It began like a tremor in the bones of the Sorcerer Academia.

A subtle vibration in the air, almost unnoticeable at first—until the wards began to shriek.

The tranquil hum of morning activity shattered into chaos as deep, resonating alarm chimes rang out across the sprawling campus.

The sound wasn’t just loud; it pressed against the mind, an intrusive warning that burrowed into the skull and rattled the nerves.

Doors slammed open, students spilled into corridors, wide-eyed and frantic, and the cold pulse of cursed energy spread through every hallway like the ripples of a storm breaking over stone.

From the tallest spire of the central tower, the principal appeared—an austere figure cloaked in layers of midnight fabric embroidered with gold wards, his gaze like sharpened steel.

Behind him, high-level teachers materialized in streaks of cursed light, each one bearing a presence heavy enough to crush lesser sorcerers to their knees.

They exchanged clipped glances, the air around them thick with restrained power and unspoken fear.

“He’s inside the barrier,” one teacher hissed, voice taut with disbelief.

“That’s impossible,” another snapped, already stringing talismans between their fingers. “Illusion, physical, and soul-defense barriers—threefold! Nobody gets in without clearance.”

“Someone just did,” the principal cut in, his voice cold enough to freeze blood. “Prepare for worst-case scenario.”

The order dropped like a stone into a pond—instantly, the waves of activity multiplied.

“Seal all student dormitories, no one in or out!”

“Deploy Sector Three guardians to the lower courtyard!”

“Activate soul purifiers—if it’s a possession type, we end it fast!”

“Get medics ready; danger level unknown!”

“Form a combat party! Level sixteen or higher only!”

The grand halls of the Academia turned into a machine of war, every gear grinding into motion at once.

Sorcerers ran past with scrolls flaring at their belts, others carrying strange weapons that hissed with cursed enchantments.

The air smelled of incense and burning paper wards, of steel being drawn from hidden compartments.

Within minutes, a combat party had assembled—six elite sorcerers flanking the principal, their bodies radiating killing intent so dense it warped the air.

They carried an array of techniques between them: one whose breath froze the very soul, one who could manifest shadows into serpents, another who wielded cursed fire hot enough to burn even through spectral armor.

Yet even with all this power gathered, unease gnawed at the edges of their focus.

“It bypassed the illusion barrier as though it didn’t exist,” one sorcerer muttered as they moved.

“And the physical one too,” another added grimly. “Not even a flicker of resistance. That means—”

“That means it’s not brute-forcing its way through,” the principal finished sharply, eyes narrowing. “It’s unrecognized by the barriers themselves. Which means it isn’t classified as an intruder.”

“…Then it could be a demonoid using advanced disguise,” a teacher guessed.

“A demonoid above danger level twenty,” another murmured, the words leaving a bad taste in their mouth.

The principal didn’t speak to confirm or deny it. He didn’t need to.

Everyone knew that within this party, only he stood at the peak of danger level twenty—and if this thing was stronger, they were all walking into a fight they might not walk back from.

Their boots pounded against the ancient stones as they made their way toward the outer gates, the building’s shadowed halls opening into the cold, sunless courtyard.

The closer they came, the heavier the atmosphere became, as though the air itself was reluctant to move forward.

And then they saw him.

A tall figure, standing with a kind of casual stillness that somehow felt more dangerous than open hostility. The hair looked dangerously violet.

He was draped in black from head to toe, his clothes simple but perfectly fitted to his frame, his presence steady yet… off, as if he were a ripple in the world’s surface.

A black headband sat low on his forehead, and at its center, right between his eyes, was a symbol—a Blackhole, rendered in perfect, endless darkness.

He didn’t move when the combat party approached. Didn’t tense. Didn’t even look like he cared they were here.

Then, with a grin that cut through the tension like a blade through silk, he lifted a hand in lazy greeting.

“Hey yaaah!”

Every sorcerer in the party stiffened instantly. Cursed energy bristled, techniques flared, and for a moment it seemed the air might explode with violence.

But the principal lifted a hand, halting them.

“…Identify yourself,” he said, his voice calm but carrying the kind of weight that brooked no disobedience.

The figure straightened slightly, and with surprising politeness, dipped his head.

“I’m Vonjo,” he said smoothly, his tone as casual as if he were introducing himself at a dinner table rather than facing a firing squad of elite curse sorcerers.

The name meant nothing to them, and that in itself was suspicious.

“What is your business here?” one teacher demanded, their voice sharp and clipped.

“Why did you breach our barriers?” another snapped. “Do you have any idea what your actions imply?”

“And how,” the principal added, “did you enter without triggering a single alarm until you were already inside?”

Vonjo tilted his head slightly, his expression entirely unbothered. “Ah, that. Well, it’s simple. I was just… following someone familiar. Saw him head in here, and thought I’d tag along.”

“That’s not an answer,” the ice-breath sorcerer growled. “You’re telling us you breached a triple-layered barrier because you felt like it?”

Vonjo spread his hands innocently. “Not exactly. You see… I noticed his curse energy vanish all of a sudden. Just—gone. Naturally, I got worried. Thought maybe someone took him. So… I followed the trail. Ended up here. That’s all.”

“You expect us to believe that?” the shadow-serpent wielder hissed.

Vonjo met their suspicion with a calm, almost amused gaze. “You don’t have to believe it. But it’s the truth. I’m not here to cause trouble.”

There was a pause, the tension in the courtyard tightening like a drawn bowstring.

And then Vonjo’s eyes flicked past them, to the towering spires and ancient arches of the Academia beyond. His expression shifted—just slightly, but enough for the principal to notice.

“…Well now,” he said softly, almost to himself. “Who would’ve thought? Something like this hidden all the way out here…”

He looked back at them with that same polite smile.

