For a fraction of a second, the roar of the arena faded. Arion wasn't twenty-two years old anymore. He was twenty-one, standing on that desolate hill when his terrifying master had grabbed him by the collar and blasted off into the sky to teach him ancient magic. The visceral memory of his own pathways shattering was as fresh as yesterday. He remembered screaming in agony, his internal veins burning and freezing simultaneously as raw mana violently evacuated his body.
"You kicked the door open without a hinge, idiot boy," his master's rough voice echoed in his memory. "Now the blizzard is inside the house. Learn to close it, or die."
Snap.
Arion was back in the tunnel. Sebastian was still smiling, but his lips were turning a dangerous, dead shade of blue. His jaw was locked tight, his teeth chattering so violently he couldn't finish his sentence.
He didn't close it, Arion realized, the blood running cold in his own veins. Sebastian had successfully forced the raw mana out, but he had absolutely no idea how to turn it off. The twelfth word of a traditional chant didn't just fire the spell—it safely closed the caster's internal circuit.
Arion closed the distance in a single, terrifyingly fast step and grabbed Sebastian hard by the shoulder.
"Arion? What are you—" Sebastian gasped sharply, his eyes going wide as a heavy, crushing pressure settled over his heart. "Ah... my chest..."
Arion couldn't permanently fix a shattered circuit; he didn't have his master's skill. So, Arion gritted his teeth and shoved a heavy, aggressively blunt pulse of his own abnormally dense mana straight into Sebastian's chest, using his own energy as a physical cork slammed into a burst pipe.
"Medics?" Exousia asked, her smile finally faltering as she saw the deadly serious look on Arion's face. "Arion, what's wrong? I'll call a medical mage—"
"No," Arion barked, his voice cracking like a whip.
Exousia froze.
"Standard medics will kill him," Arion said rapidly, hauling Sebastian's good arm over his shoulder and supporting the blonde boy's weight. "They're trained to treat normal alignment. They'll look at the frost on his arm and cast a healing spell to warm his blood. But his pathways aren't just cold. They're cracked wide open."
Arion looked at her, his golden eyes dark and urgent. "If you pour boiling water onto a frozen glass, what happens? It shatters. If a medic shoves heat magic into a leaking ice circuit, his heart will literally explode."
Exousia went perfectly pale. "Then what do we do?!"
"We go to the top," Arion said grimly.
He didn't wait for her. Carrying the suddenly lethargic scholar, Arion broke into a sprint, dragging Sebastian straight toward the private stairwell leading to the High Faculty Lounge.
"I feel... oddly hollow..." Sebastian mumbled, his eyelids starting to droop as the internal freeze finally began to numb his nervous system.
At the top of the stairs, Arion kicked the heavy oak doors so hard the iron hinges shrieked, the doors flying open and slamming against the inner walls with a deafening CRASH.
Inside, the other professors, Teacher Sophia, and the impeccably dressed Academy Secretary all jumped.
"What is the meaning of this?!" the Senior Theory Professor bellowed. "A student?! In the High Faculty Lounge?!"
"I need a high-tier circuit seal," Arion demanded, stepping right past the threshold into the plush room as he supported the fading Ambrose heir. "He bypassed the binding words. His internal loop is stuck open. He's bleeding out."
The Academy Secretary stepped forward. She did not yell. She maintained her polite, shark-like smile, but her eyes were sharp and calculating.
"Arion," the Secretary said smoothly, her voice dropping to a dangerously sweet pitch. "Do not use your presence to cause an unnecessary panic during a regulated tournament. Sebastian merely has a severe shiver burn. Take him to the infirmary."
Arion stared at her. He looked at the Senior Theory Professor, who was sneering at him.
They can't see it, Arion realized, a cold wave of disgust washing over him.
Because they were traditional, traditional mages who relied entirely on the crutch of twelve-word contracts, their eyes were trained only to see the physical results of magic. They couldn't perceive the invisible, terrifying river of raw mana currently leaking out of Sebastian's core.
"He doesn't need that," Arion growled, his golden eyes narrowing. "He needs a Master to manually close his pathways, or his core is going to shatter."
"I will not tolerate this disruption," the theory professor snapped, stepping forward. "Guards! Remove this heretic—"
"Sebastian," Arion interrupted, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly calm, absolute command.
