When Professor Kael said, "First-years will face the Hall of Illusions," half the class cheered.
The other half — those who had actually been inside that building before — simply groaned.
I belonged to neither group.
I just wanted to see what kind of illusions the academy thought could fool me.
---
The Hall of Illusions sat a little apart from the main building, its architecture twisting upward like a spiral shell. Its surface shimmered faintly, as though it couldn't decide whether to reflect the sunlight or swallow it. The moment we stepped past the boundary rune, sound dulled, colors dimmed, and the entire world seemed to breathe.
Beside me, Althaea walked with her hands clasped neatly behind her back.
Unlike me, she looked excited. That alone was suspicious.
"Are you smiling?" I asked.
She blinked, startled. "No. I'm… preparing."
"For what? A friendly stroll through a building full of tricks?"
"For victory," she said flatly.
Ah. Victory. The sacred word of all perfectionists.
---
We reached the entrance platform where Professor Kael stood with a few instructors from the Enchantment Division. A cluster of shimmering crystals floated behind them, each representing a team inside the hall. The goal was simple: collect the three crest fragments hidden within. Each crest reacted to the mana signatures of specific students — meaning stealing from other teams was possible, but not easy.
Kael raised a hand for silence. "Remember, illusion doesn't mean 'fake'. The hall can shape reality if your mind gives it enough permission. Maintain clarity."
Althaea murmured, "In other words, don't get distracted."
I grinned. "I'm counting on you for that."
Her sigh could've powered an entire windmill.
---
We entered.
The door closed behind us with a heavy clank, and the world changed.
At first glance, we stood in a long marble corridor lined with mirrors. But the air was too still — the reflections too precise. Each mirror shimmered faintly, as if breathing on its own. I could already sense faint distortions crawling like veins beneath the floor.
Through Omniscient, my senses unfolded — every sound, every tiny particle of dust trembling in rhythm with the illusions.
It was almost too clear.
I could see which reflections were fake. I could even tell where the hidden passage lay.
But…
Althaea didn't know that.
And watching her solve it was oddly satisfying.
---
She examined the mirrors one by one, tracing the air with precise mana strokes. Her fingers glowed faintly with detection runes.
"It's a repetition trap," she murmured. "Each mirror loops a different part of space. If we walk forward carelessly, we'll end up circling forever."
"Like a conversation with Professor Seraphine," I said.
She glanced over. "You're not helping."
"I wasn't trying to."
Her lips twitched — barely — and she turned back to work.
She studied the third mirror for a long moment, then suddenly said, "Step two paces to the left."
I did. The reflection rippled like water, and a doorway appeared where solid wall had been. She looked quietly pleased. "See? Observation and logic."
"Impressive," I admitted. "You passed the first illusion."
She frowned. "You mean there's another?"
"Oh, at least five more in this room," I said cheerfully.
Her glare could have incinerated me.
I wisely didn't elaborate.
---
The next room was wide and circular, filled with floating platforms. Each platform shimmered like glass and drifted lazily in the air. On the far end, a golden crest fragment glowed faintly. Easy target — too easy.
Althaea extended a hand and murmured a levitation spell. A transparent bridge began to form… then shattered instantly. The shockwave nearly threw her back, but I caught her wrist before she stumbled.
Her cheeks flushed faintly. "Thank you," she said curtly, pulling free. "It's a feedback illusion. The bridge forms only when two mana signatures act together."
I raised an eyebrow. "Teamwork test?"
"Exactly."
We looked at each other for a long second.
Then she said, "Synchronize with me."
I let her take the lead, adjusting my mana output to match her pulse. Her control was exquisite — sharp but steady, like a harp string. The platforms trembled, then solidified. Step by step, we crossed.
Halfway through, an image of me appeared on the adjacent platform, smirking in perfect imitation.
Another Althaea mirrored beside it.
The illusions spoke simultaneously: "You're slowing down."
Althaea's jaw tightened. "Ignore them."
"Hard to do," I said, watching my double wave mockingly. "He's got my good side."
The illusions were a little too easy to see through — I couldn't even enjoy them properly.
She ignored my comment, focusing entirely on the rhythm. When we reached the center, the illusions dissolved into motes of gold. The crest fragment hovered above, waiting.
She reached for it — and the floor beneath her flickered.
Without thinking, I grabbed her arm and yanked her back just as a void opened beneath us. The air screamed as the illusion collapsed.
She stared at the empty space. "That was—"
"A secondary layer," I finished. "Triggered by contact."
"…You knew?"
"Of course."
"Then why didn't you say anything?"
I shrugged. "You looked like you were having fun."
I could've ended this in a minute, but where's the fun in that?
Her expression promised future violence. Still, she took the crest fragment with measured dignity, pretending she hadn't nearly fallen into an endless void.
I wonder how the others are doing.
I murmured, "Activate Omniscient."
The output was weaker than expected. "Oh, maybe the Principal included counter-spells," I muttered.
