don't let anyone use these. They are dangerous. Understood?"

"Yes, Lord Clarke."

I grabbed the Transmitter Bracelet and contacted Ilya. As she was fluent in Morse, it was easier to relay complex messages to her. I told her to gather cadets and dropouts in Station Six. Wolf was still outside comms range.

Thinking about the next step, I froze.

Odo, Harwin, and Malkah were the most vulnerable members of the squad. Yvain wouldn't have troubles if he only fought a single opponent at a time, but would be at risk otherwise. Cedrinor and Ginevra had experience fighting monsters, but their skill sets were on the shallow side compared to the other cadets. And there were also the students from Basilisk and Gaiarok squads.

The corrupted cadets could not turn back. I tried to drain all the mana from the Ice Mage, but the corruption didn't disappear. The thought offered a little comfort, but once they turned, it was over. The only mercy I could offer them was to kill them fast.

I used [Mirage] to cast a hologram of the area and jumped into the sky.

My heart skipped a beat. With the corner of my eye, I saw two figures wearing white cloaks and golden masks.

"Zealots?"

I changed directions with [Minor Aerokinesis] and shot forward. A slim mana barrier protected me from the winds, and in a few seconds, I covered hundreds of meters. I landed, and [Foresight] allowed me to detect the sounds of battle ahead. More than a battle, it was a struggle.

When I broke through the bushes, I found a dropout sprawled on the ground with his neck open and blood gushing through the wound. The Zealots stood in silence behind their masks, bloody dagger in their hands. Mana surged through my body, and they noticed my presence.

"Don't interfere. We are carrying out a Quest," the zealot said with a coarse voice.

Suddenly, the body of the fallen dropout quivered, and Red Corruption Crystals grew from his back, although he was already dead.

"L-let me assist you. I'm Robert Clarke, Instructor of the Imperial Academy. I know the position of many of the cadets," I said while I tapped a message for my kids, hoping to be in range.

Third-party hostiles. Evacuate immediately.

The Zealots exchanged a brief look and nodded. One of them looked up and to the front, as if he had opened a System window. A moment later, his eyes fell on me.

"Our next target is Rup Jorven the Third, a Puppeteer Lv.5. She should be in the vicinity, northwest of this position," he said with a deadpan voice.

My blood froze inside my veins. If she had followed her itinerary, that was exactly where Rup should be. The Zealots were a secondary problem. Most importantly, Rup must've drunk a potion.

"I will scout ahead," I said, and before any of them could answer, I shot into the sky.

Rup had to be halfway between Station Two and Station Eight.

The area was dry and rugged, and the shortest path slithered over a line of steep hills. Nothing grew there, which made it easy to survey the terrain. I looked down at the sparse forest. Cadets and dropouts scrambled to the south like ants chased by water. Behind them, a surge of Red Corruption creatures chased them.

Station Eight must have been targeted by the anti-nobility movement. Considering the number of creatures, there had to be contaminated potions there.

My first instinct was to help them, but Ebrosian Rob blocked my feelings.

My sole responsibility was Rup.

"Please, don't be transformed," I muttered to myself.

I landed on top of a hill and shot up again, ignoring the cadets.

The area became green again.

[Foresight] slowed time, and my eyes absorbed the scenery. My overcharged brain heated up as my thoughts went ten times faster than usual. A migraine hit me. It felt like someone pushed daggers through my eye sockets, but I kept them open. Time stretched. I was suspended in the air for what felt like an hour until I detected it. Like a few smudged pixels of a digital photograph, I noticed the leg of Rup's puppet sitting on a tree branch.

Time accelerated back to normal pace, and I landed next to a corrupted dropout that now resembled a bull. I ignored it and jumped. Like an arrow, I shot towards the puppet. The Zealots were hundreds of meters behind me and rapidly closing the gap.

I landed with too much momentum, and my knees creaked.

The puppet was above me, hidden between the trees, but there was no sign of Rup. Without a good detection skill, I wouldn't have seen it. No. Even with good detection skills, I wouldn't have seen it unless I were looking for it. There were no mana strings attached to the puppet.

"Rup?" I called out loud.

"Instructor Clarke?" A weak voice replied from behind a rocky formation.

I rushed towards the rocks. Rup's head emerged from the beige blanket she was using to camouflage herself. She was covered in sweat, and dark circles had appeared under her eyes. She breathed raggedly and seemed to be in great pain.

"My rations might have been spoiled… I don't feel so well," she said between pained grunting.

"A refill potion, did you drink it?!"

Rup gave me a confused glance.

"Y-yes? My knee got grazed by one of those red monsters. It was not a big deal, but I needed more movement if I wanted to get away, so I popped the potion."

