Chapter 7 Whispers Beyond the Sky
The evening after his S-Rank evaluation, the academy hummed with a new, electric tension. Lyon could feel it—the weight of countless stares, the whispers that trailed him like ghosts. He sought solitude in the mana-gardens, where the hum of ambient Aether was a familiar comfort. But beneath it, a new frequency grated against his senses—a static, cold and alien, that made the Origin Seal beneath his tunic pulse in a low, warning rhythm.
"Found you," a voice chirped, shattering the silence.
Kaela Rune stood there, her data-pad already glowing, her expression a mix of scientific curiosity and sheer impudence. "You know, most people would be celebrating their sudden fame. Not hiding in the shrubbery."
"I prefer the company of plants," Lyon replied, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. "They're less noisy."
"Right." She plopped down beside him, not waiting for an invitation. "The faculty network is buzzing. They've officially classified your power as 'Anomalous-Type Aether,' which is academic code for 'we have no idea what this is.' The prevailing theory is a latent Origin-gene, reacting to... well, something." She peered at him over her glasses. "Care to comment?"
Before he could deflect, a different, far more urgent sound tore through the evening calm.
It wasn't the academy's standard alarm. This was a deeper, resonant chord that vibrated in the bones—the sound of the world itself groaning under stress.
[ACADEMY-WIDE ALERT: Catastrophic Spatial Anomaly Detected]
[Location: Western Geomantic Leyline Nexus]
[All Combat-Capable Faculty and Alpha-Level Students Report to Defensive Grids]
Kaela shot to her feet, her data-pad now showing frantic energy readings. "A spatial tear? On a leyline nexus? That's not possible without... impossible!"
Lyon was already moving, his System interface flashing.
[Warning: Extradimensional Incursion Imminent]
[Energy Signature Correlates with 'Watcher' Presence]
They sprinted to the western observatory, joining a gathering crowd of elite students and grim-faced professors. Professor Mirelle Dorne was already there, her voice a blade of calm command. "Report!"
"Massive energy build-up! The pattern... Professor, it's a forced quantum tunnel. Something is punching through from the other side!"
Lyon's gaze was locked on the sky. The air above the forest was writhing, reality itself folding like cheap parchment. And then, with a soundless shriek that was felt rather than heard, it ripped open.
A wound of void-black and sickly violet tore across the heavens. From it emerged the invaders. They were not creatures of flesh, but constructs of polished, shifting obsidian and cold iron, their forms a blasphemy against natural geometry. Crimson sensor-lights scanned the land like malevolent eyes.
"Gateseepers," Professor Mirelle whispered, a rare tremor of dread in her voice. "The ancient texts... they're real."
The constructs hovered for a moment, then unleashed a volley of dark energy beams that slammed into the academy's primary barrier. The shield flickered violently, runes overloading and dying. The ground shook.
"Barrier integrity failing!" an officer yelled.
"Channel all auxiliary power!" Mirelle commanded, but the panic in her eyes said she knew it was futile.
Lyon didn't think. He acted. He stepped to the edge of the tower, his hand outstretched not to attack, but to reinforce. He didn't cast a spell; he issued a command to reality itself.
He visualized the barrier not as a wall, but as a living membrane. Where the alien beams struck, he didn't add more power—he imposed a new law: "This space shall not break."
The Dominion energy, the twin forces of Creation and Destruction, flowed from him. A web of black and gold filigree, beautiful and terrifying, spread across the faltering shield. Where it touched, the shield didn't just stabilize; it became absolute. The next volley of beams didn't just fail; they were unmade, their energy unraveling into harmless light before they could even touch the dome.
A stunned silence fell over the observatory.
Professor Mirelle stared at him, her professional composure shattered. "He's not powering the barrier... he's rewriting its fundamental properties."
Kaela looked from her data-pad to Lyon and back, her jaw slack. "The energy readings... they're not adding to the shield's matrix. They're replacing it locally with something... inviolable."
As quickly as it had come, the incursion ended. The rift collapsed in on itself, and the obsidian constructs withdrew into the void. The immediate threat was over.
But the silence they left behind was heavier than any explosion.
Professor Mirelle turned to Lyon, her expression a complex map of awe, fear, and grim necessity. "You didn't just save us, Lyon. You declared war on whatever is on the other side. They felt you. They know what you are now."
Lyon finally lowered his hand, the faint glow of Dominion fading from his eyes. He could still feel the echo of that cold, alien consciousness, now sharpened with a new, unmistakable intent—not just observation, but recognition.
The whisper in his mind was no longer a question. It was a statement.
We see you, Origin-Bearer.