Friday – Morning
Lucian woke up on the floor, facedown, wrapped in a warm robe.
Judging by the dull ache in his shoulder, he probably slipped off the desk sometime during the night. His notes were scattered everywhere—open scrolls, ink-stained runes, half-sketched glyphs.
Nerida was gone.
Instead, a small note sat on the table beside a plate with two neatly cut slices of cake.
"Went out. Lock the door when you leave. The cake is yours, do not eat the icing if you value your eyebrows. — N."
Lucian stared at it. Then at the cake.
He blinked, smiled faintly. "...She's terrifying in every possible way."
He grabbed a bite, then reached for a pen and scrawled his own reply on the back of her note:
"Appreciated. No eyebrow casualties yet. Probably won't set your room on fire. Probably. — L."
He left it on the desk, then slowly made his way to the window. The sun was already slanting over the towers of the academy. The Flame Festival was still alive below—ribbons and streamers dancing between buildings, music echoing from courtyards.
Lucian exhaled. He had a dungeon run to prepare for.
And unfortunately…
A debt to plan for.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Outside – Noon
The sun leaned low over the academy towers, casting long shadows across polished floors and rune-lit walls. Flame Festival banners fluttered in the warm wind, scattering petals and confetti across the stone paths.
Lucian stood before the towering archway of the Administrative Building, arms folded, mind racing with a single, increasingly desperate thought:
Who the hell am I borrowing money from?
He considered the options. Friends? None rich enough. The Broker? Risky. Nerida?
He winced.
She would d loan it... then charge interest in humiliation.
"…Yeah, no."
Then he smirked.
"Why not the Headmaster?"
Ellie's old tutor. His "grand-tutor" by proxy. That was justification enough.
Administration Hall
Chaos. Predictably.
Floating papers zipped overhead, enchanted by stressed clerks. Arcane crystals blinked and chimed warnings. A staff member screamed about a misplaced phoenix egg. A fire spirit floated down the hall holding a tray of tea like a disapproving butler.
Lucian strolled through it all, unfazed.
He nodded to passing staff like he belonged there—until:
"Administrator May!"
She turned—then immediately walked the other direction, coat billowing like a cape.
Lucian blinked.
"…She definitely saw me."
Shrugging, he continued up the spiral stairs to the topmost floor. Two armored guards stepped aside silently, opening the rune-inscribed doors to—
The Headmaster's Office
Lucian stepped inside.
And froze.
Someone else was already there.
A girl stood before the Headmaster's desk, her back to him. She was talking casually to him too, holding a box of cake. Standard uniform—but nothing else about her was standard.
Short blonde hair. Pale skin like moonstone. And an aura—dense. Coiled. Watching.
Lucian's trait, Arcane Attunement reacted before he could think.
He straightened, fingers twitching. Instinct.
Then—
"That's not very nice," she said, still facing away.
Lucian blinked, his connection to his trait severing. "...Huh?"
She turned slowly. Eyes closed. Lips curled in a polite, unreadable smile.
"I mean your analysis spell or whatever that was. Rude to use it on people without permission."
Lucian opened his mouth—then closed it.
She stepped forward, hands clasped behind her like a temple acolyte.
"I'm Aerin. Class 1–S. Nice to meet you... Lucian Valemire."
His brow creased. "How do you—"
"The winds are chatty."
She turned to the Headmaster and bowed lightly.
"I'll make sure your daughter gets the cake. See yaaa."
She walked past Lucian like mist—no threat, no force—but something about her made his skin itch.
"Oh, and... I'll prep that ointment for your arm after the dungeon."
"Wha—?"
The door clicked shut.
Lucian stood frozen.
"…What just happened?"
The Headmaster, robe half-loose, a biscuit hovering near his mouth, chuckled.
"Don't mind her. Class 1–S students are... special."
Lucian sat slowly. "Special how?"
"There are three of them in Year One. None in Year Two. You'll learn why soon enough."
He sipped his tea.
"So. Dungeon?"
Lucian cleared his throat.
"I'm planning to do a run. Low-risk of course. For study and money."
The Headmaster raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous."
"I've studied the risks. I want experience. Fieldwork. Magic under suppression conditions."
Silence.
Then:
"You sound like Ellie."
Lucian blinked. "...Is that good?"
"She once tried to bribe a dungeon guardian with enchanted candy."
He waved a hand. A pouch of coin floated to Lucian's lap, along with two rune stones—one gold, one deep sapphire.
"Four hundred gold coins. School funds. Standard student loan. No interest. These are extras."
He pointed. "Gold one's a mana-shield. Auto-activates when you're near death. Blue boosts your next spell by about 40%."
Lucian whistled. "That's... generous."
"You're sharp. I don't mind investing. But if you get hurt—Ellie will incinerate me."
Lucian grinned. "Then I'll survive out of spite."
"Good lad. Now get out. I've got twelve budget requests and seventeen broke professors."
Elsewhere – Below the Academy
The room was dark.
One candle burned.
A figure in a hooded coat sat at a table before a black mirror. The surface rippled like oil.
"Status?"
A voice replied from the mirror, low and echoing:
"Units have been planted within the Adventurers Guild. Aether corruption is in motion. Panic will spread—slowly, but surely."
"Good. And the knights?"
"There's unrest. Just enough for distraction. The real question is: when do we release it?"
The figure adjusted his gloves.
"Soon. Not yet. There's a sequence to honor."
A pause.
Then both voices whispered together:
"Hail Nullum."
"God of Unbeing."
The candle went out.
Moments Later – Academy Hallway
That same hooded man now wore a crisp professor's coat, hair slicked back, glasses perched on a sharp nose.
He strolled through the halls, nodding faintly to passing students.
"Good afternoon, Professor!"
He gave a stiff nod. "Study hard."
Then entered a sealed door.
Above it, carved into ancient stone:
Class 1 – S
Inside:
A pale boy with black-and-red streaked hair sat cross-legged, blood swirling lazily above his palm.
A girl with her eyes still closed handed cake to another girl floating inside a glowing barrier, half-asleep.
The professor cleared his throat.
"Good afternoon, class."
The floating girl mumbled, "You're late."
The blood-user grinned. "He was probably combing his hair again."
The professor smiled tightly.
"Class... begin."