The great clock of the Academy tower struck ten times. A sound swallowed by the open courtyard, but here, in the depths of the earth, it was like a faint pulse running through the stone walls.
The spiraling stone stairs seemed to descend into the heart of the earth. With every step Maria took downward, the warm, pleasant air of the dormitory gave way to a damp, suffocating cold.
This was no longer part of the Academy; this was where the Academy began to decay.
The silence of the underground corridors was not a peaceful silence; it was a silence heavy with pressure, as if thousands of tons of earth above their heads were screaming.
All the sounds of the world had faded, replaced by the echo of Maria's boots striking the black stone steps and the eerie hissing that drifted every few seconds from the thick copper pipes jutting from the ceiling—like the breathing of a metal beast.
Maria gripped the strap of her backpack tighter. The day's classes and the mental strain weighed on her eyelids, but the adrenaline from fear and survival instinct kept her awake.
The Spider's Nest... Julian was right. It doesn't smell of death here; it smells of something worse… something that erases you.
She reached the end of the corridor.
A massive seamless metal door without a handle, blocked the way. The surface of the door was covered with complex carvings of magic circuits pulsating with a weak, flashing red light, like inflamed veins.
Maria stood still.
This door was the boundary between normal student life and Varon's dark world. If she crossed it, something in her life would shift permanently.
She took a deep breath, synchronizing her heartbeat with the rhythm of the door's pulse. She clenched her fist and knocked firmly and decisively on the cold metal twice.
Bang... Bang...
Silence stretched for several seconds.
Then, the sound of heavy gears turning and hydraulic locks opening was heard from within the wall. Mechanical sounds—dry, grinding, wrong in a place built on magic.
Creeeak...
The door opened inward with an ear-splitting groan.
The air that rushed out burned Maria's face. A smell like a mixture of hot metal, pungent alcohol, and something sweet and nauseating... like decay poorly disguised by chemicals.
Maria stepped inside.
The laboratory was bathed in artificial white light shining from ceiling crystals; a light so stark it left nowhere to hide.
A continuous, low hum filled the space; the sound of mana flowing under high pressure in thick glass tubes on the walls.
Everything felt oversized, sterile, and metallic. Shiny dissection tables, cylindrical glass containers where green liquids boiled and contained body parts of unknown creatures; and diagrams drawn with frantic, chaotic lines on blackboards.
At the end of the hall, behind a desk covered with a multitude of mechanical parts, tiny gears, and mana crystals, stood Varon.
He wore a long white coat that looked pale and shroud-like under the white light. His back was to Maria, and he was adjusting a delicate, glowing filament inside a metal box with tweezers.
His hands moved with surgical precision—steady, almost mechanical; like a surgeon performing a difficult operation.
Maria opened her mouth to greet him, but Varon's cold, soulless voice cut through the air first.
Without turning around, and without stopping his work even for a moment, he said:
"You're two minutes late."
His voice echoed in the vast space of the laboratory.
"My time is expensive, Maria, More than you can afford. There won't be a second time."
Maria stood still, waiting for instructions. In her mind, she was preparing herself: complex maps, analysis of magical circuits, or maybe dissecting a monster.
Varon threw the tweezers onto the metal table. It made a dry clatter.
Without turning, he pointed his hand toward the right wall. Where hundreds of small and large wooden and metal boxes were piled up like trash.
"See over there?"
Maria looked. A mountain of mana crystals, oxidized copper wires, and broken ceramic pieces.
"Yes, Master."
"Sort them."
Maria blinked.
"Excuse me?"
Varon finally turned his head. The light of his magnifying goggles, which were on his forehead, flashed.
"Mana crystals are categorized by 'vibration spectrum', not color. Put the ones that buzz into lead containers. Put the silent ones into wooden boxes. Separate the burnt metals. Put the usable parts on table number three."
He returned to his work.
"You have until morning. If you mistakenly put an unstable crystal next to the others and it explodes... I'll make you pay for it with your corpse. Start."
Maria stared at the back of Varon's head for a few seconds. She ground her teeth together.
Are you kidding? I risked my life, neutralized your trap, and made a deal with you to become... a janitor?
A sense of humiliation boiled in her veins like acid. She was a strategist, a high-ranking bodyguard, not a warehouse worker.
But she had to prove herself to Varon to get what she wanted.
There was no choice.
She put her bag in a corner, rolled up her sleeves, and went toward the mountain of magical trash.
