The night air was thick with the scent of parchment and old stone as Marcus Valen slipped through the dim corridors of the Imperial Academy's library.
The Codex pulsed faintly beneath his robes, its dark pages humming in response to the undercurrents of fate he had begun to manipulate.
He had spent the last three days tightening his net around Solan Fein, a second-year prodigy who had once served as a pawn for his future betrayer.
Through subtle nudges, whispers, and a well-placed illusion charm, Marcus had uncovered traces of an off-book sponsorship—someone powerful pulling strings behind the scenes.
But before he could follow that lead, a new complication arose.
His body still carried residual fluctuations from the void-touched magic he had unknowingly absorbed during his first major trial weeks prior.
It wasn't enough to kill him this time, but it was enough to draw attention.
The Supervision Department—the academy's arcane surveillance division—had already flagged his energy signature for irregularities.
If they dug deeper, they'd find something far more damning than a rogue magical anomaly.
Which was why he sought out Mira Nox.
He found her in the elemental chamber, flames curling like living serpents around her hands as she practiced controlled combustion.
Her crimson hair shimmered under the flickering light, and her sharp eyes barely lifted from the flame construct she was refining when he approached.
"You're blocking my view," she muttered without looking up.
"Then allow me to move." Marcus stepped aside, folding his arms.
"I need your help."
Mira finally turned to face him, brow raised.
"You? Need help? That's a sentence I never expected to hear."
"I encountered something unusual during the recent trial," he said carefully.
"A strange energy—unlike any elemental resonance I've studied. It lingered… inside me."
Her curiosity sparked instantly.
Fire mages were known for their volatile tempers, but also for their fascination with unknown energies.
She tilted her head, studying him.
"And you came to me?" she asked.
"You have access to the restricted alchemical archives," Marcus replied smoothly.
"And you're not exactly one to report anomalies to the council unless it serves your research."
Mira smirked.
"Flattery will get you everywhere."
Thus began an uneasy alliance, sealed with a promise of shared findings—and unspoken suspicions on both sides.
Later that evening, under the cover of darkness, Marcus made his way to the forbidden archives.
He wore no royal insignia, only a plain student's cloak and a hood drawn low.
The shelves towered above him like silent sentinels, filled with tomes that held knowledge long buried by the empire's decree.
He moved with purpose, guided by memory and instinct.
His fingers traced the spine of a particularly worn volume—
As he pulled it from the shelf, a shadow shifted beside him.
"Curious choice for someone not listed in the restricted registry."
Marcus didn't flinch.
He simply closed the book and turned to face the speaker—a wiry man with silver-rimmed glasses and a perpetual smirk.
"Niro Vesta," Marcus greeted, voice calm.
The librarian chuckled.
"You're cleverer than most students. But even cleverness has limits."
"I'm just trying to understand what the Council fears."
"Then understanding is worth a price." Niro handed him a folded slip of paper.
"Meet me at the top of the tower at dusk."
Marcus took it without hesitation.
A meeting offer—not a threat, not yet.
He nodded in acknowledgment and returned the book to its place.
This world had changed little from his past life.
Knowledge remained power.
And power always came with strings.
The invitation came the next day, delivered by a golden raven bearing the sigil of Augustus Glem—an elite student groomed for a seat in the Magic Council.
The message was simple: Private gathering at the Skyward Hall.
Attendance encouraged.
Marcus read between the lines.
This was not a social event—it was a test.
He arrived early, dressed plainly but impeccably.
The room buzzed with quiet conversations and veiled glances.
High-ranking students clustered together, each group a microcosm of the political factions shaping the empire's future.
At the center stood Augustus, tall, poised, and clearly accustomed to command.
Their conversation was brief but telling.
"You've been making waves, Valen," Augustus remarked, swirling wine in a crystal glass.
"I prefer to think of it as… stirring stagnant waters."
Augustus smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes.
"Then let's see how deep those currents go."
What followed was less a party and more a battlefield of words, alliances tested, loyalties hinted.
Marcus listened more than he spoke, observing the subtle tensions between the council-backed students and those aligned with independent noble houses.
One name surfaced repeatedly—Aelia Serin.
She entered late, composed, commanding attention without effort.
Their eyes met briefly across the room, and in that glance, Marcus saw caution—and something else.
Disapproval.
Later, near the balcony, he caught her alone.
"You warned Augustus about me," he stated.
"I warned him about danger wearing a charming smile," she corrected.
"You're too quiet. Too precise. And you ask questions that don't belong to a third-tier student."
Marcus offered a small, knowing smile.
"Perhaps I'm tired of being overlooked."
Aelia studied him for a moment longer, then turned away without another word.
She wouldn't be an ally—at least not yet.
But she wasn't an enemy either.
That would come later.
Back in his dormitory, the candlelight flickered against the walls as Marcus sat at his desk, the Codex open before him.
Its pages shifted subtly, reshaping entries, updating data.
His gloved fingers hovered over the newly unlocked section.
> [Memory Fragment Unlocked – Entry 3/10]
> Subject: Dusk Tower Summit
> Unlock Condition: [Unspecified]
> Function Available: History Resonance – Limited Temporal Recall
A chill ran down his spine.
This was the first time the system had granted him direct access to the past—not just memories, but events replayed in real clarity.
A tool of immense power.
But not tonight.
Tonight, he needed to rest.
Tomorrow, he would begin peeling back the layers of truth hidden beneath centuries of lies.
And somewhere, far below the academy, the ancient seal trembled once more.