In the underground combat arena, a black-haired girl wielded a silver blade, moving swiftly. The sword's form was almost imperceptible; only the sound of repeated clashes and the fleeting arcs of silver light in the air indicated its presence.
Within moments, the ten crystalline simulacra she faced collapsed, shattering into shards and powder before slowly evaporating into the air.
"Although these Sequence 4 crystalline constructs lack agility and quick reflexes, their physical durability surpasses that of ordinary Sequence 4 transcendents. They even utilize AI for coordinated attacks... yet they were still defeated in such a short time," commented two experienced instructors standing behind a viewing wall at the other end of the arena, watching the girl who had stopped moving.
In daily life, Thilan often gave the impression of being delicate and frail, but in battle, she was decisive, with techniques that were swift and precise, devoid of any unnecessary flourishes.
"Actually, she wasn't always like this at the beginning. Her swordsmanship at the start of the semester leaned toward a more traditional style—graceful and ornate. But her learning speed is astonishing. Through continuous practice, she gradually optimized and refined her techniques, eliminating redundant movements until she achieved her current style."
"Swordsmanship is often a reflection of the user's state of mind and personality. It seems she's matured quite a bit during this time."
"In terms of swordsmanship, there’s no one left in the academy who can teach her anymore. At best, they can serve as sparring partners or exchange insights. What she needs now is real combat experience and knowledge to counter a variety of tactics and techniques."
"In real-life battles, the situations are far more complex and unpredictable. Opponents won’t play fair—there’ll be firearms, explosives, mental disruptions, ambushes, laser weapons, and so on. Without prior experience, encountering these for the first time could result in significant losses."
"Take Valk from the first year as an example. Such a pity. He could have had a bright future."
"Alright, now that her training is over, let’s go talk to her and explain the next phase of her development plan."
Shortly after, the two senior instructors stepped out of the observation room and entered the practice area to speak with the black-haired girl.
"Good evening, Thilan." Both instructors were Sequence 6 and had extensive experience from their previous missions at the agency before becoming academy instructors.
"Good evening, Professor Borg, Professor N." The girl sheathed her sword behind her back and bowed slightly.
One of the instructors, Borg, was slightly overweight with a balding head, while the other, N, appeared much more robust. Even through his coat, the sharp outlines of his muscular frame were evident.
"Your performance in today’s training was excellent. We’re truly impressed, Thilan. Your talent and rapid progress are remarkable, and I often think how fortunate the academy is to have a student like you," Borg said with a kind expression, nodding approvingly.
"However, real battlefields are far more chaotic than training grounds. We’ll teach you how to handle unexpected situations. Sometimes, retreating is a valid strategy—it’s not shameful," added N, who wore black-rimmed glasses and spoke in a calm, instructive tone.
"Understood," the girl replied with a nod.
"Originally, we hadn’t planned to introduce you to this so early, but considering recent events, we decided it would be better to discuss it now."
"Is this about Valk?" Thilan asked. She had heard bits and pieces about the situation from her classmates recently.
"Yes. He acted too recklessly that day. Although he’s undergoing treatment now, the doctors say the aftereffects might be hard to fully eliminate. Such a waste," the two instructors said regretfully.
After discussing Thilan’s future training schedule and encouraging her with a few more words, the instructors left.
…
Day by day, time passed.
One afternoon, after finishing her lessons, Thilan rested in one of the white towers on the Edess Academy grounds. It wasn’t very tall, but from the latticed windows, one could see the lake and grasslands below.
Light and shadow alternated between black and white as they fell upon Thilan. Her slender neck reflected a faint halo under the white light, creating a hazy softness at the edges. Her face, however, was cast in the gray shadows of the lattice, and her tranquil blue eyes seemed particularly striking as they gazed out at the world.
After wandering and sitting for a while, a soft chime echoed in the quiet tower.
"Professor Fernandi, is there something you need?" Thilan’s gentle voice rang out in the silence.
...
"I understand. You want me to attempt healing? I’ll prepare for it tonight."
...
"It’s no trouble. It’s an honor to assist others. The academy has helped me solve many problems in the past."
...
"Alright, see you tonight." Thilan ended the call.
After putting away her personal terminal, she looked out at the scenery one last time before turning and descending the spiraling staircase, her footsteps light as she left.
…
That night, Thilan stepped out of the underground elevator and surveyed her surroundings. She was in the critical care ward of the academy’s medical department, where the walls and floors were so clean and polished that they resembled glass mirrors.
Her attire differed from usual. Tonight, she wore a mask, with her exposed eyes shielded by amber-tinted protective goggles. Her hands were encased in long black gloves, and she donned a white medical coat typically worn by healthcare personnel, though it bore no insignia on the chest.
Exiting the elevator, two security personnel assigned to protect her flanked her front and back, guiding her to a special ward.
Tonight, no other doctors were present. Only the academy’s resident physician, Dr. Partridge, awaited her. He stood by the bedside, examining data, and only turned around when Thilan entered the room.
Without exchanging words, the two merely nodded at each other. Everything had already been discussed in advance—now, it was time to act.
