The dungeon core sat in a containment cradle beneath the academy's southern vault, humming with a pulse that didn't match any known arcane frequency.
Toji stared at it from across the chamber.
It wasn't glowing.
It was breathing.
Each pulse of light from the crystal was faint—pale blue that deepened to silver at the edges. Sometimes, it flickered with gold. Not randomly. Not rhythmically. As if thinking.
Lysara stood beside him.
"You carried it out," she said. "It responded to you."
"I didn't touch it."
"You didn't need to."
The core shimmered again.
The Mnemo-Eye formed on its own.
Toji didn't summon it.
It simply appeared—large, motionless, spiral iris slowly rotating.
Lysara took a cautious step back.
Toji didn't.
The Eye blinked once.
Then twice.
Then opened wide.
A thread of silver light stretched from its pupil to the core.
Toji froze.
And his mind opened.
⸻
He wasn't standing anymore.
He was seeing.
The core wasn't a power source. It was a lens. A fragment of something greater. It hadn't been made—it had been shed. Like a scale. Or a tear.
And it saw Toji.
No—something through it saw him.
The Eye flared.
"Do you see now?" it whispered.
Toji staggered.
He was back in his body.
Sweat on his neck.
Fingers clenched.
"What did it show you?" Lysara asked.
"Not the past. Not the future."
He exhaled.
"Possibility."
⸻
Later, in the garden, Toji summoned the Eye again.
This time, not for a mission.
Not for a test.
Just to look.
He let it scan the empty courtyard.
It did nothing for a long moment.
Then it blinked.
And whispered:
"She wonders if she'll lose you."
He turned.
Kaela stood at the archway, arms crossed.
Toji dismissed the Eye immediately.
She walked over, nodding once.
"Your posture changed," she said. "Like something punched you in the ribs."
"Maybe it did."
"Academy's buzzing about the core. No one knows what it is."
He looked at her.
"Do you?"
She shrugged. "Does it matter?"
"It might."
She studied him, then looked away.
"You've changed."
"Because of the Eye?"
"No," she said. "You're… quieter. Not cold. Just somewhere else."
He didn't respond.
The Eye wanted to form again.
He kept it down.
⸻
That night, Toji sat on the roof of the library, wind cold across his knuckles.
He let the Eye manifest one more time.
It hovered beside him in silence.
Then it showed him:
Kaela walking away.
Roth challenging him.
The headmasters whispering.
A mirror shattering.
And in one shard—his own face, expressionless.
The Eye blinked.
"This is not destiny. It is probability. What they fear. What you refuse to believe."
Toji nodded.
.
.
.
The bell rang four times—sharper, longer, and deeper than usual.
Toji looked up from his book. That tone meant only one thing:
A formal summons.
By the time he reached the central plaza, half the student body was already gathered. Marble columns cast long shadows across the courtyard as light-borne banners unfurled in the air, etched with golden script:
"Valemont Presents: The Veins of Valor Tournament."
In the center, standing atop a floating rune-plate, Headmaster Cylas raised both arms.
"Students," he said, voice magnified by subtle enchantment, "the time has come to bare your strength—not to each other, but to the eyes of the world."
Murmurs rolled across the courtyard.
Cylas continued.
"For the next five days, Valemont will host the Class Battle Trials—an exhibition of our finest mages, structured to test aptitude, control, and creativity. Observers from allied factions, noble houses, Heroic Guilds, and arcane academies will be watching. Some will be scouting. Some… will be judging."
Toji stood still, heart calm, shadow at ease.
This was no longer about surviving.
This was about being seen.
"Participation is mandatory," Cylas declared. "Matches will be structured across three days. First—an individual trial through the Scaled Arena. Second—a public demonstration of dueling capacity. And third… a final match, designed in secret, known only to the judges."
Cylas lowered his arms.
"Class scores will impact dorm allocation, stipend elevation, and personal advancement. Choose your actions with pride."
The rune-plate vanished.
The banners ignited—briefly, brilliantly—and dissolved.
