The next day, Morgan woke up in the White Griffin's Intensive Care Unit (ICU). She blinked against the bright overhead lights, her body still sore from the events that had unfolded. In the bed next to hers lay Arthur, unconscious but alive, his chest rising and falling steadily.
As Morgan stirred, voices from outside her room reached her ears. The headmaster was speaking with her parents. Pushing herself upright, she turned toward the doorway and saw them standing just beyond it. With them were Friya, Phloria, and Quilla.
Two figures caught her attention immediately. One was a man in his mid-40s, standing over 1.96 meters (6'5") tall. He had short black hair, sharp brown eyes, and a commanding presence.
Dressed in the uniform of the Knight Guard, the mark of a 2-star General was proudly displayed above his heart. The name Brago was embroidered there in bold letters.
Next to him stood a petite woman, barely 5 feet tall, exuding grace and authority. Her perfectly curled blonde hair fell midway down her back, and her sapphire blue eyes shone with intensity. Her royal attire was marked with the name Jirni above her heart.
Behind the Ernas family, Apollo, Elina, Rena, and Tista began to stir. As they spotted Morgan sitting up, they hurried over to her bedside.
"How long before he wakes up?" Rena asked, her voice trembling as she glanced at Arthur.
Morgan hesitated, her face pale. "I don't know," she admitted softly. "He used the spell 'Overlock.'"
At her words, Tista sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face. Elina quickly knelt beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "What is 'Overlock'?" Elina asked, her tone both curious and afraid.
Morgan looked down, her voice breaking as she replied, "It's a spell tied to one of our 'Death Or Alive' techniques."
"What does that mean?" Apollo asked, concerned about deepening the lines on his face.
Tista wiped her tears, trying to steady herself. "It means… whatever they fought for, they were ready to die—or kill each other—for it."
A heavy silence fell over the room as the weight of her words sank in. One by one, the family began to cry. Seeing their grief, Friya, Phloria, and Quilla also knelt, overcome with emotion.
A short while later, the door opened, and Yurial entered with two new figures.
The first was Sylpha, a woman with sharp features and a square jaw. She was of average stature, her slender frame giving her an air of elegance. Despite being over fifty years old, she looked no older than thirty. Her long black hair, streaked with six distinct colors that marked her as blessed by all the gods of magic, was styled in an intricate chignon.
Beside her was Meron, a lean man in his mid-fifties, though his youthful appearance defied his years. His thick red hair and piercing silver eyes, characteristic of Valeron's descendants, added to his striking presence. He wore a golden crown atop his head and a crimson uniform, signifying his role as the Commander-in-Chief of the army.
As the group entered, Vastor stepped forward to speak, his calm voice explaining the events that had led to this moment.
Phloria, her voice trembling, turned to Morgan. "What can we do to help?"
Morgan took a deep breath before replying, "He just needs rest. It could take a few days… or a few weeks. It depends on how fast he recovers."
Phloria looked at her father, Brago, determination burning in her eyes. "Dad," she said firmly, "can they start with us?"
Brago nodded solemnly, his expression unreadable but resolute.