A sense of awe and unease settled over Bishie. Unlike Ourania, Will, and Ruby, who had seen the structure countless times, he was experiencing it for the first time. As they made their way into the senior district, the path ended abruptly at a massive wall that split the institution, a colossal structure that loomed over the four students. Its surface was not a smooth expanse but a mosaic of rough-cut granite blocks, their dark, weathered faces telling a story of countless seasons. The air, already cool, seemed to grow heavy and still in its shadow. Thirty meters high and sixteen meters thick, the wall was fitted with a tower every twenty meters, and giant, imposing gate doors were wedged between the two towers nearest to them, their iron surfaces scarred with age and rust. Bishie stared up at the unyielding edifice, his mind struggling to comprehend its purpose.
"Isn't this wall kinda pointless?"
"Pointless?!" Ourania paused, a hint of genuine surprise in her tone as Ruby and Will continued toward the gate, already accustomed to the sight.
"In a manickal world where we can phase through matter and teleport across continents, how could this possibly be useful?" Bishie asked, his gaze fixed on the stone. "It's a monument to inefficiency, a relic from a less enlightened time."
"Just wait, and you'll see," Ourania's smile was mysterious, a hint of an inside joke that left him even more confused. She took a moment to look at the carvings on the wall, her gaze tracing the faded symbols.
They caught up with Ruby and Will, who were waiting by the left tower. A small, reinforced sliding window and a heavy door were fitted into the stone. Ourania took the papers from Bishie, files of Grimsnow endeavors. She then pressed a small, copper button on the window frame. A soft buzz echoed from within, and a moment later, a short lady looked out. Her face was barely visible above the bottom of the frame, her expression tired, but a practiced smile appeared as she slid the window open with a weary sigh.
"Name and ID, please."
Before Ourania could utter a syllable, Will pushed her gently out of view.
"Will, Student," he announced, sliding his ID to the lady with his most alluring look. It was a well-rehearsed, charming smirk that had worked on countless others.
Her smile faltered as she skimmed his attire—the carefully combed hair, the subtly tailored black tux with its golden accents—and then took a closer look at the card. "It reads 'S.15-08,' which makes you a student, but Mr. Will, I know you were a student, so I technically can't take this card. This is an out-of-date card." Her voice was kind but firm, and she did not waver.
Will's smile dropped. He was used to getting his way, especially with a simple charm.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but please run our IDs through the system," Ourania said, her voice a calm counterpoint to Will's deflated swagger as she handed over her card along with Will's again. Ruby did the same, her expression neutral.
The lady's gaze darted to Bishie, who was standing there, a question mark on his face. "And the boy?" she asked, her tone now less a polite request and more a demand for clarity.
"No ID. He's a new student, but that won't matter once you see the mistake you're making," Ourania said with a devilish grin, her eyes narrowed and glinting with a confidence that made the lady's smile vanish entirely.
It was a stark transformation. The woman, whose name was Mimi shown by her name-tag, had seen thousands of students over the years, from eager freshmen to world-weary seniors, but the look in this girl's eyes was unlike anything she'd ever seen. It was not arrogance, but an absolute, unshakeable certainty.
Mimi scoffed, though her eyes were now filled with uncertainty. "You kids are funny." She pulled the IDs back and walked off, her hurried footsteps echoing from inside the small tower.
A few minutes passed, each one stretching into an eternity of silence. Will shifted his weight impatiently, and Ruby cleared her throat. The anticipation hung heavy in the air. Finally, the door creaked open, and Mimi returned, her face drained of color as a palpable terror moved through her body.
"Your cards," she whispered, her hands trembling as she handed them back one by one, her head bowed in submission. The IDs were returned with a faint warmth, a lingering residue of the powerful magical wards they contained.
The heavy door beside the window opened with a deep groan of rusted metal, revealing a small, stark room beyond. Ruby, Ourania, and Will made their way in first. As Bishie moved to follow, he noticed faded, intricate symbols carved into the granite, faint under a veil of root and vine. He reached out to trace one, but before he could decipher their meaning, Will grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him through, shutting the door behind them with a final, echoing thud.
Bishie reoriented himself and looked around in a daze. He was in a massive, cylindrical room where hundreds of polished plexiglass pipes, just barely thicker than his arms, snaked across the walls and ceiling like metallic vines. The air was filled with a cacophony of chimes and intercom messages, a constant, blaring stream of information that felt utterly overwhelming. Each chime corresponded to a message, a soft but persistent ringing that layered on top of itself. The pipes hummed with a low, resonant energy. "District 5, Section 2, East-mid tower 5" was one of the many messages he could make out from the chaos, followed by a whoosh of air. Papers flowed through translucent tubes like steam from a calliope, disappearing into the labyrinth of pipes with a whoosh and a rattle, traveling at impossibly high speeds.
"What is this place?" Bishie asked, his voice almost lost in the din.
"This," Ourania said, her voice cutting through the noise with a theatrical flourish, "is Grimsnow's inner workings." She led him to the other end of the room, where another door and window identical to the one they came from were located. "See? I told you the walls weren't pointless. Because our institution is basically a city, these walls deliver mail to all the districts. They're a relic from the past, yes, but one that still gets the job done better and faster than any modern technology. No hackers, no digital interference, just brute mechanical force. It's like Grimsnow's own circulatory system, a beating heart of pure, mechanical ingenuity."
Bishie opened the door and stepped out, the air now feeling different—cooler and crisper, smelling of damp earth and old stone. Buildings of worn brick and mortar, many with intricate carvings and ivy-covered facades, spanned across a kilometer of land. He expected modern labs or gleaming spires, but instead, he saw something that looked like a quiet, university town, only massive and spread out as far as the eye can see.
His face soured. "Seems kinda... old-fashioned."
"Welcome to the senior district," Mimi said, her voice softer than before as she closed the door behind them, the chimes from the pipe room now a distant murmur.
They began to walk down a cobbled path toward what Bishie initially thought was a town, but upon closer inspection, the buildings weren't townhomes but a sprawling complex of labs, lecture halls, restaurants, and dormitories. Students of all ages and attires—some in crisp lab coats, others in loose, comfortable clothes, and a few in ceremonial robes—milled about, talking and laughing. The dormitories, in particular, looked almost identical to those in classic paintings, with leaded windows and brick chimneys. The only hint of modernity was the quiet hum of energy coursing through nearly invisible wires crisscrossing between the buildings.
"Why is the senior district so out of date?" he asked, a sense of disconnect settling over him. "Doesn't it make learning more difficult?"
"Not at all," a new voice answered, not from his surroundings, but from within his head. It was clear and direct, yet felt as natural as a thought. "It's because it's a nod to where the institution rose from."
"A voice?! In my head?! Who is that?!"
"That was from me," Ian said, appearing from behind the group alongside Gala, the two of them meeting up with the others as if they had been there all along.
"Class is finally over," Gala said, stretching and bending her body left and right, a clear sign of relief. "Where's the rest of us? I was hoping to eat before the mission."
"Mission?" Bishie questioned, the mages all suffocated Bishie with their gaze.
"You couldn't tell that was a joke?" Will chuckled. This seems to calm Bishie down a little bit but a seed of doubt has already been planted. The mages continue with their original conversation.
Ourania pulled out her smartphone. "I don't know, I'll call Maram and see." She held the phone to her ear, but before it could even ring once, the call was immediately ended. Ourania's brows furrowed in confusion, and her knuckles went white as she gripped the device. Something was wrong. Very wrong.