She picked up the first crystal.
It was cold and rough. Its color was dark purple, but when she brought it close to her ear, she heard a faint buzz.
Vibration... unstable.
She carefully placed it in the lead container.
She picked up the second one. Clear blue. Silent and calm.
Stable.
She started her work. Ten minutes... one hour... two hours.
Dust settled on her clothes and her fingers turned black, but gradually, the initial anger gave way to curiosity.
This wasn't trash. It was evidence of failure.
She picked up a ceramic piece. Thin, intertwined silver lines spread across it like capillaries.
Maria paused.
These are... like circuit boards from my previous world.
The crystals were like circuit components, and these lines were like current paths.
Her gaze swept over the laboratory.
This isn't a lab... it's a factory that produces magic.
The sound of crystals clinking together had taken on a monotonous rhythm. Maria's hands were blackened, but her mind was clearer than ever.
She picked up a complex piece. On its ceramic surface, hundreds of microscopic silver lines were etched, converging in a center. This level of delicacy for something disposable was strange.
She broke the heavy silence of the laboratory.
"All these circuits... what are they for?"
Varon, busy adjusting a lens on the other side of the room, didn't even lift his head.
"Your voice disturbs my focus. Do your job."
Maria held up the piece, even though she knew Varon wasn't looking.
"If mages can create fire and wind with their minds, why go through all this trouble to build this 'metal junk'?"
Varon's hand stopped.
Silence lingered—until his dry voice cut through it.
"Because mages are lazy."
Varon turned around and removed his magnifying goggles from his face.
"And stupid. And limited."
He picked up a half-built piece from his desk and held it toward Maria.
"Magic means combining 'fuel' (mana) and 'blueprint' (visualization). The more complex the magic, the harder the visualization. One moment of distraction, one miscalculation in the mind... and boom. In the best case, the magic doesn't form, and in the worst case, well... their brains get fried."
He ran his bony finger over the silver lines of the circuit.
"We take the 'visualization' from those idiots' brains and put it inside this circuit. These lines? They are 'frozen visualization'."
He slammed the piece onto the table.
"With this equipment, even a dim-witted soldier can throw a fireball without knowing what 'combustion' is. The user only provides mana... like fuel. The magical equipment does the rest."
Maria stared at the piece in her hand. Her eyes shone.
Automation... this is programming. They write code, but with silver and crystal.
Varon turned his back again and busied himself.
"Now that you understand, talk less and work more. Those red crystals are still left."
Maria closed the last lead box and wiped her black hands with a cloth. The mountain of trash had disappeared, and now everything was sorted and labeled like an obsessive pharmacy.
She straightened her back. The popping of her vertebrae was heard in the silence.
"Finished."
Varon, standing behind the main desk, didn't even glance at the sorted shelves. For him, workers were tools that had to work; there was no praise involved.
He gestured with his hand.
"Come here."
Maria stepped forward.
On the metal table sat a strange device. A black stone slab etched with thousands of intertwined silver lines. In the center of the slab was a small glass container, inside of which floated a black, corrupt spherical piece (probably the mana core of a magical creature).
Varon pushed up his magnifying goggles and placed his hands on both sides of the table.
"Think I'm a madman who just likes tearing things apart?"
Maria remained silent. The answer was yes, but she didn't say it.
Varon sneered.
"Now see why I hit a dead end. See why ordinary 'engineering' doesn't work here."
He placed his hand on the control panel and injected his own mana into the circuit.
Bzzzzzz...
The sound of the device changed. From a quiet hum to a jarring crackling noise.
The silver lines on the stone lit up, but their light wasn't white; it was dark purple.
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed.
The white, clear light of the laboratory began to tremble. As if someone was sucking the air out of the room. The shadows under the table and in the corners of the room began to move like a thick, living liquid. They no longer obeyed the light; they were hungry.
The light from the ceiling crystals stretched, bent, and dimmed.
Maria felt her chest compressing. The air had become heavy, like the air before a storm, but a hundred times thicker. Gravity seemed to have increased.
"Watch."
Varon increased the pressure.
From the center of the device, where that mana core was located, black, oily smoke poured out.
The smoke rose and began to take shape.
A phantom.
A formless, trembling phantom trying to mimic the form of that escaped creature (Shadow Stalker). Claws of darkness formed, but their edges were blurry.
The device began to shake.
The silver lines cracked with a high-pitched scream.
Rattle... rattle... rattle...