Sebastian groaned weakly, leaning heavily against Arion.
"Cast a basic light spell," Arion ordered, gripping the boy's shoulder to keep him awake. "The weakest one you know. Use the full chant. Do it right now."
Teacher Sophia, who had been watching silently from her chair, suddenly sat up straight. She knew Arion wasn't a fool. Her eyes widened as she realized what he was trying to prove.
Sebastian trusted Arion implicitly. Despite his fading consciousness, the blonde scholar raised a trembling finger.
"Sto ónoma..." Sebastian whispered, his voice barely audible. "...tou theoú tou fotós..." (In the name of the God of Light...)
The professors scoffed, insulted that a student was casting in their presence.
"...tha sou diatáxo ti lámsi." (...I command the glow.)
A small, glowing yellow magic circle appeared in the air Sebastian's finger.
The Secretary opened her mouth to speak—but the words died in her throat.
The magic circle didn't stabilize.
Because Sebastian's internal "door" was completely stuck open, his core had absolutely no pressure left to sustain the spell. The moment the circle formed, it immediately began to violently dread out.
The glowing geometric lines flickered, unraveling like bloody threads. The magical light literally bled out into the empty air, draining away in a horrific display of absolute magical failure. The circle didn't explode. It just choked, starved, and quietly crumbled into dead, grey ash before the spell could even manifest.
The lounge went dead silent.
The polite smile completely melted off the Academy Secretary's face. All the color drained from her cheeks, leaving behind the same look of pure, unadulterated terror she had worn the day Arion touched the Grand Orb.
In the traditional world, a chanted circle dying in mid-air meant only one thing. It meant the caster's core was completely empty. It meant the boy's very life force was evaporating into the atmosphere.
"His core..." the Secretary whispered, her voice trembling as her absolute composure finally broke. "It's... it's completely exposed..."
Arion let the dead ash fall to the floor. He looked up at the highest authorities of the Academy, his eyes burning with quiet, absolute fury.
"Now that you can finally see it," Arion said softly. "Are you going to fix him, or are we going to let the smartest kid in your school die in your office?"
For three agonizing seconds, there was absolute silence.
Then, the shock broke.
"You!" the Senior Theory Professor shrieked. "You did this! You corrupted the boy!"
Arion didn't even blink. He shifted his stance, gripping Sebastian's freezing shoulder tighter, and shoved another blunt, heavy pulse of his own dense mana into the blonde boy's chest. Sebastian let out a weak, hollow wheeze as the temporary "plug" settled over his shattered core.
"You taught him some forbidden, heretical technique!" the professor bellowed, stepping forward. "You intentionally sabotaged the heir of the Ambrose family to eliminate your competition! Guards! Apprehend this assassin immediately!"
"Are you deaf, or just stupid?" Arion asked, his voice deadpan and flat.
The professor choked on his outrage. "Excuse me?!"
"I didn't teach him anything," Arion said, his golden eyes locking onto the furious man. "He's a genius. He figured it out just by watching me. He logically substituted the twelve words of binding to force the spell out." Arion looked down at the shivering boy in his arms. "But sometimes logic doesn't give you an iron spine. He figured out how to kick the door open, but he had no idea the house would catch fire."
"Preposterous!" the professor spat. "If his core is truly open, his internal pathways should be completely disintegrated! How is he even standing? And how could you possibly know the internal mechanics of a shattered circuit?!"
"Because," Arion said softly, the air pressure in the room dropping slightly, "my core shattered exactly like this when I was twenty-one."
The shouting instantly stopped.
The Academy Secretary, who was still staring at the ash on the floor, slowly raised her head.
"You can't learn ancient magic from a board," Arion explained brutally, ignoring the horrified stares of the faculty. "You learn it by breaking. But you only survive the break if you have a safety net. You only survive if you have a Master standing right next to you—someone with enough monstrous, overwhelming power to manually grab your rampant mana and physically shove your soul back into your body while you figure out how to close the door yourself."
Arion looked at the frost creeping up Sebastian's neck. "He jumped off a cliff, but there was no one at the bottom to catch him."
"A Master?" the Theory Professor scoffed, though his voice wavered. "What Master could accomplish such a feat? To manually seal a blown core without a chanted contract is a myth! Name this heretic! Who taught you this madness?!"
Arion let out a long, tired sigh. "I don't know her name."
The professors stared at him. "You... you don't know your own Master's name?"
Arion shook his head. "She drops in completely at random. Sometimes every few months, sometimes a year. She drags me out to a freezing mountain peak or a desolate wasteland, beats me half to death with ancient magic, and forces my core back together when I inevitably blow myself up."
To Arion, she was just his crazy, abusive, absentee teacher.
But to the Academy Secretary and the Principal, who had been standing silently near the back window, Arion's words were a death knell.
The polished, shark-like facade completely melted off the Secretary's face. She turned her head, slowly locking eyes with the Principal.
They both remembered their encounter perfectly.
They remembered standing in the shadowy office. They remembered the terrifying woman who had threatened them with her wrath to force them to pass Arion. She had scoffed at their ethical codes, mocked the aristocrats for just eating pastries and pretending to be important, and then vanished before the Principal could even scream.
The Secretary's breath hitched. Her heart hammered violently against her ribs.
It's her, the Secretary realized, a wave of absolute, soul-crushing dread washing over her.
They had wondered why this person was so impossibly strong. They had wondered why the Grand Orb had turned pitch-black in his presence. Now, the terrifying truth was standing right in front of them. Arion wasn't just some talented rogue. He was the direct creation of that nameless, apocalyptic monster.
And they had just threatened to arrest him.
"Secretary?" the Theory Professor asked, noticing her sudden, sickly pallor. "Madam Secretary, are you alright? We must detain this boy at once and—"
"Shut up," the Secretary whispered, her voice trembling with barely contained terror.
The Theory Professor blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"I said shut your mouth!" the Secretary hissed, her composure completely shattering.
Before the professor could respond, Sebastian let out a sharp, agonizing gasp.
His back arched violently against Arion's arm. The thick layer of white frost on his skin suddenly surged, cracking loudly as it spread past his collarbone and reached his jawline.
Arion gritted his teeth, his own muscles straining as he desperately tried to push more mana into the blonde boy's chest. But it wasn't enough. The thermal pressure inside Sebastian was building too fast.
"My plug is failing," Arion warned, his voice tight with exertion. He looked up, his golden eyes blazing as he snapped the terrified authorities back to the brutal reality of the moment.
"Look, we can talk about my crazy master later!" Arion barked, his voice echoing off the plush walls of the lounge. "Right now, this kid has about a few minutes before his heart turns into a block of ice! So stop staring at me and tell me—which one of you is actually strong enough to seal his core?!"
Arion's shout hung in the dead silence of the High Faculty Lounge, vibrating with absolute desperation.
The Senior Theory Professor took a terrified step backward. Teacher Sophia covered her mouth, her eyes wide. None of them moved. None of them knew what to do. Traditional magic relied on order, contracts, and foundations. What was happening to Sebastian was pure, unadulterated chaos.
"Step aside, Arion," a heavy, authoritative voice commanded.
The Principal of the Academy stepped out from the shadows near the back window. His face was grave, his aristocratic features pulled tight with grim realization. He didn't bother scolding Arion for his tone.
"Principal," Arion grunted, his arms trembling as he held Sebastian upright. "Do it fast. I can't hold this plug much longer."
The Principal raised both hands. His aura flared—a refined, incredibly precise wave of traditional magic that commanded respect. He didn't trace a single circle; he drew three overlapping, complex chant seals in the air simultaneously.
"Sto ónoma tis táxis..." the Principal chanted, his voice resonating with deep, ancient power. (In the name of order...) "...kleíste tis pýles!" (...seal the gates!)
The three glowing rings shot forward, expanding and wrapping around Sebastian's freezing body. They tightened like a vice, attempting to force the boy's leaking core shut.
For a second, the frost stopped.
Then, with a sound like shattering glass, the Principal's high-tier sealing spell violently snapped.
The golden rings didn't just fail; they completely disintegrated into useless sparks as the raw. The Principal staggered backward, clutching his chest as the rebound of his own broken spell hit him.
"It didn't catch!" the Principal gasped, his eyes wide with disbelief. "The spell... it just slid right off!"