I cursed and dragged Rup from her hideout.

"W-whats happening?"

She must've detected my restlessness.

I used [Identify].

Name: Rup Jorven the Third, Cat Spirit Beastfolk (Night Vision, Keen Senses, Agile).

Class: Puppeteer Lv.5.

Titles: Jolly, Toymaker, Third Generation Artisan.

Passive: Fencing Lv.2, Longsword Mastery Lv.2, Carving Lv.3, Throwing Lv.1, Mana Manipulation, Puppet Senses.

Skills: Puppetry, Fortify Puppet, Mana Thread, Mend.

Status: Exhausted Lv.5, Panic Lv.1, Mana Exhaustion Lv.2, Red Toxicity Lv.9.

"You are contaminated," I said, putting on my Mage Killer Gloves. Lv.10 was the theoretical maximum of Passives and Status by System standards.

The girl's jaw dropped, and she looked at me in disbelief.

"I'm going to turn into one of them!"

"Of course not!" I replied with more confidence than I actually felt. It was a far-fetched theory, but depleting Rup's mana might help. Mana Drain had been extremely effective against Vanira and the Ice Mage. I just hoped it was enough to prevent the transformation.

"You are lying! You are not sure," Rup said, trembling like a leaf.

Her cat-like ears flattened back.

"This will hurt."

Before Rup could get away, I grabbed her collar and drained her mana, albeit more gently than I did with the Ice Mage. Arcs of red mana scorched the ground, and Rup screamed in pain.

Corruption occurred when mana channels were overcharged, whether naturally or by abusing the System. If Rup had no mana to overcharge her channels, she would not turn. Or so I hoped.

"Hold on!" I said, but Rup didn't seem to hear me.

To my surprise, the runes on the Mage Killer Gloves were being eroded. I hadn't been using them for long. Was it the Red Corruption? The world was suddenly distorted, like that one time I had a high fever when I was a kid. I felt like I was falling into the runic circuits myself.

The Vampiric rune felt strange.

'Vampiric. Vampiric. Vampiric,' I repeated the name in my mind until it lost its meaning.

It was a fleeting sensation, but for a moment, I understood that 'Vampiric' was just the name the System gave to the rune. The real meaning was there, underneath the System. I could vaguely sense it, like a blind man feeling the contours of a statue, but at the same time, I became overly conscious of my lack of understanding.

[Foresight] dragged me back to the surface.

The runic circuit of the Mage Killer Glove had collapsed. The leather was destroyed, and the skin of my hand was scorched. Grasping onto the last shreds of understanding that were fleeing from my conscious mind, I spoke the Fountain's language without the assistance of the System. Vampiric meant to snatch, enrapture, pluck, possess, reach, to force one's authority. All of them, and none at the same time.

Like needles, tiny red shards emerged from Rup's skin and gathered in the palm of my hand, forming a living red crystal. The girl whimpered in pain. Then, the sensation disappeared, and my brain forgot the meaning of the rune. The whole event felt like a distant dream, and not even [Foresight] could bring it back.

Rup cursed, and her jaw relaxed. She was soaked in sweat like she had run a marathon under the scorching summer sun, and the black circles under her eyes were even darker, but she had a relaxed expression.

"Language," I said, catching my breath.

"T-that was inside me?"

The red crystal throbbed in my hand. Unlike Vanira's crystals, this was alive, much like the System shrines. An absorbent sensation gripped me as my sight became lost in its depths. I looked away violently and put it in my pocket.

"I'm going to use [Identify] on you," I said.

Rup nodded.

Name: Rup Jorven the Third, Cat Spirit Beastfolk (Night Vision, Keen Senses, Agile).

Class: Puppeteer Lv.5.

Titles: Jolly, Toymaker, Third Generation Artisan.

Passive: Fencing Lv.2, Longsword Mastery Lv.2, Carving Lv.3, Throwing Lv.1, Mana Manipulation, Puppet Senses.

Skills: Puppetry, Fortify Puppet, Mana Thread, Mend.

Status: Exhausted Lv.5, Panic Lv.1, Mana Exhaustion Lv.2, Red Toxicity Lv.1 (Receeding).

I felt a relief I had only experienced a handful of times in my life.

"I told you you wouldn't turn," I said, although I didn't know if he said it to reassure her or me.

Rup opened her mouth to speak, but her expression froze.

I turned around to encounter the two Zealots dressed in white and gold robes. Their owl-like masks gave them a sinister appearance. [Foresight] slowed down time as one of them threw his dagger at Rup. I channeled my mana and raised a barrier.

The dagger bounced off and flew back to the Zealot's hand.

"Do not interfere. We are carrying out a Quest."

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