Burke Rosenfield.

The person that would be called ''The Mad Empress'' and a major villain of the novel. 

And someone who shouldn't be here.

First things first, why on earth was her name being mentioned so early? 

Wasn't she supposed to make her appearance only after the emergence of the Dragon Emperor's heir, during the second-year-arc of the Academy?

Furthermore, considering the vast geographical distance between the United States and the kingdom where the Academy resided, it seemed impossible for them to be connected. 

The States didn't possess any means of transportation that could whisk them away to this kingdom. 

And let's not forget, after a series of tumultuous events, the United States had retreated into a reclusive state, isolating itself from the rest of the world.

As one of the last countries of the ''ancient times'', its representatives and population were reluctant to interact with the new communities.

The advent of the day remarked as ''Ground Zero'' had changed everything. 

The United States was nowhere near the great-power it once was - hundreds of years ago. 

It was a miracle that, unlike most ancient countries like England, and my own country Italy, the United States still managed to live; even if it crawled miserably.

These were some of the reasons why Burke had taken longer to join Discipline in the novel. 

However, she wasn't the only American attending the place. 

She was the most prominent one, being considered one of the greatest ''hopes'' of the now-decadent country.

So, how on earth was she already here? And how had her American colleagues arrived here as well?

If memory served me right, the economy of the United States, along with that of other struggling countries from the ''ancient times'', should be crumbling. 

They lacked the presence of powerful individuals known as ''Beyonders'' who could handle the massive dungeons within their territories.

Industries were collapsing, homes were crumbling, and the once revered government teetered on the edge of an imminent revolution led by its own people.

The state of the United States' infrastructure, the birthplace of that girl, could only be described as ''a complete mess''.

I hadn't tampered with the plot in the slightest, yet I couldn't help but wonder if my inconspicuous presence had somehow contributed to the strangeness of it all. 

Perhaps, but that would open a Pandora's box of possibilities. It seemed plausible, yet unconfirmed.

Ultimately, the answer eluded me.

Anyway, about Burke...

Her appearance was as ordinary as any American character crafted by a non-American writer. 

I could not deny: there was an undeniable allure to her beauty. 

Her cascading blond locks, tinged with hints of orange, perfectly complemented her jet-black painted nails. She possessed an unconventional aesthetic that harkened back to the "emo" era, accentuating her piercing blue eyes.

And to put it plainly and bluntly regarding her nature: she was a threat. A very serious one.

It was worth noting that she wasn't like Fryz - in fact, Burke herself was the primary reason, following Fryz's humiliating defeats against her "rivals," that the girl succumbed to the dark side and became a global menace.

I yearned to confront her without delay, yet such a desire proved futile. I had to be cautious. Prudence dictated my next moves.

And why was caution necessary? She was no ordinary being, but a demon. A creature from another dimension,just like the wolf. 

To be more precise, she was a actually an "incarnation".

Basically, a vessel for a powerful demon to possess and masquerade itself among humans.

Burke, the girl bearing the name, held the true consciousness within her, steering the body's actions. 

Nevertheless, she dutifully served the whims of those who had bestowed upon her otherworldly powers.

The name of the demon with whom she had made the contract remained uncertain; David had left that open-ended, which complicated matters to me.

I would like to go after some specialist, but it would be impossible for me. Aside from raising suspicion, I didn't have enough information for it to get anywhere really drastic.

For now, I wanted to believe she posed no danger.

Ultimately, she was a valuable tool in the hands of our adversaries. Adversaries who had yet to reveal themselves, lurking in the shadows, patiently awaiting the opportune moment.

Should she unleash any of the blessings granted by the demons, not even Killian could overcome her. 

At least, not the current Killian. 

For the time being, I could deduce that she wouldn't do that. 

Given the fact that she had been bested by the boy, it was clear that Burke intended to delve deeper into the roots of the Academy.

Nevertheless, if I wished to survive in this place, I couldn't allow that to happen. 

And I had an idea of how to prevent it.

"With this in mind," I spoke, lying face down on the bed, "I believe it's time to arm myself." And pulled the blanket over me, aware of what needed to be done.

*****

The next day, after the classes, I went ahead and visited the academy's weapons warehouse, then met new people.

It may sound peculiar, but in a world brimming with magic and potent artifacts, my visit to the weapons warehouse without any acquisition points turned out to be the less eventful of the two experiences.

The walk itself was a pleasant one. 

The architectural design of the houses, segregated from the rest of the Academy's facilities in separate dormitories, left much to be desired. 

Certainly, David's initial concepts were partially to blame for this.

Here, everything operated within the confines of what he had once penned and deemed right.

''Are you going to get a better bow?''

''My sword is in a bad state. I want to know if they can supply me with better quality...''