“So. This is a Sorcerer Academia, isn’t it?”

Vonjo’s eyes drifted upward, and for the first time since his arrival, a faint spark of amusement lit his expression.

Above the crowd of tense sorcerers and grim-faced faculty, faint translucent texts shimmered in his vision—bullet comments.

Familiar flickers of color and motion that only he seemed to notice, scrolling across his view like ghosts of a distant, connected world.

[DarkHuntress_99]: What’s going on?

[CursedLatte]: Danger alert?! Is the Academia under attack??

[VoidSeeker_X]: No way… this is supposed to be a relaxing arc, isn’t it? Why is there an alert?

[ArcaneChatter]: Main character flag?? Main character flag??

Vonjo’s lips twitched into a knowing grin. “Ohhh, so it’s like that… he’s here,” he muttered to himself, confirming silently what the commenters already guessed.

But the tension in the courtyard had no room for his private amusement.

One of the teachers, a towering man with a voice like cracking stone, stepped forward and leveled an accusing finger at Vonjo. “You have one chance to answer me. Who are you really? Why did you come here? How did you breach our defenses? Who sent you? Are you affiliated with the Fallen Angels? And most importantly—what is your true objective inside this Academia?”

The barrage of questions came rapid, sharp, and laced with suspicion.

Vonjo’s response was the exact opposite of the teacher’s tone—leaning back slightly, shoulders loose, his hands still buried in his coat pockets. “Mmm… let’s see. Who am I? Vonjo. Why am I here? Curiosity. How did I get in? Walked. Who sent me? No one. Am I with the Fallen Angels? Nah. My objective? To stand here, apparently.”

His lazy, almost sing-song delivery seemed to grind against the teacher’s patience like sand in a wound.

“You—!” The man’s voice rose in pitch, the edges cracking with barely contained rage. “You’re treating this as a game! Do you understand that you’ve triggered an Academia-wide alert? You’ve endangered students—”

“Relax, relax,” Vonjo said, tilting his head, his smirk deepening. “Nobody’s hurt. I didn’t even scratch the paint on your precious barriers. Well, metaphorically speaking… if your barriers were made of paint.”

The teacher’s jaw clenched so tightly it could’ve snapped. He took a step forward, but a calm, steady voice cut through the growing storm.

“That’s enough,” the principal said, raising a hand. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes sharpened as he addressed Vonjo directly. “You. Who is the individual you claim to be following? And what is your business with him?”

Vonjo’s smirk softened into something more thoughtful. “Nothing complicated. I’m just curious why he’s here. Name’s Eugene.”

At that name, murmurs rippled through the assembled teachers like wind through dry leaves.

“Eugene…?”

“That’s the first-year—danger level seven, the one with the knight-style combat…”

“Why would he be involved with this?”

One teacher turned sharply toward another. “Summon him. Now.”

The principal, however, didn’t break his focus from Vonjo. “And you—what are you to this Eugene?”

Vonjo paused for a moment, then shrugged lightly. “Acquaintance.”

More questions followed—sharp, probing, and laced with subtle traps meant to trip up liars. “How did you meet?” “Why did you track him so closely?” “What exactly did you sense when his curse energy vanished?”

Vonjo answered each one as if they were casual chat over tea.

“Met him by chance.”

“Followed him because it was suspicious.”

“What I sensed? …Nothing. That’s the point, isn’t it? You get worried when someone disappears into thin air.”

The longer he spoke, the more his tone seemed to needle the teachers—not with aggression, but with a kind of effortless disregard for their intensity, like someone watching waves crash against a rock from a safe distance.

And then—

“He’s here!” someone shouted from the far end of the courtyard.

The crowd parted as Eugene stepped through, looking mildly confused at the sight of the entire combat unit gathered. His eyes flicked from the principal to the teachers, then landed on Vonjo. His brows shot up.

“Sir Vonjo!” Eugene’s voice carried across the courtyard, filled with polite surprise.

Vonjo’s grin widened. “Kid! What are you doing here? I thought you were kidnapped or something. Your curse presence just—poof—vanished. Figured someone snatched you.”

Eugene scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ah—no, sir. I’m… actually a student here.”

Vonjo tilted his head, then started nodding slowly. “I see… I see… A student, huh? That’s… huh. Makes sense. Still, gave me a scare.” He chuckled to himself, shaking his head like a man watching a cat emerge from behind a couch after hours of searching.

[HexWeaver88]: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!!! SIR VONJO IS HERE!!???

[LoomOfFate]: Is this canon now??? Vonjo and Eugene???

[StarfallBard]: The way Vonjo just shows up at the Black Veil Academia like it’s nothing—

[CursedLatte]: He literally walked through a triple barrier like it’s his living room if he’s standing here unscathed! What a monster!

The bullet comments flooded faster now, overlapping in a blur.

The principal cleared his throat pointedly, drawing both men’s attention back to the matter at hand. “So… you two know each other?”

“Yes,” Vonjo replied simply.

“Yes,” Eugene echoed at the same time. “Sir Vonjo is… my archery teacher.”

A collective ripple of surprise passed through the faculty.

“…Your what?” one teacher muttered under their breath.

Vonjo raised a brow at Eugene, but the kid looked entirely serious. “Archery teacher, huh…?” He let out a small, awkward laugh and gave a helpless shrug. “Guess that’s one way to put it.”

Shaking his head, Vonjo turned back toward the gates. “Alright, kid. Since you’re fine and nothing’s happened to you, I’ll take my leave. Just… don’t vanish like that again. Makes me think the worst.”

“Yes, sir. Good luck,” Eugene said with a respectful nod.

Vonjo had barely taken two steps when a sharp voice cut across the air—

“Wait!”

It was the same furious teacher from earlier, his eyes blazing and his body tense like a drawn bowstring.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep