The night had descended upon the Academy not like an ordinary blanket, but like a heavy lead plate. The massive seals atop the towers glowed as they always did—pure white, flawless, and rhythmic. Like a giant, tireless heart that had beaten without a single skip for a thousand years.
Hyoga was on the terrace. His hands were pressed against the cold stone railing as he watched the courtyard below. The groups of students had already begun to disperse. Occasionally, he caught whispers carried up by the wind, but the voices were distant now. After yesterday's incident, no one wanted to be near the building where he was housed. The isolation had begun.
Kagetsu was within him, but he was silent. More silent than he had ever been.
This sudden stillness made Hyoga's stomach churn. "What happened?" he asked internally.
No answer came. It was as if Kagetsu were holding his breath, listening for something.
Right then, a sound rose from the Academy's main tower. A thin, metallic ringing. It wasn't the familiar, deep melody that signaled the end of classes or the return to dormitories. It was a high-pitched, jarring, and ear-piercing sound, as if a giant hammer had struck a massive iron pipe.
In the courtyard below, several walking students froze in their tracks. They all looked up at the sky, toward the main tower, at the same time.
One of the seals on the tower shuddered. It wasn't an optical illusion; that flawless white light flickered for a second, turned dull, and a line—like a pitch-black, capillary vein—streaked through its center.
It lasted only a moment. Long enough for a blink. But Hyoga had seen it clearly.
"That was me," he whispered to himself. "The thing in my hand did that."
Kagetsu finally spoke. His voice was stripped of its usual mocking tone, replaced by an ice-cold seriousness. "No. That wasn't you."
The heavy wooden doors of the main building swung open with a great crash. Two instructors rushed into the courtyard, the hems of their robes fluttering as they moved with frantic steps. They, too, were staring up at the tower. They spoke among themselves in short, sharp, panic-stricken bursts. One instructor raised his hand, attempting a communication spell, but only a few weak sparks tumbled from his fingertips.
A second after, the second ringing came.
This time it was much longer than the first, almost like a groan.
And the tower light truly went out.
Completely.
For the first time, the massive, ever-shining structure at the heart of the Academy was plunged into pitch-black darkness. Chaos erupted in the courtyard instantly. Students began running in all directions, colliding with one another. Some tried to form light orbs in their hands, but the mana flow in the air was distorted. The energy was wavy, sticky, and heavy. Spells hung in the air and then flickered out.
Hyoga felt a sudden pressure in his chest. His breath hitched. The seal on the back of his right hand began to tingle and heat up, as if waking from a slumber.
"It's a sync-slip," Kagetsu said quickly. "The grid's center line has become unstable. The system is collapsing."
"I didn't do anything," Hyoga insisted, gripping the railing tighter.
"I know. I told you. The rot had already begun."
The third ringing tore through the courtyard. It was an alarm.
The red emergency lights around the tower flickered on. It wasn't the color of blood; it was more like rust—sickly and wavering. In the Academy's history, these lights had never been seen on, except during training drills.
In the rusty light, Riku appeared at the far end of the courtyard, flanked by two other third-year students. He looked up from the shadows toward the terrace where Hyoga stood. Their eyes locked.
"This is because of you!" Riku shouted, his voice loud enough to drown out the panic in the courtyard. "What the hell did you do up there?!"
Hyoga grit his teeth. "I'm just standing here, you idiot!"
At that exact moment, the stone floor beneath his feet shook slightly.
Fine, web-like cracks appeared on the marble courtyard surrounding the main tower. But these weren't physical cracks breaking the stone. Deep in the Academy's foundation, the energy lines that were supposed to flow below were vomiting onto the surface. The current, normally pure and orderly, had now shifted direction and was leaking out.
A student's scream rang out. It was so high-pitched that Hyoga's ears rang.
The energy line passing under the boy's foot had suddenly turned black. The mana current had begun to flow in reverse—upward. A black mist curling around the boy's legs pulled him down instantly. The student collapsed to his knees, clutching his throat. He was suffocating, but not from a lack of air; his lungs were filling with toxic, rotted mana.
