The next day, the Academy was strangely noisy.

  Not the usual kind of noise—when swordsmen argue about who would beat whom, mages complain about homework, and someone loudly crunches a bun for the whole class to hear.

  Today, the noise was different.

  Nervous. Sharp.

  As if everyone was speaking a little louder than necessary, just to drown out their own thoughts.

  I had barely stepped into the classroom when I felt it.

  Students had gathered into clusters:

  swordsmen by the window,

  mages closer to the wall,

  several people standing in the center, near the teacher’s desk.

  Everyone was talking at once:

  “Is it true?”

  “That can’t be real, they’re—”

  “Did you see the paper?”

  “What about the army?”

  “They say the Dark Order has already been dispatched…”

  I moved closer, trying to understand what was going on.

  A newspaper lay on the teacher’s desk, spread almost across its entire width.

  Chewed edges, a bent corner, fingerprints—dozens of people had already read it.

  Noah, usually calm and slightly detached, stood nearby, gripping the edge of the page as if afraid it would be torn away.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  He looked at me silently and handed me the paper.

  The first thing that caught my eye was the huge black headline:

  “DEMONS HAVE CROSSED THE BORDER”

  Below it:

  “Night raid on a border village.

  No human casualties, but half the livestock destroyed.

  Experts: demons are testing the kingdom’s defenses.”

  Something inside me tightened unpleasantly.

  Demons.

  Real ones.

  Not from history textbooks.

  I looked lower, reading the text:

  “According to survivors, the attack lasted no more than ten minutes.

  The creatures were seen near the forest line.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  They did not attack people, but slaughtered nearly all the animals.

  After that, they withdrew in an organized manner back across the border.

  Mages interviewed by the editorial board believe this was not a chaotic raid, but a deliberate test of the kingdom’s response.”

  Lower still:

  “Representatives of the Dark Order, the Order of the Gryphon, and the Circle of Knowledge have been summoned to an emergency council.

  Rumors suggest the king is preparing to announce mobilization.”

  I swallowed reflexively.

  “That’s the last thing we needed…”

  “A war with them…”

  “People are too weak…”

  I said it quietly.

  Or so I thought.

  The classroom fell silent—and my words rang out far louder than I intended.

  “WEAK?!” Siren’s voice tore through the silence.

  He stood only two steps away, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. Anger and hurt burned in his eyes.

  “Not everyone is as hopeless as you,” he spat. “Don’t speak for everyone.”

  Several swordsmen immediately backed him up:

  “He’s right.”

  “We’ll see who’s weak.”

  “Demons bleed too.”

  One of the mages muttered:

  “Do they even understand who they want to fight…?”

  But no one raised their voice after that.

  Everyone turned to look at me.

  Even Elinia.

  She sat perfectly straight at her desk, hands folded on the table. But the slight tremble of her fingers told me she was tense too.

  I slowly closed the newspaper and placed it back on the desk.

  “I…” I began—and stopped.

  What could I say?

  That I’d seen demons? That I knew how dangerous they were?

  That war with them wasn’t a heroic parade, but meaningless slaughter?

  I only let out a quiet breath and sat down.

  Siren snorted and turned away, but the tension in him didn’t fade.

  The conversations flared up again—louder this time.

  Swordsmen:

  “The Dark Order will handle it!”

  “At last, a chance to prove ourselves!”

  “The main thing is that they take us…”

  One especially heated voice shouted:

  “We’ll show them that humans aren’t weak! We have swords, mages, Orders!”

  Mages:

  “Yeah. And how many people will die for that ‘honor’?”

  “Demons aren’t bandits or beasts. This is a completely different level.”

  “If they’re testing defenses, that’s already bad.”

  One mage said quietly:

  “If a real war starts, training duels will seem like a game.”

  And it was hard to argue with that.

  I sat with my forehead against the desk, feeling my thoughts scatter in all directions:

  The Forest.

  The elves.

  The kingdom.

  The demons.

  The new Orders.

  And me—in the middle of it all, a student with books and the princess’s “retainer.”

  The door swung open.

  The earth teacher entered the classroom.

  His face was calm, but there were shadows under his eyes.

  His step was steady, but slightly slower than usual.

  He saw the newspaper on the desk, saw our faces—and understood everything without a word.

  He walked to the desk, picked up the paper, skimmed the headline.

  Stood in silence for a second, then folded it in half and set it aside.

  He turned to us.

  “Sit down.”

  We were already seated, but the words worked—the noise died down.

  He swept his gaze across us—mages, swordsmen, nobles, commoners.

  “Yes, the news… is unpleasant,” he said calmly.

  “But panic right now is a gift to the enemy, whoever that enemy may be.

  The king has already convened a council.

  The Orders will be put on alert.

  The borders will be reinforced.”

  He paused.

  The swordsmen straightened slightly.

  The mages remained wary.

  Then the teacher added:

  “Your task right now is not to play heroes with words.

  It is to study.

  So that if your time comes, you step onto the field not as children with toys…

  but as mages and fighters who understand what they are doing.”

  He turned to the board and picked up the chalk.

  It snapped in his fingers from too much pressure.

  He froze for a second, exhaled, took another piece, and began to write:

  “Lesson topic: fortification structures made of earth.

  Walls. Reinforcements. Barriers.”

  The lesson began.

  But no one had forgotten the headline on the front page.

  I looked at the formulas for density and wall height,

  listened as the teacher explained how to properly distribute load,

  how to make an earthen wall resistant to wind and fire attacks.

  But the lines kept flashing before my eyes:

  “Demons have crossed the border.”

  “Testing defenses.”

  “Is war inevitable?”

  Peaceful life…

  it’s cracking.

  And the thought I had already voiced once out loud

  sounded again inside my head:

  People are too weak.

  Only this time, I didn’t repeat it.

  Not out loud.

  Not even in a whisper.