The questions kept pouring in from the security council. It was a group of five middle aged men with a stern look on their faces.
The questions ranged from:
"What were you doing when this happened" to "Are you CERTAIN that you didn't see ANYTHING or ANYONE that might have done this?"
It was tedious to explain that I didn't experience any of it, by the time I was there it was like that… I wish I was… To die by their side if nothing else…
I hated it that I let more of my people die. It doesn't matter whether I knew them for a minute or an hour. They trusted their backs and I failed them.
'I'll send the thing that did this to you to hell myself, just wait and I'll make them suffer'
…
After two gruesome hours it was finally over.
After they had asked all they had to ask and were certain they couldn't get any more information from me I was finally let go.
'Lets begin with first things first, Corviel Thanus'
I couldn't find the thing that did that to my teammates, but I could start with the one who should hold clues to Valen- my past self.
After gaining what seems a majority of Valen's Memories, I can't say I'm Caelum or Valen anymore.
I'm both.
I'm either.
The pain, the joy and the sadness.
I know what both have feeled.
Hence, I am both.
…
Finding him wasn't hard.
His dormitory was located in the Silver Ring, a tower reserved for elite scholars and nobles with distinguished bloodlines.
Corviel's family, the Thanus bloodline, were heirs of some ancient pact with the Silent Courts of the North—dark historians, master illusionists, and keepers of forbidden contracts.
…
His chamber was on the 9th floor.
Reaching it was hard.
People of the Thanus family guarded him all the time. Although no one outside from students were allowed in the academy the Thanus family enrolled many of their finest young members to guard their heir, Corviel Thanus.
It was a perfect plan, except their happened to be one anomaly.
Me!
The marble tiles cracked beneath my feet as I ascended the spiral stairs, every step a drumbeat echoing into the panicked silence of the tower.
Another pair of guards emerged at the landing ahead, armored and enchanted—House Thanus elites. One of them raised his staff, lips forming a chant.
Too slow.
"Pulse Flare."
A searing burst of compressed fire detonated from my palm, a glowing sphere surging forward. The explosion sent both guards flying—one smashing into a support pillar, the other tumbling down the stairs. Not fatal. Just enough to end the fight.
Health: 132/200. Mana: 591/900.
Sustainably brutal.
The floor trembled above. I could feel it—mana gathering. A ritual seal. Defensive locking.
"Good," I muttered. "Make this worth it."
I reached into the stream of my breath. Focused.
〔Focus Breathing: Active〕
Mana turbulence faded into rhythm. My perception sharpened. I took the next steps faster, smoother—falling into the dance of my own body's momentum.
Another mage blocked my path, this one levitating mid-air, eyes glazed in ritual trance.
"Elementalist?" she barked. "You shouldn't be here."
"Flare Bolt."
She deflected it—barely. Her shield flared with runes.
"Mana Needle."
The second cast came not from my hand, but from the air behind her—thanks to Dual Cast.
The needle struck true, slicing through her left thigh. She dropped to one knee.
I moved past her.
Behind me, she collapsed with a groan. I left her conscious.
Just below the final floor now. A defensive barrier pulsed over the stairway—woven complexly.
I narrowed my eyes.
Mana Flow Analysis: Active.
The threads came into view. The pattern was flawed—rushed.
I whispered under my breath and raised a hand.
"Barrier Weave: Invert."
It was a gamble. Defensive magic reversed is notoriously unstable.
But the barrier flickered—then shattered.
I stepped through into the highest chamber of the tower.
There he was.
Corviel Thanus. Dressed in ceremonial robes, holding a crystal filled with memory runes.
His face paled as he turned.
"Arthur Valen—no, Caelum. What do you think you're doing?"
I looked at him and smiled.
"Reclaiming a life you helped destroy."
Without any more talk, I pounced at him.
I'd known people like him—too polished, too rehearsed. They didn't talk unless forced to. And I wasn't here for a conversation.
My foot slammed into the ground—
"Windstep."
The spell triggered mid-lunge, twisting the wind into a burst beneath my heel. I vanished from view for half a second and reappeared directly in front of him, fist already flying.
Corviel's eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
Combat Insight flared in my vision—he was raising a ward, slow and inefficient.
Too late.
My punch connected squarely with his ribs, augmented by my mana flow and movement. I heard something crack. The impact flung him backward into a row of bookshelves. Wood splintered, tomes cascaded like falling debris.
He tried to rise.
I didn't let him.
"Flare Bolt."
The red-gold light ignited from my palm and slammed into his shoulder, pinning him to the broken shelf with a shout of agony. The fire singed his robe, branding the sigil of House Thanus with ash.
"Where is the mask?" I demanded—not with words, but through the weight of another advancing step.
He coughed, lips trembling. I didn't give him the space to gather mana. My hands were already weaving.
"Mana Needle."
This time, I aimed low—into his thigh muscle. Precision-strike, cleanly avoiding arteries. He screamed, body jerking.
"Start talking," I said. "Or I'll start carving the truth out of your bones."
The system pulsed faintly in my mind—no alerts, no interference. It knew this was necessary.
"I—I don't know what you're talking about!" Corviel stammered, pain and fear bleeding into every syllable.
I moved forward again, hand raised.
"You will."
Because unlike him…
I didn't need permission to take back what was stolen.
…
His mouth opened to protest again.
I didn't give him the chance.
"Pulse Flare."
The condensed fire spell ignited at point-blank—just above his other shoulder. Not enough to kill. Just enough to let him feel the weight of my intent. The explosion tore into the wood behind him, the shockwave sending cracks up the wall.
"You felt that," I said quietly. "Now imagine it in your lungs."
Corviel writhed, trying to press his back harder into the already broken shelf as if it could save him. His mana tried to stir again, a bubbling trace of defensive runes forming under his skin.
"Mana Needle."
"Mana Needle."
"Mana Needle."
Three clean jabs—shoulder, wrist, clavicle. Each one shutting down the flow of a forming glyph. He shrieked, blood spurting lightly from the last hit.
"I—I didn't set you up!" he gasped. "I wasn't the one who made the mask!"
"But you know who did," I said, crouching. My voice was calm now, colder than fire. "The masked figure. The one who laced the tower with tracing sigils. The one who tampered with the Trial Rite. You're going to give me his name."
He tried to look away.
Combat Insight flared—muscle tension in his neck. A spell prepared on his tongue.
I moved faster than thought. My hand gripped his jaw, squeezing it open.
"Barrier Weave."
I formed it right over his mouth—a thin net of translucent mana sealing his jaw shut, cutting off the incantation.
"I'm not your classmates, Corviel. I'm not scared of your title, your House, or your bloodline. I don't care who your father pays."
He whimpered against the seal, eyes rolling back.
Then he broke.
"Malthus!" he screamed, spittle and tears mixing with ash. "The mask was made by Malthus—of the Inner Archives! He's the one who made it! He said it was to keep the experiment stable!"
"Experiment?" I asked.
"I don't know—I swear, I don't know more than that! They said your soul wasn't… compatible! He tampered with the test! That's all I heard!"
Compatible?
With what?
I stood, watching him collapse into sobs.
The room smelled of fire, blood, and cowardice.
So it wasn't over.
Because this wasn't just about me anymore.
This was war.
To Be Continued…