"A lie survives until the truth learns to fight."
—Saying among the outer slums.
Eyes in the Halls
Reign Azaril walked through the Academy's central hall like a phantom.
Every Ranked student gave him space. Every Keeper, silence. His silver coat didn't rustle; his boots made no sound. The only sign of life was the faint aura around his body—an aura that shimmered violet and black, the color of elite Rankholders with death-bound magic.
He paused at the central obelisk—a towering prism of light that tracked every Ranked student's location, strength, and magical output.
His eyes narrowed.
"Kairo."
No result. No profile.
Only a ghost line blinking faintly on the perimeter of Rank Zero: a signal long thought impossible.
He tapped a sigil crystal, and the screen shifted. A visual glitch flickered: the shadow of a boy with unstable readings. The screen blinked again. Blank.
Reign smirked.
"So the Unranked ghost is real after all."
The Tournament Looms
In the grand Sparring Arena—a coliseum of gold arches and floating staircases—the top 100 Ranked students trained for the Ranking Festival.
It was one of the year's most-watched events. All students, nobles, and alumni would attend. The winner? Guaranteed a promotion—or even a private invitation to the High Court of Magic.
Kairo, disguised under a forged identity as "Kael Rune," stood hidden among the Rankless spectators, watching.
He couldn't stop his eyes from drifting toward the fighting ring. Not because of the flashy spells or swordplay—but because of the man standing inside it:
A tall figure with red hair like flame and a sword that hummed when unsheathed.
"Torian Vale. Rank Three."
Lyra appeared beside Kairo, hood up.
"He's one of the Council's 'Chosen'," she whispered. "A noble's son. Next in line for High Rank if he wins this festival."
Kairo watched as Torian destroyed a challenger with a single strike of lightning and flame. The boy barely moved.
The crowd cheered. But Kairo only frowned.
"He's strong," he said. "But he's not invincible."
"Planning to fight him?"
"I'm planning to win."
Fractures
Later that night, Lyra and Kairo argued.
"You can't enter the Ranking Festival!" Lyra hissed. "Your forged identity won't survive. You'll be exposed!"
"I have to," Kairo snapped. "The only way I get access to the Vault again is if I rank high enough to be allowed in."
"Or you could be thrown into the Skyhold Dungeons for impersonation."
Kairo turned away. His fists clenched.
"Lyra... I can't keep hiding. Every time I close my eyes, I feel it calling me. That Vault—my mark—it's like there's something inside trying to break out."
Lyra touched his shoulder, gently this time.
"Then let me help. Just promise you won't throw your life away for revenge."
"It's not revenge," he said quietly. "It's survival."
Their eyes lingered a second too long.
Then she pulled her hand away.
"Just... don't die, Kairo."
That night, Kairo lay awake in his dorm, staring at the ceiling of cracked stone above him. He replayed Lyra's words over and over, like an echo stuck in his ribs. For the first time in years, he wanted to live. Not just to survive—but to stay beside someone.
And that scared him more than the festival.
The First Move
Meanwhile, in the Moon Room, Reign met with Archer Cain, a skilled psion and fellow Rank Keeper. Together they reviewed the anomaly footage again.
"You're sure it's not a false signal?" Archer asked.
"No. It's someone using a forbidden cloak rune. Something old. Something from before the Sky War."
Archer frowned. "So it's real. The Breaker curse?"
Reign didn't answer directly.
Instead, he tapped the obelisk, inputting new code.
"Track all unusual energy surges during the Ranking Festival."
He smiled thinly.
"Whoever they are... they won't stay hidden for long."
He stared at the flickering ghost image on the screen once more.
"Let them enter the festival. Let them shine." He leaned back. "Then we tear the mask off."
Entry of the Unseen
At the Festival registration ceremony, students gathered before the academy's Grand Plaza, where each contestant passed through a truth-warded gate to verify identity and magical capability.
Kairo, wearing his illusion-sigil pendant crafted by Lyra, stood in line.
He felt eyes watching.
Whispers surrounded him.
"Who's that?"
"Never seen him before."
"Looks Rankless."
"Why's he even here?"
He didn't flinch.
When his turn came, he stepped forward, passed through the ward—and for a moment, the illusion flickered.
A flash of his real aura—wild, deep blue with crimson edges—burst like lightning.
The entire crowd fell silent.
Then it passed.
The ward gave a single note: "Validated."
His name blinked onto the registry: Kael Rune – Independent Entry. Unranked. Status: Pending Evaluation.
Torian Vale narrowed his eyes from across the crowd.
"Interesting," he murmured. "A ghost with claws."
Lyra exhaled in relief, watching from the shadows. Her fingers trembled.
She didn't know whether to pray for him—or run.
First Match
Two hours later, the matches began. Students formed dueling circles, cheered on by a roaring crowd.
Kael Rune's first opponent was a Rank 97 lightning-binder named Dren Solvus.
Cocky. Loud. Fast.
Kairo barely moved.
Dren struck with three bolts in a flash.
Kairo dodged the first two—let the tird hit.
The crowd gasped.
Then Kiro raised a single finger—and a pulse of deep flame sprad from his chest.
Dren's lightning evaprated.
A shockwave followed—not fire, but sometime older.
The ground cracked. Dren flew twenty feet backward, unconscious.
Silence.
Then someone whispered:
"Breaker magic…"
Kairo tuened, eyes glowing faintly.
And the xrowd exploded.
Sime cheered. Some panicked.
The judges hudled. Someone shoted for a scan.
Reign Azril simply smiled.
"Let the gam begin."
The Game Begins
Reign watched from the shadows, lips curled in a smile.
"So… that's you
Beside him, Acher nodded.
"We ta him?
"No," Reign said. "We play."