CHAPTER 22: BACK TO ACADEMY

He stepped out of the cave, letting the stale air of the goblin den fade from his lungs, and sat down against the trunk of a nearby tree. The rough bark pressed into his back as he leaned there, staring quietly at the forest before him.

The cold wind of night drifted through the trees, carrying the soothing rustle of leaves swaying high above.

Moonlight spilled through gaps in the canopy, breaking into scattered silver beams that danced on the forest floor. Despite the dangers lurking in every shadow, the forest was undeniably beautiful.

Amon sat for a while, letting his aching body rest. His arms and legs were sore, muscles burning from the fight, but there were no cuts on him.

The blood on his skin and clothes wasn’t his own—it belonged to the goblins he had killed. Still, the weight of exhaustion pressed down on him, and every breath felt heavier than the last.

"I should go now," he muttered, stretching his stiff limbs. He rose to his feet with a groan, the cold night air making his joints ache even more.

He began walking in the direction he had come from, planning to return to the academy before it got too late. But then, halfway through his steps, he froze.

A strange pressure was drifting from somewhere deep within the forest. It was cold, suffocating, and sharp—like an unseen predator’s gaze boring into his skin. It was far away, yet still powerful enough to make his instincts scream in warning.

He knew better than to approach, but curiosity tugged at him. His steps became slower, more careful, but still carried him toward the source.

The deeper he went, the stronger that dreadful pressure became. It felt like a weight on his chest, and his heartbeat quickened.

"I think I shouldn’t go there," he whispered to himself. "It must be a high-ranking monster..."

Yet, even as he said it, his feet refused to stop.

The forest grew darker, the trees thicker, and the air heavier. His curiosity gnawed at him, urging him forward despite the danger.

After several minutes of cautious movement, a new sound reached his ears—a deep, wet crunching, like something biting into hard bone.

Amon crept closer, lowering his body and moving behind the cover of a thick tree trunk. Then, as he peeked out from the side, his breath caught in his throat.

There, only a short distance away, stood a monster unlike anything he had seen before. Its body was enormous, easily as large as an elephant, but grotesquely thin in some places. It stood on two long, skinny legs that seemed too frail to support its size.

Its arms were just as long and bony, ending in claws that glinted in the moonlight.

Those claws were now buried in the corpse of a wolf-like monster, tearing it apart piece by piece. The creature’s skin was charred black, as though it had been burned and never healed, and it had no fur at all.

From its bald, twisted head sprouted two warped, spiraling horns that reached toward the sky.

Its face was horrific—a twisted snarl with a long mouth full of jagged teeth, and its huge eyes glowed crimson, each pupil a thin vertical slit like a snake’s.

Amon felt his stomach twist. His skin prickled with cold sweat, and his hands trembled slightly. This thing radiated danger so strongly it was suffocating.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him—it was the presence of a Rank Three monster.

Swallowing hard, Amon slowly stepped back, careful not to make a sound. His mind screamed at him to run, but he forced himself to move silently.

’Damn it... I shouldn’t have come here,’ he cursed in his thoughts.

’My curiosity got me into this. Thank the gods it’s more focused on its meal.’

Once he was far enough that the monster was hidden behind the trees, he finally turned and began to run. His feet pounded against the earth, his breath ragged.

"Is it my luck that monster didn’t sense me?" he muttered to himself between breaths. "A Rank Three... and it didn’t notice me even with all this blood on me? Maybe the wolf’s blood was stronger... masked my scent."

Whether that was true or not, he didn’t care. He was simply glad—no, lucky

—to be alive. Too lucky, perhaps.

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By the time he reached the back wall of Arcadia Academy, his legs felt heavy and his lungs burned. He leaned against the cold stone, huffing and gasping for air. His clothes were soaked with sweat, and the stench of blood clung to him like iron.

He didn’t even know what time it was anymore.

Dropping to all fours, he crawled into the narrow tunnel hidden behind the wall, the same one he had used to sneak out earlier. The tight, dark space forced him to move slowly until he finally emerged into the academy’s storage building.

"Ahhh... that was kinda fun," he said with a weak grin, though his eyes betrayed just how drained he truly felt.

He headed back toward the dormitory. The halls were empty, his steps echoing faintly in the silence. When he reached his room, the first thing he did was head straight to the bathroom.

He twisted the tap, letting hot water pour into the bathtub. Steam began to fill the air, washing away the cold of the night. Stripping off his bloodstained clothes, he eased himself into the water with a sigh of relief.

"This... this is the best," he murmured, closing his eyes. "A nice bath after hard work."

When he finished, he dressed in simple, casual clothes—a plain t-shirt and shorts.

Right on cue, his stomach growled loudly.

"Don’t worry, boy," he said, patting it with a smile. "We’ll eat something nice very soon."

Humming softly to himself, he left the room and made his way toward the cafeteria’s kitchen.

Somehow, even after the exhausting fight and the close brush with death, his energy seemed to return at the thought of food.

But when he opened the fridge, his hopeful expression crumbled.

"Shit... no leftovers," he muttered, shoulders slumping. "I don’t have the mood to cook anything..."

His eyes fell on the neatly stacked fruit in the fridge.

"Well... I guess I’ll just eat fruits for tonight," he sighed.

Pulling out a pile of fresh, cold fruit, he sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor and began eating without hesitation.

His hunger was too strong to care about anything else now.

The night was quiet again, save for the sound of him chewing, the memory of the forest still lingering faintly in his mind.