Chapter 239: The Moment of Doubt

Lucen hovered above the shattered battlefield.

His eyes moved across the injured students and the wreckage surrounding the academy grounds.

Then his gaze settled on Seris.

“You still have the healing potion?” he asked calmly.

Seris nodded weakly.

“Yes…”

Lucen gestured toward her.

“Drink it.”

Then he added in a slightly softer tone,

“Don’t worry. I already secured the girls’ student residence. Your sister is safe.”

Relief immediately washed across Seris’s face.

She nodded silently and quickly took the potion.

Lucen then glanced toward Ron, Jax, Selene, Maera, and Drevin.

“Seris.”

“Yes, Vice-Chairman?”

“Heal the students who came with you.”

Seris nodded again.

“I will.”

Lucen slowly lifted his gaze toward the sky.

His expression became serious.

“Aldren is still fighting.”

“I’ll help him.”

The next moment—

He vanished.

Lucen shot upward into the sky like a streak of light.

As he ascended, the temperature around him began to drop rapidly.

Frost formed along shattered walls and broken stones below.

Mist escaped his lips with each breath.

His eyes began glowing an intense blue that pierced through the stormy sky.

His hair shifted, becoming a ghostly mix of white and silver-blue.

The aura around his body pulsed with overwhelming magical pressure.

The familiar red aura he once used in combat was gone.

In its place—

A chilling bluish-white glow surrounded him.

Lucen raised a hand slightly.

“8th Circle Magic…”

“Throne of Winter.”

The sky darkened.

Cold winds began swirling violently as frost-like mana spread across the air around him.

Within seconds he reached the high battlefield above the academy.

There—

He saw Aldren Sagewell.

The old mage floated in the air, leaning slightly on his wand-cane.

Several wounds marked his body, and his breathing was heavier than usual.

Yet his sharp blue eyes remained calm.

In front of him floated two hooded warriors.

Both emanated pressure comparable to Lucen and Aldren themselves.

The air around them felt dense with power.

Aldren didn’t turn when Lucen arrived.

Instead he simply spoke.

“Finally decided to show up, huh?”

Then he asked,

“Where is the Chairman?”

Lucen answered calmly.

“He’s not here yet.”

“But he will come.”

Aldren gave a small chuckle without turning.

“Is that so…?”

“Too bad.”

“He’ll miss this.”

Lucen frowned slightly.

He didn’t quite understand what Aldren meant.

But he brushed the thought aside.

Lucen floated beside him.

“Anyway,” he said.

“Let’s fight together.”

“Just like old times.”

He looked toward the two hooded warriors.

“And show these bastards who they’re messing with.”

Aldren smiled faintly.

Still facing the enemies, he nodded.

“Yeah…”

“Absolutely.”

Lucen floated within the freezing storm of his ice and snow, frost drifting through the air like silent snow. The cold pressure spread across the sky above Astralis Arcanum, turning the battlefield into his domain.

Without taking his eyes off the enemies ahead, he spoke.

“I’ll go ahead. You take range and support me.”

Behind him, Aldren stood quietly with his wand-cane resting in one hand. He didn’t turn his face, but his calm voice answered.

“Yes. I will support you properly.”

Lucen nodded once.

Then he launched forward.

The sky cracked with a sonic burst as he accelerated toward the two hooded warriors. Ice gathered instantly along his leg as he twisted mid-air, frost crystallizing around his boot. The first attack came like a falling comet.

His kick slammed into the nearest hooded warrior.

The man raised his arms in time, blocking the strike, but the force still sent him flying backward through the sky, his body cutting through the freezing winds of Lucen’s domain.

Lucen didn’t pause.

The moment the first enemy was pushed back, he turned sharply toward the second one. His fist shot forward, wrapped in dense freezing mana, and struck the man in the chest.

The hooded warrior staggered backward in the air from the impact.

For a brief moment—

Lucen’s expression flickered.

Something felt… off.

The sensation passed quickly, and he dismissed it as the battle continued.

The fight erupted.

The first warrior rushed back into combat, corrupted mana bursting from his body as he charged straight at Lucen. Their fists collided in the air with explosive force, frost and dark energy crashing together violently.

Lucen’s movements were fast and controlled, every strike reinforced by heavy ice mana. Punches, kicks, elbows—each attack carried the freezing pressure of extreme cold, turning the surrounding air into a biting storm.

Meanwhile, not far away, Aldren was engaging the other opponent.

Unlike Lucen’s direct style, Aldren fought with measured calm. Magic circles formed quietly around him, one after another, releasing precise spells that forced his opponent constantly on the defensive. Lightning arcs, wind blades, and runic bursts struck from different angles while Aldren barely moved from his position.

It was a battle of two fronts.

Lucen driving forward with overwhelming pressure.

Aldren controlling the battlefield from range.

Lucen struck again.

His fist crashed into the guard of the warrior before him.

Ice spread across the man’s arm with a cracking sound, frost rapidly forming along the sleeve. The hooded warrior pushed back with a corrupted strike, but Lucen answered immediately with another blow, then another, forcing him backward through the frozen air.

The storm intensified around them.

For several exchanges, neither side gained a clear advantage.

Then Lucen suddenly stopped.

The enemies drifted back slightly, hovering across from him again.

Lucen lowered his hand slowly.

His face changed.

The confidence from moments before was gone, replaced by a deep, growing confusion.

His eyes shifted slightly toward Aldren.

Something was wrong.

Something about these guys…

It didn’t make sense.

Now both hooded warriors floated together in front of him.

And Lucen Merrith—Vice-Chairman of Astralis Arcanum—stood in the freezing sky, staring at them with a deeply confused expression.

Lucen floated within the frozen storm, the air around him heavy with biting cold. Frost spiraled slowly through the sky as he faced the two hooded warriors again. Both of them hovered across from him, their presence oppressive, their aura radiating the pressure of an 8-star warrior.

Yet something about it didn’t feel right.

Lucen’s eyes narrowed.

Behind him, Aldren’s voice came calmly.

“What happened?”

Lucen didn’t move for a moment. His gaze stayed fixed on the enemies.

“This is… strange.”

He slowly lifted a hand and pointed toward the hooded men.

“They…”

His voice carried confusion now.

“They are very weird.”

Lucen frowned deeply.

“They’re releasing the pressure of 8-star warriors… but their strength isn’t that.”

The cold wind howled around them.

“It feels like they’re 7-star warriors, but they are somehow emanating 8-star pressure.”

Behind him, Aldren spoke again.

“Are you sure this isn’t simply because they aren’t weak…just you are significantly stronger?”

Lucen shook his head slightly.

“I know my own strength, Aldren.”

His gaze sharpened.

“After that first kick, I’ve only been fighting with about thirty percent of my power.”

The frost around him thickened slightly.

“I’m certain something is wrong with them.”

Lucen slowly glanced sideways.

“Can’t you feel it?”

For a moment—

There was silence behind him.

Then Aldren answered.

“Yes.”

Lucen blinked slightly.

“You’re right.”

“They’re not 8-star warriors.”

Lucen immediately turned around.

“What—?”

His voice stopped.

Because what he saw made his expression freeze.

Aldren Sagewell stood behind him.

And he was smiling.

Not the calm, gentle smile Lucen had known for years.

But something else.

Something cold.

Something sinister.

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