Approaching the bed, Valk lay unconscious, wearing a respirator.
"He’s been anesthetized in advance. You can begin," the doctor’s voice came through her earpiece. Thilan nodded in acknowledgment.
Standing beside the patient, she closed her eyes, focusing deeply. She pinpointed the location of the damaged spinal nerve, as marked on the monitor.
After confirming the target, she opened her eyes and looked at the doctor, silently seeking his confirmation to proceed.
The doctor nodded. The ward was then completely sealed, the lights turned off, and all monitoring equipment temporarily shut down.
Shortly after, faint crystalline dust began to appear above the bed, and Thilan’s azure-blue eyes glimmered with light.
Gradually, the dust settled and disappeared, while beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
Healing wasn’t particularly difficult, but this time, the standard required near-perfect restoration. Moreover, this was a living person, not an inanimate object, significantly increasing the complexity.
Unlike herself—who was deeply familiar with her own body and could effortlessly trace its past state to restore it—working on another person was entirely different. She had to decipher the remnants of their past timeline to reconstruct the "correct" form.
Minutes ticked by as Partridge observed the girl’s silent efforts. He remained as quiet as possible, his eyes fixed intently on the critical data displayed on the screen.
To his amazement, the previously damaged nerve tissue began to regenerate—not by regrowth but through molecular restoration to its original structure.
Unconsciously, Partridge stopped taking notes, staring dumbfounded at the scene that unfolded like a reversal of time itself.
Finally, the repair was complete. The light in the room faded, and the ward returned to its dim state.
When the treatment ended, the ward’s monitoring systems resumed, and the lights turned back on, restoring everything to its usual state.
Nodding to Partridge, Thilan left the ward. The two security guards promptly escorted her back to the underground elevator.
This treatment was known only to a select few within the academy. As for the identity of this mysterious figure, only a handful knew the truth. Even Partridge was unaware of who she was, only that she had been specially appointed by the academy’s board.
"She’s probably some kind of master from an independent faction, like Golsmith the ‘Soul Reformer’ or Aiwass the ‘Blood Worm,’" Partridge mused, shaking his head to reassure himself.
But he couldn’t help but marvel at what he had just witnessed. This wasn’t merely healing—it involved the application of extremely advanced transcendent powers. Only a handful of master-level figures could wield such techniques. Despite reaching Sequence 6 in his thirties, Partridge realized how far behind he still was in the face of such mastery.
Still, he was glad the academy had sought out someone of this caliber. Otherwise, Valk would likely have been left with lifelong regrets.
Shaking off thoughts of these unattainable individuals, Partridge turned his attention back to Valk, preparing to lift the anesthesia and check his current condition.
…
A few minutes later, Valk slowly awakened, staring at the bright white ceiling. The next thing he saw was Partridge’s face.
"Professor," he murmured, his tone tinged with melancholy. Over the past few days, he had gradually come to terms with his condition and no longer maintained the carefree attitude he once had.
"Don’t rush. Lie still. Focus on your body, sense it carefully, and try to move gradually. Be cautious—don’t exert too much force."
"Understood." Though uncertain why, Valk followed the instructions.
Before long, his face lit up with joy.
"I feel better than ever! It seems there are no lingering aftereffects. Does this mean I’m completely healed?"
"Professor, did you heal me?" His voice carried a mix of hope and excitement.
"You should be healed, but the credit isn’t mine—it belongs to an unknown master," Partridge replied.
"As for their identity... I don’t know. Perhaps, if you achieve greatness in the future, you can learn more from the academy’s board."
"Be grateful, Valk. You’ve been given a second chance. Don’t act so recklessly again. Opportunities like this don’t come twice."
"I understand. Thank you, Professor Partridge." Though usually calm, Valk’s youthful exuberance showed as his joy became impossible to conceal.
"All right, no need to hold back your excitement. I understand how you feel." Partridge carefully helped Valk sit up, leaning him against the elevated bed.
"What would you like for supper tonight? Let’s celebrate your new lease on life."
…
While the two chatted about food and future plans, Thilan, having changed out of her identity-concealing attire, walked through the academy grounds under the night sky, heading back to her vine-covered residence.
Her personal terminal buzzed again. She picked it up to answer.
"Valk just underwent a second round of tests. He’s fully recovered."
"I see."
"Well... I don’t know what to say, but thank you, Thilan. The board also asked me to convey their gratitude to you."
"There’s no need to thank me. I was once saved myself, just like that night in the ruins of an underground city."
"Let’s talk another time, Professor Fernandi. I’m feeling a bit tired tonight."
"Alright, rest well. The academy will handle the rest."
After ending the call, Fernandi couldn’t help but sigh, recalling the timid girl he’d met during admissions. It was hard to believe she had grown so much.
Perhaps this was Edess Academy’s fortune. They had finally acquired a trump card capable of defeating the ace of Saint Ingo Academy.
The Verdant Veil—or rather, the Four-Leaf Crystal Star Region—was about to undergo significant changes.