⸻
"Did you hear that?" Kaela said, catching up to Toji as students dispersed. "They're making it a spectacle."
"It already is."
She studied him.
"You're not worried?"
"I'm calculating."
Her grin flickered. "Of course you are."
⸻
Class C met in the west dueling chamber that evening.
Varn stood at the center, arms behind his back.
"You are permitted to compete individually," he said. "But you will be ranked. Publicly. Those who fail early will still be seen."
Roth raised his hand. "Will our sparring scores affect our pairings?"
"No. This isn't ranked combat. It's observed demonstration. Expect unequal matches. Expect attention."
Eyes flicked toward Toji.
No surprise.
He'd been the center of whispers since the dungeon dive. Since the Mnemo-Eye appeared in full.
Varn nodded to the class.
"The internal evaluation begins tomorrow. If your tether is unstable, don't bring it. If your spells are unrefined, refine them tonight. Families are coming. Factions will see you as assets. Or disappointments."
He paused.
"And one more thing—Class F, D, and B will be watching too."
Silence.
Toji folded his arms.
⸻
The dorms buzzed that night.
Some practiced.
Some panicked.
Toji sat in his chamber, blade unsummoned, the Mnemo-Eye floating quietly behind him.
He stared at it.
"Why show them anything?"
The Eye blinked.
"Because some truths must be chosen, not discovered."
He summoned Kareth next—the jackal-Echo now armored, sharper, taller.
It nodded once.
Then vanished.
⸻
The next morning, Kaela found him at the sparring field.
She didn't speak at first.
Just tossed him a practice rod.
"Warm-up?"
He caught it.
They circled.
For the first time, she pressed him—fast, controlled. Her strikes held weight now. She was stronger than before. Sharper.
He met every blow.
But didn't counter.
Finally, she stopped.
"You're holding back again."
"No," he said. "I'm measuring you."
She blinked.
"And?"
"You're ready."
She didn't smile.
But her shoulders lowered.
"That means a lot."
He nodded.
It did.
⸻
When the day ended, students gathered under the vaulted dome of the eastern dueling annex. The entire floor glowed with incantation-light as golden script scrolled into being above their heads.
The pairing list formed slowly—name by name, rank by rank, each student etched into place like prophecy made public.
Toji Fushiguro
Roth Talveir
Kaela Vrenn
Levia Thorn
Cyrin Marr
Elric Vint
…and etc.
Each name was bracketed in elemental hues: crimson for flame users, sapphire for water-born casters, amethyst for summoners, and obsidian-black for Echo-bound.
Toji's name burned black and violet.
Not because he declared it.
But because the arena itself recognized him.
He felt the attention shift—not from one person, but from dozens. Eyes that had watched him pass in silence now weighed him. Acknowledgment, doubt, fear, ambition—all churned together like aether in stormwater.
And beneath the roster, more script appeared—smaller, but no less important:
Public Seating Confirmed Attendees:
Guildmaster Indros, High Spear of the Vanguard Guild.
Archivist Keira of the Hollow Eye Circle.
Prince Jorrin of House Ventros.
Three Observers from the Echo Council.
Toji's breath stopped for just a moment.
The Mnemo-Eye formed behind him—not summoned, but compelled.
It hovered silently, spiral iris pulsing, then rotating.
Once. Slowly.
Then again.
Faster.
The world dulled around him.
Everything except the golden script.
The Eye blinked once, its mental voice soft and cutting.
"They are not here to scout."
Toji frowned.
"They are here to find."
He looked again at the names.
The Echo Council rarely attended public displays.
They moved behind veils, writing the magical laws that governed tether usage and memory-bound artifacts. Most of Valemont's staff had never seen a Council emissary in person. Even Lysara had spoken of them with cautious respect.
For them to attend… meant something had already been decided.
He stepped back from the crowd. The Mnemo-Eye hovered beside him.
"Who are they here for?" he asked aloud, voice too quiet to draw attention.
The Eye blinked again.
"You already know."