The Academy had returned to its usual rhythm, or at least it pretended to. After the survival exam, the halls buzzed with stories of monsters, narrow escapes, and emerging stars. Arkan Drehl's name was on every student's lips, his feats already taking on the shape of legend. He'd shattered three beasts single-handedly and rescued two noble heirs from a collapsing ruin. The professors were whispering about early advancement and sponsorships.
Riven Vale watched the celebrations from the corner of the hall, biting into a poorly toasted mana bun. It tasted like ash and regret.
The results were posted in silver letters on an enchanted board. He placed eighth. Not too high, not too low. Just the right amount of forgettable.
He tore a piece of bread with his teeth and muttered, "Perfect. Let the spotlight shine on the hero. I've got shadows to crawl through."
He turned from the noise, walking away as the Abyssal Chain beneath his uniform sleeve pulsed faintly, as if reminding him he wasn't done yet. It had been humming since the survival exam. Each night, it tugged gently in one direction, a pull that grew stronger with each hour. Now it felt almost desperate.
The pull led to the library.
It started after midnight. The stars hung lazily over the Academy towers, and magical lanterns floated down the pathways like lazy fireflies. Riven wore the Academy's cloak, its enchantment masking his presence. He moved through the corridors with practiced ease. Years of playing the game meant he knew which patrols to avoid, which wards to counter, and which floorboards to avoid.
The great library stood silent. Towering spires of ancient knowledge loomed over him, lined with tomes bound in beast hide and dragon scale. The public sections were open all night, but the lower floors—those were sealed after curfew. Locked with mana glyphs and hidden behind enchanted barriers.
He traced the sigil he memorized from the game's hidden questline, and the barrier flickered, then vanished.
He slipped through the barrier, heart steady, thoughts sharp. The Chain buzzed louder now, dragging him down a spiral staircase of blackened stone, deeper and deeper, until the scent of ink turned to dust, and the cold air turned metallic.
The door at the bottom wasn't locked. It was old, cracked from age, and opened with a whisper. Beyond it stretched a forgotten space, a hidden lab constructed beneath the Academy itself.
Stone pillars supported a vaulted ceiling, and the floor was lined with ritual circles, many of them broken. Old magical equipment lay rusted and broken, and scattered across the room were shards of glass, empty cages, and bloodstained notes written in demonic script.
Riven stepped carefully between the mess, eyes drawn to the center where a soft, violet glow pulsed beneath layers of wards. A pedestal waited at the center, cradling a shard of black crystal shaped like an eye.
The Chain surged. He stepped forward.
But then he felt it—another mana signature.
A voice echoed from the shadows. "You shouldn't be here."
Professor Allarin stepped into the dim light. His usual serene expression was gone, replaced with something colder, older. His eyes gleamed red beneath the illusion fading from his skin.
Riven didn't flinch. "And yet I am. Bit awkward now, isn't it?"
The professor studied him for a moment, head tilted like a predator sizing up prey. "You're not afraid."
"Should I be? You're a low-tier mole in a crumbling ruin. I've faced worse just trying to get breakfast around here."
"Your soul smells like the abyss. The Eye has chosen you."
"Yeah, about that—"
Allarin's form cracked, and his true body emerged. His skin was marked with abyssal tattoos, and his limbs distorted with corruption. He didn't hesitate.
A wave of dark magic surged forward. Riven dodged, the Chain unraveling in a spiral as he swung it toward the nearest pillar, pulling himself up and over the blast.
The lab shook. Sparks flew. They clashed again, chain against claws, magic against movement. Riven weaved through the air, redirecting spells with the mana reflection he copied from a dead summoner in the last arc.
"You weren't meant to be part of this world," Allarin growled.
"Tell that to the plot," Riven replied, throwing a handful of illusion shards to blind him.
In a flash, Riven activated the Chain's skill. The threads coiled, glowing red.
Bind Reality: One-Second Seal.
The world froze. He moved forward and drove a blade of raw mana through the professor's chest. Blood hissed, shadow screamed, and Allarin collapsed in a pool of black mist, disintegrating before he hit the ground.
The Eye pulsed.
A notification blinked in his mind.
[You have acquired Hidden Piece #4: The Broken Eye of Val'tahar] [Passive: Brief precognition — glimpses of immediate future] [Side Effect: Mental strain with overuse.]
In the original game, Arkan found this during a desert expedition in Year Three. It gave him split-second reflexes that turned the tide of the southern war. Now it belonged to Riven.
He slipped the Eye into his inventory. He wouldn't activate it yet. Too risky. Too obvious.
By the time he exited the lab, the sky had started to pale. The stars were fading.
At breakfast, Seria stirred her tea. "Did you feel it last night? A mana spike. Sudden. Like something old had awakened."
"Probably just a rat chewing on a ritual circle."
"You joke too much."
"Humor is how I cope with our inevitable doom."
She gave him a look but let it drop.
A soft chime echoed through the hall. A school-wide announcement played.
"Professor Allarin has taken a leave of absence due to health complications. His classes are suspended until further notice."
Riven drank his juice, smirking.
Above the Academy, hidden far from mortal eyes, a scrying mirror shimmered in a space untouched by light. Twelve demon silhouettes watched the scene play again and again.
"He took the Eye."
"Not part of prophecy."
"He walks paths not meant for him."
"Should we end him?"
A larger figure shook its head. "No. Let the false piece gather power. The crash will be louder that way."
Riven Vale yawned and scratched his head.
Another piece acquired. Another future rewritten. And still, no one suspected a thing.