Elric Lewin POV
I left the archive quietly, returning the key to Professor Mireille, who raised an eyebrow.
"Done already?"
"Yeah," I said. "Turns out I was wrong. Everything's fine."
She squinted at me. "When someone say that, everything is usually not fine."
I smiled innocently. "That's a stereotype."
She waved me off. "Get out of my archive."
---
The evening air outside was cold and heavy, painted with a faint orange hue from the setting sun. Students moved across the courtyard laughing, carefree. For a moment, it felt like I was the only one who noticed how strange the world had gotten lately.
I walked back to the dorms, thoughts circling like vultures.
If someone was tampering with reports, that meant they were inside the academy. If they could manipulate Distortion magic, that meant they were dangerous.
And if they'd taken an interest in Alaric and Thalia's mission...
Why?
What had happened that attracted this much attention?
I mean, it's not like they didn't face the organization again. It's just that in the novel, nothing like this was ever mentioned. Is that normal? Or do I need to intervene?
---
I reached my dorm, unlocked the door, and set my sword against the wall. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of magical wards protecting the building. I leaned against the window, staring into the darkening sky.
From here, the academy looked peaceful. Lanterns flickered like fireflies, laughter drifted from the cafeteria. But then, just at the edge of my vision, the air rippled.
A shimmer.
Like invisible cracks in glass.
Tiny distortions scattered across the horizon—too far for normal sight, but clear as day to me.
They flickered once, then vanished.
I rested my chin on my hand, whispering, "They're still watching us."
Then I smiled faintly.
"Fine. Let's see how long you can hide."
The night deepened, swallowing the world in silence, and for the first time in weeks, I felt that something inside the academy had changed—and not for the better.
---
Alaric Blackwood POV
The day after the grading announcement, the academy returned to its usual rhythm. Students went about their routines—training grounds filled with the dull clang of sparring, classrooms hummed with chatter, and the faint scent of chalk and mana residue lingered in the air.
But for Alaric Blackwood, the noise felt strangely distant.
He wasn't brooding over being second—no, pride was never his weakness. What unsettled him was the question that refused to leave his mind:
How did Elric Lewin score ninety-eight points?
He had read the board twice, maybe thrice, but the numbers didn't change. His mission had been clean, precise, and productive. He and Thalia had neutralized the threat, recorded all findings, and even secured minor relic fragments. There wasn't a flaw in their report.
So how did Elric get near-perfect?
He tried to dismiss it as mere curiosity, but it festered.
By the time evening descended and the classrooms emptied, Professor Kael had asked him to submit all records to Professor Mireille. Before submitting, though, he couldn't stop himself.
He found an empty archive room nearby. The person who usually sat there was nowhere to be seen.
"Must've left in a hurry," Alaric murmured, pushing the door open.
His excuse of stacking reports and checking if everything was in order was no longer needed.
The room was silent except for the faint creak of shelves. The air carried the smell of parchment and dust—the kind that clung to books untouched for years. Stacks of scrolls lined the walls, each tagged with names and grading seals.
There it was.
"Lewin, Elric & Rivers, Lucas."
Since Professor Mireille hadn't attached any seals related to her yet, no one would know he'd read this.
His hand stopped. Was it really okay? Or would it come back to bite him later?
Still, curiosity tugged at him.
He looked around once, then slipped the report from the stack and placed it on the reading table. The title page bore clean handwriting—a touch too neat for Lucas, so Elric must have written most of it.
> "Mission Site: Outer Forest, restricted ruins sealed by the Church as Cathedral Ruins. Objective: Investigate the site and retrieve anything with royal insignia."
Cathedral ruins? Alaric frowned. His and Thalia's mission had been in the same city. But classified as... Cathedral ruins?
He flipped the page.
> "Findings: Presence of distorted mana field, localized phenomenon triggered by partial sealing ritual. Unknown symbol similar to early-era sigil language observed on remaining wall fragment..."
There it was.
A wall.
Or rather, what used to be one.
He read the section twice, tracing the ink with his finger.
> "...the central structure contained a fractured stone segment approximately two meters high, bearing incomplete runic inscriptions. Energy traces correspond to pre-Sanctum church designs. Sealing incomplete. Subject to interference by external distortion field."
Pre-Sanctum church designs.
That phrase shouldn't have existed in a student report. Only high-level researchers even knew about that era of church architecture—it was before the major reformation, before the Order rewrote most of their symbols.
Alaric leaned back, staring at the parchment. He didn't know whether to be impressed or uneasy. Either Elric had uncovered something genuinely ancient, or he'd stumbled into something forbidden.
His eyes landed on one final line scrawled at the bottom:
> "Further investigation halted due to sealing destruction and presence of unidentified shadowy creatures."
Shadowy creatures.
That word made Alaric's pulse quicken just a fraction.
He carefully stacked the report, making sure to place it exactly where it had been. Then he turned to leave—but paused. Dust along the bottom of the report had been smudged. A faint outline of fingers brushed across the edge. Not fresh, but recent enough. Someone had taken this report out before him. Was it when no one else had submitted theirs? That would explain why only this one showed signs.
