The chamber remained frozen after Valeheart’s arrival.Not because of authority alone—but because the man did not speak like someone defending a student.He spoke like someone correcting a fundamental mistake.“You are all looking at the wrong cause,” Valeheart said calmly.With a single motion of his hand, the air before him folded inward.Light condensed.A projection formed—not technological, but arcane. Layers of data unfurled in translucent planes, overlapping spatial readings, essence spectrums, pressure signatures, and resonance trails extracted directly from the Outer Defense logs.The room leaned in without realizing it.“This,” Valeheart said, tapping one layer with his finger, “is the bait.”The projection zoomed.What appeared was not Golden Blade energy.It was darker. Thicker. A substance-like essence that pulsed irregularly, carrying an ancient weight that pressed against perception rather than flaring outward.“This substance does not originate from Planet Arken,” Val