The warehouse stood as a popular spot, situated at a considerable distance from the dormitory and adjacent to one of the designated battlegrounds for official duels. 

As I approached, I noticed a gathering of around a dozen individuals patiently queuing in line.

''Hmm...? Who is that?''

I could recognize that authoritative tone anywhere.

Fryz Madrigal and a few of her faithful minions glanced my way. Not wanting to get in unnecessary trouble, I looked away. They laughed.

That girl seemed to be everywhere I went. Was that somekind of a curse inflicted upon me?

''Next in line! Come forth!''

After what felt like an eternity, it was finally my turn.

The line behind me continued to grow, while the afternoon sky began to take on its characteristic yellow-orange hue.

''Here, ma'am.''

I put my hand in my pocket and handed over the necessary documents. 

I had asked Madame Seucon, and she instructed me what to do. 

It was kind of a bureaucratic process; nothing so different from issuing documentation from my past world.

The person in front picked them up, reached across the table for a handheld scanner, connected it to what looked like a computer, and pushed it towards me. 

I held out my hand, palm down, and waited for the scan to finish. 

She pulled out the device and slid my ID into it to match the fingerprint.

Finally, she looked surprised.

''Regulus Frontera. That's unexpected. You around here?'' the brunette woman seated at the entrance of the warehouse called out. "Well," she said, giving my student card a suspicious glance. "What do you want?"

Without uttering a word, I handed her a small piece of paper. 

I had a singular desire, and I had no intention of drawing attention to myself.

"A pistol?" Philomena Keeats, the combat instructor, looked taken aback by my request. ''Are you serious, right now?''

"Yes," I replied. "I want a pistol. Is it possible?"

She glared at me.

''Yes. Yes, it is possible.''

It was a tad mortifying, if I may use the right term, to engage in a debate with a superior who harbored bad opinions about my abilities. 

Back in the army, I had dealt with similar situations.

Some of the higher-ranking officers never took a liking to me, but I had no choice but to endure it.

Here it was no different.

''Let me consult the system. I'll give you the definitive answer in a second.''

''No problem. Take your time.''

Throughout my entire life, I had never felt such anticipation to acquire a new firearm and indulge in the symphony of gunfire, finding it almost entertaining.

This week had been nothing short of a peculiar revelation.

I had hoped to distance myself from the burdensome responsibility of being a mage, attempting everything within my power to break free from that role. 

But alas, my efforts proved futile. 

The other "classes" available for Cadets were just as problematic. 

In the end, after enduring the few explanations I had the patience to listen to, they all required mana.

Thus, I remained a mage. At least, I had managed to procure an item to defend myself: a pistol.

And if fortune favored me, I had a particular idea in mind, facilitated by the System, that would enable me to become a "mage" in my own unique way, even if it meant bending the rules.

"We do have some pistols available in stock. They're all of the same model. The bullets are designed to incapacitate rather than cause fatal harm to your fellow cadets and comrades. The issue is that none of them have undergone recent verification," she explained.

I arched an eyebrow. "And what does that entail?"

"It means you won't be able to acquire a pistol immediately," she stated matter-of-factly. "I'll need to conduct tests and ensure it meets the necessary standards for practical use. It would be unsafe to provide it to an inexperienced cadet. Do you understand?"

I nodded in agreement.

"I just want to make it clear that I'm not inexperienced," I commented. With a shrug, I added, "I used to hunt animals on my family's land with my father. It was a form of combat training. He wanted me to learn how to defend myself."

"Lies won't get you anywhere, boy," she retorted.

"I'm not lying."

A brief silence hung in the air. It seemed wherever I went, people were either annoyed or uncomfortable around me. 

Was it my demeanor?

The computer beeped as a new notification arrived.

She sighed. "You really are Regulus Frontera," she said, placing a hand under her chin.

''And now we're back to the beginning,'' I said.

She ignored me again.

"Alright, I've registered your name and submitted the request to the management. You'll be able to collect your pistol soon," she said, typing away on her computer. "I'll hand it over before the 'Dungeon Exploration' and 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' classes begin," she placed her keyboard down and focused her attention on me. "Later, I'll send some documents to your email. Please review them and bring the printed copies when you come to collect the weapon."

"I understand,'' I replied.

She flipped her pink-hair back and retrieved a sheet of paper and a pen, handing them to me.

The paper contained several paragraphs, each with a space for a signature below. 

It reminded me of the scenes in the novel where characters would change and request weapons. That would happen to Killian, soon.

"Take these to your room and read them carefully. Pay attention to the details. It could have a significant impact on your future here," she advised.

"I understand," I replied once again.

The woman noticed that I didn't give a damn about her lines. She gave me a blank look, and I returned it with equal intensity.

"Anyway, you're dismissed," she raised her hand. "Next in line, please step forward!"

