Rain drummed violently against the Academy's stained-glass windows, casting long streaks of distortion across the marble floors. The usual bustle of students was replaced with tense whispers and nervous glances. Something was wrong—terribly wrong.
Kaelian stood in the shadow of one of the tall pillars lining the central corridor, arms crossed. He wasn't just sensing unease; he knew what others only suspected. The threat wasn't internal. It was coming from outside. Worse, it had been allowed to come.
Three nights prior, a bloodied royal messenger had stumbled into the east courtyard. The guards hadn't seen him—Kaelian had. The man had collapsed in Kaelian's arms, pressing a scroll into his hands before succumbing to his wounds.
"The Ankarites… they've made a pact with the Shadows… Stop them… before they reach the Academy."
Kaelian had read the scroll three times. Once for strategy. Once for truth. Once for betrayal. It was a clear message: someone high in the royal court had enabled an invasion, a purge disguised as war. And the Academy—the heart of magical intelligence—was the first target.
**
A War Council in the Shadows
By candlelight, Kaelian convened with the only ones he trusted.
There was Seran, the silent duelist with eyes like blades; Eira, whose gift for tactics was second only to Kaelian's own; Malrik, whose skin pulsed with forbidden rune magic; and Lyssa, the healer… and mystery.
Over a map marked with magical threads and patrol schedules, Kaelian pointed to a spot just beyond the warded forestline.
"They'll strike here," he said. "Masked by shadow magic. They've likely bound Voidspawn. We need to intercept before they reach the wards."
Eira frowned. "Outside the Academy? That's suicide."
"Staying is worse," Kaelian replied coldly. "They're coming for us. The court won't send help. We're expendable."
Seran placed his hand over his blade's hilt. "Then we hit them first."
Lyssa's voice was soft. "You'll need a Void-link to locate the summoners."
Kaelian looked at her sharply.
"I'll do it," she said, calm but pale. "I can survive the ritual."
"You might not," Kaelian replied.
"If I don't, neither do you."
**
Into the Forest of Arkan
They left before dawn, disguised as cleaning servants. Malrik's talismans blurred their magical auras. Kaelian had memorized the patrol routes to the second—no one would see them leave.
Arkan Forest loomed like a beast, ancient and silent. No birds sang. The mist coiled like living breath.
Kaelian led them in a zigzag path, placing detection wards and nullifying traps. He moved like a war tactician—because that's exactly what he had once been, before reincarnation had thrust him into a world of crowns and curses.
They reached a clearing. There, among broken roots, lay the first bodies: Ankarite scouts, faces twisted in terror, mouths open in silent screams.
"They lost control," whispered Eira.
Kaelian nodded. "The Void doesn't obey commands. It whispers… then devours."
He drew the ritual circle with powdered obsidian and the blood of a hawk. Lyssa knelt at the center, eyes shut.
She began to chant.
The ground trembled.
The air split.
From the sky, black lightning fell.
And something answered.
**
They Came From the Dark
They did not walk.
They slithered, rushed, flowed.
Creatures shaped from living shadow, half-seen horrors with red eyes and limbs that bent wrong. Voidspawn. Dozens of them. Maybe more.
Kaelian barked commands.
"Form a circle! Defend Lyssa!"
Eira wove protection runes into the air. Malrik summoned walls of blue fire. Seran leapt from shadow to shadow, slicing beasts apart with unrelenting grace. Kaelian, at the center, hurled lightning spears from his fingertips, targeting the cores of the creatures—pulsing black orbs deep within their mass.
It wasn't enough.
The barrier began to falter. Eira screamed, "They're overwhelming us!"
Kaelian made his choice.
He whispered the forbidden words and activated the Seal of Erasure—a spell designed to annihilate all magic, friend and foe alike, in a ten-meter radius.
"Fall behind me. NOW!"
They obeyed.
He slammed his hand into the earth.
A white shockwave exploded outward.
Silence.
The Voidspawn howled—then ceased.
When the light faded, the clearing was empty. Ash. Smoke. Silence.
**
The Price of Victory
Kaelian awoke with blood on his lips. His right arm was numb, burned by magical backlash. Around him, the others stirred.
Lyssa was unconscious, eyes weeping dark tears, her pulse faint.
"She's alive," Malrik said. "But she's touched the Void. That mark won't fade."
Kaelian knelt beside her, guilt twisting inside him. He had used her—rationalized it as necessity—but the cost was hers to bear.
Still, they had survived. The Ankarite force was gone. The summoning broken.
But even in victory, Kaelian understood what this meant.
They had revealed their strength.
And now, the court would come for them.
**
Return and Reckoning
As they entered the Academy through the servant's tunnel, alarms rang. Energy spikes from Kaelian's spell had triggered every detection array in the institution.
Master Elgorn was waiting.
His face—usually unreadable—was thunderous.
"In my office. Now."
They didn't argue.
Inside the Council Chamber, high mages and political envoys waited. Among them: the royal observer, Dorn Valek, cloaked in midnight velvet.
Kaelian stood before them, tattered, burnt, defiant.
"You left the Academy. You used forbidden magic. You jeopardized us all," Elgorn growled.
"I saved the Academy," Kaelian replied evenly. "I protected the heirs of noble houses, and exposed a foreign incursion enabled by someone at court."
A silence descended.
Then Dorn Valek rose, eyes narrow.
"This boy... speaks like a king. Dangerous."
"He's a bastard," hissed one mage.
"Maybe," Dorn said. "Or maybe he's exactly what we need."
Kaelian met his gaze—and smiled.
A new game had begun.
And he was already six moves ahead.
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