The gate at the top of the dungeon's final layer pulsed with golden light as Arthur and the others stepped through. A moment later, they reappeared on the teleportation platform outside the dungeon—battered, exhausted, and forever changed.
They didn't speak much. The six-hour ordeal had drained them all, physically and emotionally.
Minutes later, they boarded the academy's high-speed mana train, which would take them back to the World of Tanks Combined Dormitory, a residential complex specifically built to house first-year elites from across the world's most powerful factions. The ride was quiet. Each student was lost in their own thoughts—processing trauma, strength, fear, and growth.
When the train hissed to a stop at the dorm station, they disembarked one by one, each heading for their own rooms in the grand, tiered dormitory built like a fortress.
Arthur reached his room and didn't waste a second. He immediately called his trusted aide.
"Drake."
"Hello, Young Master," came the respectful reply.
"I've acquired it," Arthur said quietly.
Drake went silent for a moment, then erupted in joy.
"You… You got it?! I'll come immediately! I'll retrieve it from you right away!"
Arthur shook his head.
"No need. Tomorrow, I'll transfer it using Star Delivery. Seven-star protection."
Drake's voice dropped.
"That'll cost a fortune."
"I can afford it. And when you receive it—drink one sip. Then give a second to Rein."
"Understood, Young Master. Thank you."
Arthur's voice turned cold and serious.
"Don't open it. Don't examine it. Just take it to my father. Let him be the one to break the seal. I'll apply the lock he gave me—Rank 9 can't even crack it."
"Got it. I won't fail you."
Arthur ended the call and wasted no time. He connected with Star Delivery.
"Hello. I want seven-star service."
A crisp, professional voice answered.
"Seven-star delivery requires 100 million gold crowns. Fifty percent upfront. Are you certain, dear customer?"
"I am."
"Please provide your pickup address."
"World of Tanks Combined Dormitory, first-year block."
"Thank you. Please wait outside your dormitory. A delivery agent will arrive shortly."
Arthur placed the Divine Essence into a sealed black box and applied the runic lock created by his father—a protection seal reinforced by divine runes. Then, stepping out into the cold night air, he stood silently outside the dorm.
An hour passed.
Then the sky lit up.
A massive dragon descended, shimmering with sapphire scales. Atop it rode a tall man with flowing blue hair, his uniform embroidered with seven golden basket emblems—a Rank 7 warrior. Even his boots gleamed with embedded stardust crystal.
Star Delivery didn't mess around.
The dragon bowed slightly.
"Apologies for the delay. We needed clearance from the Dragon Emperor himself."
Arthur handed over the black box.
"The payment is already stored in this ring. Full amount."
The delivery agent accepted both the box and the payment ring, giving a respectful nod.
"Destination: Valerian County, yes? We'll arrive within 12 hours. I'll make multiple space jumps to compensate for the delay."
"Good."
The dragon-man secured the box inside his space ring and launched back into the sky without another word.
Arthur watched him disappear into the clouds.
"Soon… Rein will wake up."
He turned back into the dorm, too exhausted to care about anything else. Collapsing on his bed, his last thought was a grumble:
"Basic mana theory test tomorrow... great."
Sleep claimed him in seconds.
Meanwhile — Somewhere in the Skies Above the Continent
Back in the imperial capital of Eldrion, a private communication line blinked to life. Two figures, revered and feared across the world, were deep in conversation.
Maxxarion rubbed his temples. "Do you realize what that boy just did, Solan? He's shifted the world's balance."
Solan reclined in his seat, unbothered. "I gave him the location. The Divine Essence wasn't just sitting there by accident."
Maxxarion growled, "You mean to tell me you unlocked one of the Second Emperor's vaults for a teenager?"
"I had no choice. I received a signal."
Maxxarion's eyes narrowed. "Don't say it. You think it was him?"
Solan's voice dropped. "Some names must not be spoken. But yes. That signal was older than any magic I've felt since the Ascension."
"Damn it." Maxxarion slammed his fist on the table. "Humans now have six Divine Core holders. Two more will awaken soon. Do you understand what this means?"
Solan nodded. "The tide is turning. The Upper Realm is moving, Maxxarion. My own son is caught in the threads of their schemes. The Dark Order is on the rise. And your academy… it's likely their next target."
Maxxarion's voice dropped to a low, dangerous growl. "Then they'll find more than they bargained for."
Solan's tone remained calm, but firm. "You're already preparing to take that vampire boy, Feldine, into one of the old dungeons, aren't you?"
Maxxarion didn't deny it. "He carries the blood of the Progenitor. If anyone is worthy of what lies inside, it's him."
Solan smirked faintly. "The future Vampire King. His destiny will be heavy. Let's see if he can carry it."
The line went silent for a beat before Solan added, "And don't think your races are clean. I know the Dragons, Beastkin, and Demons have been hiding their Divine Core bearers. I see everything in this world."
Maxxarion grunted. "So what now, Santa Claus?"
Solan smirked. "Now, my adorable lizard, we set the bait. We let them move, and then we crush them."
Maxxarion snapped, "Call me that again and I'll burn your beard off."
"Try it," Solan chuckled. "Last time you tried, you ended up buried headfirst in snow for a week."
And so, the two strongest beings in the world — one the Emperor of Man, the other the Dragon Lord — bickered like children, unaware or perhaps uncaring that the choices they made now would shape the fate of the world.