Volume 2 Chapter 6 – Preparations Before Departure

"That's right, Instructor, we have a reason we must go. Please approve our project proposal," Dylin added.

"Exactly. Otherwise... Anyway, we have to go!" Wenfu also stepped forward, crossing her arms and pleading.

Felicia remained silent as she watched her teammates striving so hard on her behalf.

"You young people... truly are newborn calves unafraid of tigers..." The bald instructor frowned at the scene, about to lecture them with the tone of an elder, when he was interrupted.

"Instructor Jedo, don’t be so harsh. These kids seem quite driven to me."

"...Huh?" Upon seeing the tall white-haired instructor in a black trench coat, the bald man’s expression immediately turned more respectful.

The white-haired young man had a handsome face, with pointed ears that clearly revealed his identity.

Dylin glanced at Astrid in surprise.

Was she the one who persuaded Diderlay to greenlight their proposal?

But this involved Astrid’s safety. Why would Diderlay give in so easily? Dylin couldn't help feeling curious.

"Lead Reader Chris, you mean...?"

"This isn't my idea. It's the Principal’s directive," Chris said, glancing at the group.

"The Principal?" Jedo looked at Astrid among the group and immediately understood. "But they’re only first-years. To date, no first-year team from Lanyin Academy has ever returned unscathed from Ruglian."

"Maybe the younger generation really does surpass the old. For these standout students, any assignment other than Ruglian just wouldn’t be a challenge," Chris replied, his eyes scanning across the members of Clarity of Sun and Moon. "But it seems your team’s not fully assembled?"

Actually, they were.

"Teresa got held up with something," Dylin explained.

"I see." Chris nodded, seeming like he wanted to speak with Teresa personally. But since she wasn’t there, he let it go.

"Instructor Jedo, what do you think?"

"Since both the Principal and Lead Reader Chris have spoken, I have no grounds to object." Jedo shook his head. "I'll report the project for Clarity of Sun and Moon right away."

"Thank you for your understanding."

Dylin handed over a modest stack of papers he had prepared in advance.

A project report mainly covered the reason for choosing this topic, its underlying significance, a detailed introduction, and what the team hoped to gain from completing it—divided into several sections.

Dylin was especially good at writing these: standard formal formatting, ornate yet precise wording, elegant and proper language. He could easily write several hundred words per section.

After submitting the forms, the group left the hall.

The assignment was due by the end of the term. With only half the semester gone, there was still plenty of material to learn. Even though everyone in the team—except a certain cat—was academically top-tier, they’d still need more time to absorb this term’s knowledge before completing the project.

That was Dylin’s plan, and everyone else agreed.

Two-thirds of this term would be dedicated to academic study, with the remainder reserved for completing their assignment.

Truthfully, Astrid and Felicia had already finished the current curriculum—far ahead, in fact. At their level, they could be studying third-year materials. But worried that a certain "baggage" might fall behind, they had chosen not to proceed with the assignment just yet.

While the project was primarily aimed at helping Felicia break free from her bloodline's shackles, Dylin was also personally intrigued by the Demon Race and Ruglian.

Since they were heading into the stronghold of the Demon Race, thorough preparation was essential. Dylin immersed himself in the library, poring over books on the Old Continent and the Demon Race.

To all of them, Ruglian was an unfamiliar and perilous region. Much of the truth wasn’t recorded in history books—buried instead in the forgotten remnants of the once-glorious lands of the Lightborn: the Old Continent, Ruglian.

Five hundred years had passed. What Ruglian had become was anyone’s guess.

Speculations abounded. Some scholars believed the Demon Race had claimed the grand halls and city-states of old, squatting like parasites within the ruins of an empire, feeding on its marrow.

Others argued that, given their hatred for surface civilizations, the Demon Race likely razed all architecture and established a new nation—the Demon Kingdom.

The latter view had become dominant. It was why the fragmented invaders were now collectively known as the "Demon Race."

Almost all top Lightborn scholars had agreed to frame the Demon Race as a unified nation for the sake of internal cohesion. Every piece of propaganda painted them as irredeemably evil.

So far, Dylin hadn’t encountered a single friendly Demon Race member. Be it goblins or beastmen, their malice toward humans—and even themselves—was evident.

He poked at the illustration of a goblin in the Demon Race Guidebook. The orange-yellow eyes were full of cunning. With ears like pigs’, small frames, thin limbs, and filthy rags barely covering them, they held stolen daggers and bared their teeth—perfectly capturing their savage nature.

Beastmen and goblins were the most common Demon Race types. Goblins even more so. According to the text, also called "gremlins," their strength was only on par with a five-year-old child. They lacked Divine Authority, couldn’t use magic or alchemy, but were still tricky opponents for the inexperienced.

Though weak individually, goblins bred explosively, hunted in groups, dug traps, and were ruthlessly cunning. Even Divine Princesses had been bested by them before.

The Demon Race Guidebook compiled every known type encountered in history.

Flipping through: werewolves, skeletons, cyclopes—each with countless subtypes. Beastmen had green-furred and red-furred variants; werewolves came in grey-mane and white-mane types.

At the end of the book was a type Dylin had never seen before.