Well, I'd find out later.
---
The second floor was stranger.
It resembled an abandoned lecture hall filled with floating books and suspended chalkboards. Words rearranged themselves across the surfaces — equations, runes, fragments of poetry.
"The test of comprehension," Althaea muttered. "The hall reads our memories."
The chalkboards began showing phrases from past lessons. One read:
'Illusion feeds upon perception.'
Another whispered in Kael's voice, "If you can't distinguish imagination from reality, you've already lost."
The challenge was clear: find the false memory among truths.
I leaned casually against a table, scanning. "Seems easy enough."
Althaea frowned. "Not for normal people."
"Ah. Fortunately, I'm not normal."
She ignored that too.
We started sorting through the floating boards. Some were harmless — basic rune theory. Others whispered directly into the mind, trying to implant false confidence. Althaea worked quickly, isolating inconsistencies. Her precision impressed me.
But halfway through, she froze.
Her eyes unfocused — as if lost in something only she could see.
I caught the faint mana pattern instantly: an illusion creeping through her memory, trying to manifest as a vision of failure. It showed her a classroom of sneering faces, Kael saying, "You'll never match the older students."
I reached over and snapped my fingers before her eyes. The vision shattered like glass.
She blinked rapidly, regaining composure. "I— I lost focus for a second."
"It happens," I said. "To humans."
"You're insufferable."
"And you're fine now. So balance achieved."
Her silence afterward was eloquent.
---
Outside the tower, one professor said to Kael,
"A few of the Principal's containment spells are activating."
Kael frowned. "Are you sure?"
Another professor nodded. "He's right."
Kael said, "But only an SS-rank could trigger them. Are the students safe?"
The first professor replied, "Yes, they're fine."
---
We cleared the comprehension hall after nearly an hour, collecting the second crest fragment hidden inside a textbook that only appeared if one ignored the loudest voice in the room.
It was clever — rewarding clarity amidst chaos.
The final chamber waited above — reached through a spiral staircase that seemed to stretch forever. When we emerged, the architecture had changed completely. The walls were mirrors again, but this time the reflections lagged half a second behind.
In the center, the third crest fragment floated within a bubble of golden light.
Althaea narrowed her eyes. "Trap."
"Definitely."
"What kind?"
"Yes."
She exhaled sharply. "You're impossible."
"Accurate."
Still, she advanced cautiously, muttering diagnostic spells. Every reflection in the room began to move — each showing her from a slightly different angle, at different ages. One as a child clutching books. Another as a stern-looking adult. Another smiling faintly — something I'd never seen her do.
Her expression softened briefly. "Illusions of potential futures…"
"And regrets," I added.
The reflections turned toward me now — dozens of Elrics staring back, each with a faint smirk.
Some older, some darker.
One asked, "Still pretending to be the observer?"
I smiled faintly. "Always."
The reflection cracked — unable to maintain form — and disintegrated.
The room began collapsing around us, reflections merging and distorting.
Althaea shouted, "The exit's folding!"
"Then run faster," I said, grabbing her hand and pulling her through the nearest stable frame. The sensation was like running through liquid glass. We tumbled into open air — landing on a marble terrace outside the hall.
The moment we hit the ground, the bell tower rang in the distance. Midnight.
She caught her breath, looking back at the collapsing illusions. "Did we get it?"
I held up the crest fragment. "Yes."
Her lips parted slightly in surprise. "When—"
"During the chaos. Reflex."
She looked torn between irritation and relief. "You're impossible."
"I get that a lot."
Well, not really… I don't have that many friends. Neither did Adrian.
---
When we returned to the assembly ground, a few teams had already finished. Alaric and Roderick were there, dusty but composed. Thalia and Liora arrived moments later, serious as ever.
Seraphine and Sylwen were nowhere to be seen yet.
Professor Kael stood by the crystals again, smiling faintly. "You made good time."
Althaea folded her arms. "Good, not best?"
Kael only smiled wider. "You'll see tomorrow."
I caught the faint pulse of another team emerging — laughter echoing across the courtyard. Sylwen's voice, light and confident.
She and Seraphine looked utterly unruffled.
Althaea muttered, "I don't like that look."
I smirked. "Me neither."
It was rare to see Sylwen enjoying anything — maybe even laughing.
Fans were really happy to see her acting like a normal student for once. Though, it was mostly thanks to Seraphine.
They were the only pair that remained the same as in the original novel.
---
That night, I lay on my dorm bed staring at the ceiling.
Althaea's concentration still replayed in my mind — precise, determined, never once faltering except for that brief illusion moment.
She'd guided us perfectly, and I hadn't interfered. For once, I'd simply played fair.
Maybe that was more fun than winning easily.
Outside, the moonlight shimmered faintly over the academy rooftops.
For the first time in weeks, there was no tension, no cult symbols, no danger. Just silence.
I let my eyes close.
"Tomorrow," I murmured, "we'll see who the real victors are."