Was it a professor?
"...Curious," he muttered, straightening up.
On instinct, he brushed a bit of the disturbed dust between his fingers. It was fine—too fine for paper. More like mana ash, residue left behind when mana signatures destabilized after long exposure.
Meaning whoever last touched this parchment wasn't ordinary.
When the barrier of the Library Archives is crossed, this dust would be destroyed, and no evidence would remain. If it was an authorized person, that was fine. Otherwise, Elric might be in danger.
Should I warn him?
No, it's too early to draw conclusions.
He looked toward the dim window. Outside, the academy's main courtyard lay bathed in evening light, students laughing as they walked past. Everything seemed normal.
But this wasn't normal.
He needed context.
If that ruin had once been connected to a church, it should appear in the city's older registries. The academy library kept those under the Historical Reference Wing—rarely visited, mostly collecting dust.
He decided to check.
---
By the time Alaric entered the library, the sun had dipped below the horizon. Only a few candles burned along the study desks, and the librarian was nowhere in sight. The quiet was absolute.
He walked toward the far end of the hall, where massive wooden drawers labeled "Urban Records" stood in neat rows. Each contained maps, building blueprints, and restoration logs of cities associated with the academy's missions.
He pulled open one marked Western Sectors (Past 150 Years).
Scrolls—dozens of them. He began flipping through methodically.
Church of the Seven Pillars — abandoned thirty-two years ago.
Sanctum Chapel — destroyed by collapse, no record of reconstruction.
Eastern Cathedral — registered.
Lower District Cathedral — ...missing documentation.
There.
He leaned closer. The entry ended abruptly, torn near the middle. No record of consecration, no sign of demolition, no reason given for its absence. Just a note scribbled in faded ink:
> "Access restricted. Archive relocation under Sanctum directive."
That alone wouldn't be strange—unless the Sanctum still existed. But it didn't. The organization was dissolved decades ago, replaced by the Central Order. So why were their directives still enforced?
He carefully spread the torn edge against the candlelight. A faint circular seal appeared when heated—an old sigil. The same one Elric had described in his report.
Alaric's lips pressed into a thin line.
"Pre-Sanctum design," he whispered. "Still active within city limits…"
He rolled the scroll back, replacing it exactly as it had been. Then, for the first time that evening, he hesitated.
If what Elric saw was connected to the same symbol, it meant the ruin wasn't just some forgotten site. Someone—or something—had maintained a fragment of the old Church's seals, long after its disappearance.
And if that's true... the presence of shadowy figures wasn't coincidence.
---
He left the library in silence. The night air was cool, carrying faint scents of wet stone and moonlit grass. Torches along the corridor flickered as he passed, shadows stretching like dark veins across the wall.
His mind, however, was still replaying the phrases.
Unidentified figures. Distortion mana. Restricted archives.
He knew the Church's remnants had once been rumored to conduct experiments on dimensional interference—trying to manipulate boundaries between realms. But that was centuries ago, before all records were erased.
And yet... Elric's report described the same thing.
He exhaled slowly. "Just what did you find, Lewin?"
A faint creak broke his thoughts.
At the end of the corridor, one of the old windows was open. Curtains fluttered slightly. He walked closer—and saw dust swirling faintly under the moonlight. Not just ordinary dust—it shimmered faintly blue.
He crouched, touching it with gloved fingers. The shimmer pulsed once, like a heartbeat, before fading. Mana residue—the same as the one near the archive shelf.
So someone had passed through here recently.
He looked outside. The courtyard was empty. Not a sound, not a shadow.
But when he focused, he saw it—a faint distortion in the air, like heat waves bending the moonlight. It lasted half a second before disappearing completely.
His eyes narrowed.
"Someone's testing something within the barrier," he murmured. "Inside the academy."
He straightened and brushed the dust from his gloves. His expression didn't change, though his pulse quickened slightly.
If he told the professors, they'd dismiss it as residual mana from experiments. If he told Elric, it'd raise questions he wasn't ready to answer.
No, for now, it was better to observe quietly.
The dust told its own story. Someone—or something—had moved through the academy using distortions, leaving behind faint, forgotten traces. And the pattern connected both the cathedral ruins and the academy's archives.
Which meant this wasn't over.
---
Back in his dorm, Alaric sat at his desk, candlelight flickering across his notes. He had drawn a rough map—mission sites, suspected connections, and fragments of what he'd learned tonight.
A line connected the words Cathedral Ruins and Pre-Sanctum Sigil. Another linked Observers with Mana Distortion Traces.
He tapped the paper thoughtfully.
"Every trace… leaves dust," he said quietly. "And dust never lies."
He closed the notebook, leaned back, and looked toward the window.
Outside, the night was still—too still. A faint ripple of air drifted past, bending the candle flame for an instant before disappearing again.
He didn't move. Only watched.
Whatever had left that trace in the dust… was still here.