Hyoga didn't hesitate. There was no time to think. He leaped from the terrace into the courtyard.
He landed hard, his knees aching, but he didn't lose his balance. He bolted through the cloud of dust, running straight toward the kneeling boy.
Riku faltered for a second when he saw him. "Don't go near him! Get back!"
Hyoga didn't even hear him. He knelt beside the boy. The student's eyes were wide with terror, but his pupils couldn't focus; they kept rolling upward. The air around them wavered like steam rising from hot asphalt.
"The current has reversed," Kagetsu warned. His voice echoed in Hyoga's mind. "The grid is failing from the center outward. This isn't an individual anomaly; the system itself is vomiting."
"How do I stop it?" Hyoga asked, not knowing where to put his hands.
"You can't stop it. But you can stabilize it. Overpower it."
Hyoga pressed his right hand—the one with the seal—directly onto the black line on the marble floor. The seal on his hand flared with heat instantly.
Riku shouted from a few steps away. "Are you crazy? Get back!"
But it was too late. Hyoga pushed his dense, dark energy outward. It wasn't an explosion like the one during the duel. On the contrary, it was like throwing a very heavy blanket over a roaring fire. A controlled, crushing pressure.
The black line resisted Hyoga's hand for a moment, then slowly retracted from the boy's leg. The trembling mana flow slowed. The reverse current that had been erupting wildly was halted and pushed back underground, back where it belonged.
The boy collapsed to the ground, taking a deep, rattling breath. He was coughing, but he was alive.
A deathly silence suddenly fell over the courtyard. Students, instructors, Riku... everyone was frozen. Only the sound of the boy's coughing could be heard.
Hyoga slowly lifted his hand from the ground. The floor looked normal. No cracks, no black light. But the massive tower was still in zifiri darkness.
Kagetsu whispered from within. "Interesting."
"What's interesting?"
"Against the system's instability, you became a fixed point. You dropped the anchor."
Riku approached with cautious steps. Anger was still on his face, but beneath that anger, something far stronger was visible: doubt.
"What did you do?" Riku asked, his voice trembling.
"I saved him," Hyoga said, standing up.
"What if you were the one who triggered this breakdown in the first place?"
Hyoga's patience was wearing thin. He looked Riku in the eye. "If I triggered it, why would I risk my life to fix what I started? Think logically."
Riku couldn't answer. His lips parted, but no sound came out.
Just then, in the sky aligned with the tower, a second anomaly erupted.
The extinguished light of the tower returned for a moment. But it wasn't its usual pure white. It was a pale, dead gray—like a heap of old ash.
And right in the center of that gray light, a silhouette formed.
It had no physical body. It was merely a concentrated projection of energy hanging in the air. But its shape was clear. It resembled a human form. Long, excessively thin arms and a vague, faceless head.
Everyone in the courtyard looked back up.
Mei whispered from behind Riku with a shaky voice. "That... that doesn't look like anything we were told about in classes."
Kagetsu's voice came out very low this time, almost a whisper even in Hyoga's mind. "This is new. This is... unexpected."
The silhouette moved. It wasn't walking; it was gliding. It began to descend slowly from the top of the tower toward the courtyard. As it passed through the air, the energy lines around it turned black for a second and then back to gray.
One of the instructors finally came to his senses. "Protection formation! Now!" he shouted.
Two instructors came together and joined their hands. A golden shield began to form in the middle of the courtyard. But the mana flow was still so unstable that the shield cracked like glass and dissipated, scattering sparks into the air.
The silhouette didn't care. It passed over the instructors and suddenly changed direction.
And it stopped directly in front of Hyoga.
Hyoga held his breath. The thing before him had no face or eyes, but he felt in every cell of his body that it was looking at him—focusing exactly on him.
The seal on his hand began to throb violently. It was painful now.
Riku stumbled backward. "Look! It's reacting to him! That thing came for him!"