"Then it is impossible," the Principal whispered, the horrifying truth dawning on the highest authority in the Academy. He looked at his shaking hands. "My own magic cannot seal a chantless void."
"Don't give me that!" Arion snarled. "Fix him!"
Sebastian let out a horrifying, rattling exhale. His eyes rolled completely back into his head, and his pulse fluttered like a dying bird. They had less than thirty seconds before his heart froze solid.
The Principal's eyes snapped up. "If we cannot seal the leak... we have to shut off the entire system."
The Academy Secretary gasped. "Principal, you cannot mean—"
"Stasis," the Principal declared, his hands already glowing with a heavy, muted grey light. "It is a taboo exclusion chant. It will completely halt his biological and magical functions. Arion! I need ten seconds. Do not let his core shatter before I finish!"
Arion didn't argue. He planted his boots firmly on the marble floor and let out a vicious, guttural roar.
Arion pushed his abnormally dense mana to the absolute limit.
"Sto ónoma tou chrónou pou koimátai..." the Principal chanted rapidly, his hands weaving the grey spell with desperate speed. (In the name of sleeping time...)
The cold ripped through Arion's sleeves. His muscles screamed. Five seconds.
"...pagono to aima..." (...I freeze the blood...)
Sebastian's chest stopped heaving. Eight seconds.
"...kai stamató tin anapnoí!" (...and halt the breath!)
The Principal slammed his palm squarely onto Sebastian's forehead.
A heavy, suffocating wave of grey magic washed over the blonde boy's body. Instantly, the terrifying, violent energy tearing him apart simply... stopped.
Sebastian's body went completely, horrifyingly slack. His chattering teeth fell silent. His chest stopped moving. His heartbeat flatlined entirely.
Arion stumbled backward, panting heavily, his own arms covered in mild frostbite. He watched as Sebastian crumpled to the floor, lying perfectly still. The creeping frost on the boy's neck had stopped entirely, frozen in place.
He looked dead. He felt dead. But the catastrophic leak had paused.
The High Faculty Lounge descended into a suffocating, terrifying silence. The only sound was Arion's heavy, exhausted breathing.
The Academy Secretary stared at the lifeless body of Sebastian on her floor. The political implications hit her like a physical blow.
"He is in indefinite stasis," the Principal said quietly, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. "His body will not age, his core will not shatter, and he will not feel pain. He is trapped exactly as he is."
"He is the heir to the Ambrose family," the Secretary whispered, her voice trembling as damage-control instincts warred with sheer panic. "The top student of the Academy, comatose during a sanctioned tournament. The noble factions will call for our heads."
"Then there will be no public consequences," the Principal commanded sharply, regaining his authority. He looked at the Senior Theory Professor. "You will draft a statement immediately. Sebastian Ambrose suffered a severe case of magical exhaustion due to overexertion in the arena. He is resting securely in the intensive care ward, and no visitors are permitted. Am I understood?"
The professor swallowed hard and nodded. "Y-Yes, Principal."
Arion leaned heavily against the wall, rubbing his freezing arms. He didn't care about the Academy's politics or the noble families' outrage. He just looked at the boy who had ruined his own life just to prove his capability.
"So," Arion breathed out, his voice raspy. "When do we wake him up?"
The Principal looked at Arion, his expression filled with a heavy, grim sorrow.
"We don't," the Principal said softly.
Arion froze. "What?"
"The stasis spell only paused the leak, Arion. It did not fix the door," the Principal explained, looking down at Sebastian's perfectly still face. "Traditional magic cannot heal him. If we break this stasis chant, the endothermic loop will immediately resume its violent expansion. If I wake him up right now, his heart will freeze solid in less than three seconds."
The weight of the Principal's words crashed down on Arion's shoulders.
"He is trapped in a fake death," the Principal finished, his eyes meeting Arion's golden gaze. "And he will remain in that sleep until someone who understands chantless magic can manually seal his core."
Arion looked at his own scarred hands, then back at Sebastian. The dread settled heavily in his gut. The Academy couldn't fix this. The medics couldn't fix this.
There were only two people in the world who could save Sebastian now: Arion, if he could somehow figure out the skill he currently lacked... or his own master.