"High Demon?" Dylin murmured, reading the label beneath the illustration.

The full-color painting depicted a humanoid figure with violet skin, a tall build, pale hair, and blood-red eyes. Clawed fingers, cold armor, and a curved fang-like blade completed the picture.

Compared to other demon races, the High Demon looked the most human—except for the purple skin, pointed ears, and goat-like horns sprouting from his head.

Though just a picture, the High Demon’s eyes radiated a palpable loathing for life.

Was it them who led the invasion and took Ruglian five hundred years ago?

Dylin flipped through other books, even the Apocalypse of the Demon Race—a history recording their rise and conquest—but none explained how they came into existence.

They truly seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

Back in his room, Dylin tossed his doll onto the bed and snuck into Teresa’s room on the third floor, since it was empty.

Not long after, a dignified and elegant blonde girl stepped gracefully out.

When she reached the first floor, she saw Astrid and Felicia returning from the backyard, soaked with dew and glistening with sweat.

Felicia wore tight combat gear—shorts and a crop top. Even Astrid had donned rare summerwear, her moon-silver hair tied into a high ponytail.

Both of them looked utterly spent. Astrid, still composed, was panting lightly, her skirt and backless top damp with sweat, glistening on her pale, delicate skin.

Felicia had clearly enjoyed the fight, but still seemed unsatisfied. Her shorts clung tightly to her skin, outlining a figure far beyond her age.

Wenfu handed them towels, but upon seeing their exposed bodies, her mouth curled ever so slightly downward. She glanced at herself—able to see her toes at a glance—and the sense of unease worsened.

She couldn’t compare academically. She couldn’t compete in combat. And now even her figure lagged behind by miles...

In some ways, being part of this team was tough for Wenfu. She often felt out of place.

"Had a good match, you two?" Teresa walked over and greeted them casually.

Felicia gave a simple “mm,” then avoided Teresa’s gaze.

Astrid opened her mouth to respond but paused, her cheeks flushing faintly.

A good match...

She glanced at herself—then at Felicia. Both drenched, both in revealing outfits...

The more she thought about it, the more vivid her mental imagery became. Her blush deepened. Thankfully, everyone else was distracted and didn’t notice.

Looking back, Teresa wore her usual calm smile. Wenfu and Felicia also acted like nothing was amiss. It seemed like she was the only one reading into it.

Even if no one knew what she was thinking, Astrid still felt so embarrassed she wanted to dig a hole to hide in.

Felicia now found it hard to look Teresa in the eye. Every time she saw her, she recalled that moonlit night in Ruglian, when the golden-haired girl had carried her princess-style out of the beastmen's horde—just like a fairy tale knight saving the princess from the demon king.

Even the most stoic girls had their moments of vulnerability. The more Felicia thought about it, the more she unconsciously imagined herself as the "princess." She couldn’t stop herself—it was like an addictive daydream. Even though she thought she was acting strangely.

Was it because no one in the palace had ever treated her like a girl before? Had this pent-up emotion simply overflowed?

Felicia didn’t know. But one thing was certain—her relationship with Teresa had taken on a subtle new tone.

"Teresa, I’ll be counting on you tonight."

"Mm-hmm. It’s my turn, after all." Teresa nodded with a gentle smile.

Felicia’s bloodline issue had become an unspoken truth in Clarity of Sun and Moon, so Dylin had devised a plan. To help her vent her excessive battle spirit and Divine Authority, each team member would take turns sparring with her.

This method had significantly improved her condition—though it wasn’t a permanent fix. And as time passed, her bloodline's unrest kept worsening.

At first, one sparring session a day was enough. Now she needed two—a light one in the morning, and a full-on bout in the afternoon.

Today, Teresa was on duty for the afternoon match—a no-holds-barred simulation fight.

This routine had improved the team’s combat prowess, but it had its downsides.

Felicia’s energy was overwhelming. Keeping up with her every day was exhausting—even for Astrid and Teresa.

"Don’t worry." Teresa, dressed in a school uniform and short skirt, walked up to Felicia. She stopped in front of her and leaned in close, whispering playfully, "Tonight, I’ll drain every drop of your energy, Felicia~"

Teresa walked away, but Felicia still felt her left ear tingling, a strange heat spreading through her.

It wasn’t irritation. Just an inexplicable flutter.

What’s wrong with me? Better go shower...

"Eh? Astrid-sis, your face...?"

"Hm? What about it...?"

"Your face, it's all red!" Wenfu tilted her head in confusion. Her tail twitched, and her ears perked up.

"I-I’m blushing...?"

"Yeah, look, look—you match this!" Wenfu stood on tiptoe and held a bright red apple to Astrid’s face.

"Are you sick? Do you have a fever or something?"

"N-no... I’m just tired. I’ll head back now." Astrid turned and walked off.

Elves had extremely sharp senses—including hearing. Just now, when Teresa whispered in Felicia’s ear, Astrid had heard every word.

Drain her dry... S-so sultry...

No, no! She was the only one thinking that way! Normal people wouldn’t make such associations!

She’d fallen too deep into depravity. She had to stop thinking like this!

With that thought, Astrid quickened her pace, rushed to the third floor, and locked herself in her room.

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