Turning away, fully comprehending the situation, I carefully folded the papers and placed them in my pocket. 

Finally, a small smile crept onto my face that day.

After a week of hellish experiences, things were about to improve.

*****

"Find out what that idiot came here for," was the order Fryz had given to her newest follower: 

Deefis, codename "Rodent."

"This way," Deefis stammered.

He was almost tripping over his own feet as he navigated the Academy's long, ornate corridors, hot on the trail of the boy with the green eyes. 

"I can't let him out of my sight! It's my only chance!"

Deefis Grant was small, resembling a mouse that could easily fit in the palm of one's hand. With a slightly hunched back, protruding buck teeth, and perpetually watery eyes, he was often the subject of jokes within the group. 

That was why, in a desperate attempt to prove his worth, he had joined Fryz's clique.

However, now, he was already starting to regret it.

Considering the pros and cons, it hadn't been a good choice. He knew it.

"That woman," the boy sighed, shaking his head. "She's absolutely bonkers," and concluded.

Of course, he couldn't utter those thoughts in front of Fryz. 

He hadn't completely lost his sanity just yet. 

Besides being a coward, he knew that speaking out would only lead to his demise. 

Wasn't that one of the reasons why he had agreed to obey her orders without question?

From cleaning Fryz's room to serving tea at the followers' gathering and even completing homework for other classmates, Deefis had become nothing more than an errand boy. 

Nonetheless, he had moved on from that.

Somehow, things were starting to look up. His "missions" were becoming more significant, gradually elevating him from being deemed "useless" to being an '''accessory''. 

It may not have been much, but he could sense progress.

"So I can't give up now."

His latest mission was to follow and spy on Regulus Frontera. 

The reason? 

Fryz Madrigal had attached herself to the boy as if he were a new appendage after the professor had made him the laughingstock of the 2-A, first-year class.

It was an unspoken rule in Room 2-A, one that even someone as excluded as him knew: no one should speak up for Fryz. 

And so, silence prevailed. 

Technically, Regulus hadn't answered out of choice, but out of necessity—and just to clarify, the boy hadn't truly responded.

"Turn right... Turn right..." Deefis repeated like a whispered incantation, trailing at a safe distance.

Yet, his thoughts remained uninterrupted.

Deefis couldn't comprehend it, but he wanted to. 

It made no sense that Fryz harbored such animosity towards Regulus. After all, the boy had one of the lowest rankings in the entire academy.

947th out of 960 positions.

He wondered what Regulus had done to earn Fryz's wrath.

And he definitely didn't want that to happen to himself. 

"E-eek!"

Suddenly, he found himself at a standstill in the middle of the hallway. 

Unconsciously, he had positioned himself directly in the path, with no one else around besides him and Regulus. 

He couldn't afford to be noticed, yet there was no one he could blend in with.

So, with careful and hasty steps, his small and slightly swollen legs carrying him, Deefis sought refuge behind a towering marble pillar.

"What is he up to?" he whispered to himself, curiosity piqued. Regulus had come to a halt in the middle of the corridor. 

"Wait... What...?"

Although his view was partially obstructed from his hiding spot, Deefis could have sworn he caught a glimmer of golden light in Regulus' eyes.

It was mesmerizingly beautiful. For a brief moment, he found himself enchanted.

Quickly snapping out of his daze, he focused his senses and subtly infused his ears with mana.

That allowed him to pick up on the faint murmurs of his "target."

"Convocation?" Regulus's voice reverberated. ''What is it now, Auxilium?''

He was clearly talking to himself.

Maybe... had Regulus gone crazy...? Deefis pondered that. 

Perhaps the stress of those last 3 days had been too much for the already lonely boy.

Deefis wished he could feel sorry for the boy with the green eyes. But he didn't have time for that. 

A shocking scene unfolded before him. Something no one in the entire Academy would believe.

A massive holographic screen materialized in front of Regulus, displaying inscriptions in an unknown language. 

Deefis strained his eyes, trying to comprehend the cryptic symbols.

Tsssk~

In an instant, an array of magic circles materialized out of thin air, swirling in intricate patterns around Regulus. 

Yet, the boy remained eerily still, seemingly unaffected by the imminent danger.

[You have been summoned!]

[Remaining time for summoning: 00 days. 00 hours. 00 minutes.. 02 seconds.]

"D-dark m-magic?!" Deefis announced, his mind racing to grasp the gravity of the situation.

Then, as if vanishing into thin air, the circles dissipated without a trace. The holographic screen shattered, dissolving into a flurry of sparkling dust that scattered into the sky. 

Deefis landed on his ass. His hands, stretched out instinctively, stopped the impact.

And with the blink of an eye, in the night illuminated by the silver beams of the moon, which rose in the starry sky, Regulus Frontera, his "target," was also gone.