Alaric Blackwood POV
The chamber was dim, lit only by the blue shimmer of sigils carved into the stone floor. Incense smoke drifted upward in slow spirals, coiling around the hooded figures gathered in a circle.
The air felt dense, humming with quiet power — a faint heartbeat of mana pulsing from the sigils.
At the center of the room, a mirror-like disc floated above the ground — thin as glass, yet darker than shadow. Within it, faint outlines moved, distorted by waves of interference.
One of the cloaked figures — a woman with a voice like rusted steel — spoke first.
"Two interference points… both within the same province."
Another leaned closer to the disc. "Yes. Both reacted within hours of each other."
"Coincidence?"
"No. The seals were built to react to proximity. One was the test site. The other, the containment node."
Another voice added, "The containment node was also meant to distract the principal of the academy if the first one failed."
A low hum rippled through the circle — agreement, or unease.
A tall figure standing just beyond the circle stepped forward. His robes were darker than the rest, patterned faintly with red runes that shifted when seen from the corner of one's eye.
He spoke slowly, his voice calm and heavy.
"Our instruments confirm that the second site was disturbed by outsiders — not our agents. Students, judging by the information."
He raised his hand, and the disc brightened, revealing four faint outlines — blue silhouettes surrounded by flickering script.
"Names?"
"Alaric Blackwood. Thalia Trystan. Elric Lewin. Lucas Rivers," said the woman. "All cadets of the Academy."
A pause followed — not disbelief, but consideration.
"So the containment seal reacted to the resonance of mortals," murmured another. "Interesting. The anchor didn't reject them. That means their mana harmonics are compatible."
"Compatible enough," the leader corrected, "to awaken what was buried."
A few murmured in excitement. Others whispered prayers to ancient names.
The leader raised a hand, silencing them.
"They interrupted the ritual sequence, but not entirely. Enough fragments remain within the resonance field. We can still use them."
"Use them?"
"They were near the activation points. The echoes of that mana cling to them now. Their every step leaves a trace — and through those traces, we can see."
The mirror rippled again, and for an instant, four faint lights blinked on its surface — distant, scattered across the academy grounds.
The leader lowered his hand. "Continue the observation. Do not interfere. The next phase will reveal which of them carries the stronger echo."
"And if the seal reawakens before we are ready?"
He smiled beneath his hood. "Then the bell will toll."
The lights on the mirror dimmed, fading into black.
Silence filled the chamber, heavy and absolute — except for the faint, rhythmic chime that echoed from far above ground.
A bell, ringing once in the dead of night.
Meanwhile, a man stood in the corner. He wasn't hiding beneath a robe, but the distortion around him made it impossible to see him clearly. Though hidden, Elric would immediately recognize him as the pseudo-powerhouse who used space magic.
---
The academy bell was never supposed to ring after dusk.
Its tower loomed over the courtyard like a spine of stone and iron, its bronze bell sealed generations ago — a relic from the First War, when sound itself had been weaponized.
Yet that night, long after curfew, a low chime rolled through the air — deep, hollow, and deliberate.
It wasn't the wind.
I sat upright in bed, heart hammering once before settling into a steady rhythm. The sound echoed faintly through the dormitory walls, followed by silence so pure it felt staged.
Then another chime.
Two tolls. Midnight.
And beneath the second one — a whisper. Mana.
I swung my legs off the bed, pulling on my coat. My gloves followed, the familiar weight of my focus rings sliding over my knuckles.
Something about that tone had resonance — not just sound, but magic layered beneath it. The kind I'd felt once before, beneath the cathedral during our last mission.
The same frequency.
The same faint hum that lingered in your bones after exposure.
I didn't bother with light; the corridors were half-lit by moonlight spilling through the tall windows. The academy was silent, as if holding its breath.
By the time I reached the courtyard, the third toll echoed — softer now, drawn out until it melted into the night air.
The bell tower loomed ahead, ancient stone weathered by centuries. The gate at its base should have been sealed, but the chain hung loose, the lock cracked clean through.
Someone had forced it recently.
I pressed my fingers to the metal — faint mana residue, fading fast. Whoever entered wasn't ordinary.
Then a quiet voice behind me said,
"...You too, it seems."
I turned.
Thalia Trystan stood in the moonlight, the hem of her dark coat brushing her boots. Her expression was unreadable as always, eyes sharp and steady. She carried no lantern — just her silver spell dagger glinting faintly in her right hand.
"You heard it," I said.
She nodded once. "Couldn't ignore it."
Neither of us asked why the other was there. That was unnecessary. The kind of curiosity that brought someone to the bell at midnight wasn't coincidence.