Hyoga struggled to keep himself from falling to his knees. The pressure on his shoulders wasn't physical; it was a mental crushing. It felt as if an invisible hand had reached inside his skull, stirring his memory, his intent, and his identity.
Kagetsu gave a sharp, urgent warning for the first time. "Don't make a connection, Hyoga. Close your mind! Do not make eye contact!"
"It doesn't even have eyes!" Hyoga shouted inside himself.
"It's a perceptual lock! It's trying to read you!"
Hyoga bowed his head and fixed his eyes on the ground. He was clenching his teeth so hard his jaw began to ache. But the pressure didn't decrease; on the contrary, it intensified. The air around him had turned ice-cold. He could see his own breath misting.
The silhouette closed the distance. They were now face to face, just a step apart.
Then, something unexpected happened.
The silhouette suddenly flickered. Its image wavered like television static.
The heavy, crushing air around Hyoga flattened out instantly. It was as if two very powerful, different radio frequencies had collided in the air, and one had violently pushed the other back.
The silhouette was thrown backward. It skidded several meters, its shape distorting. Then, it was rapidly pulled upward toward the tower and dissolved into the gray light.
Kagetsu made a sound like a long exhale. He chose his words slowly and carefully. "That thing... it wasn't attacking. It was measuring you."
"What does that mean? Why would it measure me?"
"The Academy's grid isn't just an energy flow, Hyoga. It is also a massive surveillance and filtering system."
One of the instructors in the courtyard was shouting into a radio-like communication stone, drenched in sweat. "To the central room! Direct all units to the central room! Now!"
The gray light in the tower suddenly went out completely.
This time, it wasn't a momentary break. It was real, absolute darkness.
And within that darkness, an echo was heard in Hyoga's mind. It wasn't a physical voice; it was a sensation carved directly into his brain. It wasn't a word, but it carried a very clear meaning.
Recognition.
It was as if an entire system had found him among millions of files and crossed his name out with a red pen.
Riku was trying to help the student on the ground to his feet, but his eyes were still on Hyoga with fear. "This... this is no longer a coincidence."
Hyoga slowly straightened up and brushed himself off. "I'm thinking the exact same thing, Riku."
Kagetsu's voice echoed from the corners of his mind. There was a tension in it now. "You aren't the only anomaly anymore, Hyoga."
"What do you mean?"
"The Academy... this system itself has started producing anomalies. Or..." he paused briefly. "It's vomiting back something it suppressed a long time ago."
Instructors began to rush students toward the buildings. "Everyone to the dormitories! Clear the courtyard!"
From the distance, at the main gates, heavy metal clangs rose one after another. The giant gates were being locked. The elegant towers of the Academy were being sealed off from the outside world by thick barriers.
This was an official lockdown. Quarantine. For the first time in its thousand-year history, the Academy was closing itself off—not against a danger coming from the outside, but against a danger leaking from within.
Hyoga stayed where he was. While everyone was scurrying, he just stared at the tower.
Riku paused for a second before running toward the building. His voice was trembling. "The Council can't hide this. Whatever that thing was, it looked at you. Tomorrow morning, everyone will be interrogated. Including you."
"I know," Hyoga said in a whisper.
As Riku pulled away, Mei caught up to him. She turned back and looked at Hyoga one last time. There wasn't just fear in her eyes. "Maybe," she murmured to herself, "that thing retreated because it was afraid of you."
The sentence hung in the dark air.
Kagetsu laughed softly in his mind—not with mockery, but with genuine surprise. "Fear. A very interesting hypothesis."
Hyoga looked at the sky. The stars were brighter than ever because the tower was no longer competing with them. Riku was right. He was socially isolated. Everyone suspected him.
But the real thought nagging at his mind was different. If the Academy's system wasn't just a defense mechanism... If that gray silhouette had measured him... It hadn't been an attack.
It had been a selection. Like a recruitment interview.
As Hyoga took his first step toward his own room, Kagetsu whispered his final sentence:
"Hyoga... We aren't trapped inside. They are trapped inside with us."
And the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind Hyoga with a resounding thud.