CHAPTER 46: PĀRIJĀTAVANA

It had already been a week since the incident.

The Academy had returned to its usual routine. Students were slowly getting used to the everyday life and classes again, though a faint sadness still remained in the air.

Most of the first-year students had managed to move on, but the absence of those who had lost their lives in the dungeon was still felt.

Currently, in Class A, Amon was sitting beside the violet-haired boy, Marcus, as usual. The classroom was filled with students, though there were still a few empty seats belonging to the unfortunate students, Since they will never come back.

Eliana and Seraphina sat in the front row. The wolf-girl Aisha was in the middle row near the window.

Arnold, as always, sat at the very back, leaning by the window with a calm expression. His posture looked as if he were the protagonist of some story.

At the front of the class, Professor Cristina was teaching history again.

Her beautiful yet strict voice resounded throughout the classroom.

"Near the eastern continent, known as Nerathis—the Abyssal Continent—there lies a huge island within the eastern sea. Don’t be fooled by the word island. Its size is no less than our Valmoria Kingdom."

Her cold, strict expression didn’t change as she continued.

"It is one of the most dangerous and mysterious places in the world. Shrouded in veil of fog, filled with ancient ruins, and home to unknown creatures with unique abilities and powers. This island was once called Pārijātavana, an ancient name. In the current era, however, it is known as The Grave of the Celestial Tree."

Amon, who was listening, narrowed his eyes.

’Pārijātavana? That sounds like a Sanskrit word... a language from my past world. Too bad I don’t know Sanskrit. Maybe it’s just similar.’

He shook off the thought and focused again on the lecture.

"There isn’t much information about this place. Surviving there is nearly impossible. Someone at the Awakened or Mana Initiate rank shouldn’t even dream of living or surviving on that island. And if that wasn’t enough, for some unknown reason, no Mythborn rank is able to enter the island either."

Students listened intently, the atmosphere in the classroom quiet and tense. Including Amon.

"For years, countless nations have fought to seize control of the island, but none succeeded. Its mysteries remain buried, untouched and unexplored."

Amon leaned forward slightly. His interest was piqued.

Cristina’s gaze swept across the classroom.

"There are stories that have been passed down for thousands of years. According to those tales, Pārijātavana was once the dwelling of celestial and divine beings. But it was destroyed by Demon King Andhaka in the Third Era."

The moment Amon heard the name, his curiosity increased.

’That guy again... seems like he really left his mark everywhere.’

"It’s said he was the one who erected the barrier around the island, preventing any Mythborn from entering. That he corrupted the celestial and divine beings, twisting them into something else entirely. But no one knows the full truth."

Professor Cristina’s words trailed off. She glanced at the clock on the wall, her eyes thoughtful.

"That’s enough for today. The lecture ends here. Hope you enjoy it."

With that, she gathered her notes and walked out of the class.

"Haah..." Amon yawned and stretched his body lazily.

Then he turned to Marcus and asked casually, "Hey bro, do you know anything about the Sanskrit language?"

Marcus looked at him with a deep frown, his expression practically screaming, What nonsense is this guy spouting now?

"What language is that? I’ve never even heard of such a name," Marcus replied, still frowning.

Amon studied his face for a moment, then nodded in understanding.

So this world doesn’t have Sanskrit... it must just be coincidence that the word sounded familiar.

He quickly changed the topic.

"What’s the next class?" he asked, despite already knowing.

"Tsk. If you don’t remember, just check it on your pager," Marcus snapped, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

Amon simply looked away, whistling innocently. He didn’t care about which class came next anyway.

Just like that, classes continued.

---

Hundreds of kilometers away from Elarith City, to the west, there was a small remote town.

The town was simple, its cobblestone streets winding between brick houses with smoking chimneys. Mana lamps glowed faintly as the sun dipped low, while horse-drawn carriages clattered past shops with wooden signs—bakeries, tailors, and apothecaries.

At the town square, a stone fountain gurgled while children laughed and townsfolk gossiped. The distant sound of a train’s whistle mingled with the ringing of temple bells.

But inside one of the narrow alleys, a different scene unfolded.

A figure in a black hooded robe walked silently, his face hidden in shadow.

At the alley’s end, where a wall blocked the path, another man stood waiting. He, too, wore a hooded robe.

The first figure stopped and spoke.

"Take this."

From beneath his cloak, he pulled out a glowing red crystal, its surface pulsing with light and brimming with mana. The aura it radiated was oppressive, almost suffocating.

The second man reached forward, lowering his hood. A scar stretched from his left eye all the way down to his chin, a deep and ugly mark.

"Will this be enough for the entire town?" he asked, his voice uneasy.

The hooded man handed over the crystal and answered coldly, "Yes. With this, killing everyone in the town won’t be a problem. But you must carry out everything in the right order, without any mistakes."

His voice was heavy, each word dripping with menace.

"One mistake, and the mission will fail. You know there won’t be a second chance."

The scarred man gulped nervously. A shiver ran down his spine.

The hooded figure’s voice grew sharper.

"You and your underlings have been at this for a long time. There are already rumors of cultists in this town. It’s only a matter of time before someone comes to investigate."

His tone was deadly.

"So be careful. I don’t want any problems."

The scarred man quickly bowed. "Y-Yes. I’ll make sure to handle it properly."

The hooded figure gave a curt nod and turned to leave. His footsteps echoed faintly in the alley until they faded away.

Left alone, the scarred man clutched the glowing red crystal tightly in his trembling hands. His breathing was heavy, fear plain in his eyes.

The silent alley way was only filled with sound of his breathing.