We pushed open the gate together.
The interior smelled of dust and iron. Wooden stairs spiraled upward, groaning under every step. The only light came from narrow arrow-slit windows, casting vertical lines of silver across the stone.
We climbed in silence until the staircase opened into the upper chamber — a circular room where the bell hung suspended by thick chains, its surface carved with runes so old they'd nearly faded.
Except now, several of them glowed faintly — lines of pale blue light tracing themselves into existence.
My pulse quickened.
Those markings — I'd seen them before.
"Same pattern," I said quietly. "As the ones on the floor beneath the cathedral."
Thalia approached slowly, eyes scanning every inch of the runes. "They're newer. Reapplied recently."
The glow pulsed — once, twice — faint as breathing.
She drew a small piece of chalk from her pocket and began sketching counter-sigils on the nearest pillar. "Trace anchors," she murmured. "They're not meant to summon… they're for tracking. Or mapping."
"Mapping what?"
"Locations connected by resonance."
I frowned. "So the bell's being used to—"
"—mark where their ritual fragments exist," she finished. "Each toll sends a pulse through the ley lines. Anyone listening knows exactly which seals remain dormant."
I exhaled slowly. "So they're looking for something we don't even understand yet."
"Or for someone."
The bell gave a faint hum again, like the echo of a heartbeat. The blue lines brightened — only slightly, but enough for both of us to notice.
"Careful," she said quickly. "The runes react to proximity."
I stepped back, watching her hand hover inches from the sigils. Her expression didn't change, but tension coiled in her shoulders — the kind that came from balancing precision and fear.
"What if we destroy it?" I asked.
She shook her head. "We'd risk triggering it instead. This one isn't an anchor — it's a relay. It connects to others like it."
"Then we seal it."
She nodded once, and together we began layering suppression runes across the floor. The process was slow and deliberate — one wrong mark could reverse the spell. The air thickened with static mana, humming faintly like distant thunder.
When the last sigil aligned, the bell's glow flickered once and dimmed.
Silence returned — heavy and absolute.
Thalia exhaled. "That should cut its link, at least temporarily."
"Temporarily," I repeated.
She looked at me, expression unreadable. "Whatever's connected to it will notice. We should leave before it—"
A sound below interrupted her.
Footsteps.
Soft, deliberate, not belonging to either of us.
We froze.
The sound moved up the staircase — slow, measured. Then it stopped.
Thalia crouched low near the railing, spell dagger ready. I pressed my back to the wall beside the door, mana gathering faintly in my right hand.
Silence.
Then a faint scraping — metal dragging against stone — and the footsteps resumed, retreating.
We waited until they faded completely.
No voices. No light. Just emptiness below.
I looked at her. "Could've been a patrol."
"Patrols don't move like that."
She was right. Whoever it was had noticed something — maybe the seal's brief activation — and chosen to vanish instead of confront.
"We should check the archives tomorrow," she said after a long pause. "See if the bell tower was ever used for rituals."
I nodded. "If the records aren't missing already."
Thalia gave a small, tired exhale. "Then we'll search what remains."
We left without another word, descending the stairs in silence. The air outside was colder now, the moon half-veiled behind thin clouds.
When we stepped into the courtyard, the gate clicked softly behind us — by itself.
Thalia stopped. Her hand went to her dagger again.
I glanced back. The chain that had been broken now lay whole — repaired, as if it had never been damaged.
A whisper of mana brushed past my senses, like a thread pulling taut.
"Someone doesn't want visitors," I murmured.
Thalia didn't answer. She turned away first, disappearing down the east path toward the dorms.
I lingered a moment longer, staring up at the dark tower. The bell was silent now — but somehow, I felt its vibration still echoing faintly in my chest.
Something had woken.
Something that had been waiting for the right resonance to be heard.
---
Elric Lewin POV
The night air pressed against the glass of my dorm window. I had been writing when the first mana ripple hit — faint, like a shiver running through the desk.
I set the pen down and focused. The ripple spread outward from the tower's direction — layered mana frequencies, interlaced perfectly. Not random. Controlled.
Through Omniscient, the world brightened slightly — outlines clearer, sounds magnified.
Above the courtyard, faint traces of distortion shimmered — invisible cracks crawling across the night sky.
"So," I murmured, leaning back. "They've found a way in. And now I know for sure things have changed. How I don't know. I don't really care."
I just watched as the last distortion faded into darkness — leaving the academy peaceful once again, as if nothing had happened.
I smirked.
"I'd rather bring enemies to the academy. After all, while I'm around, they can't touch Alaric or any student. But if it's a weak opponent… I'll let the students get some practice."