Arion was left completely alone outside the intensive care ward. He let the back of his head thump against the cold stone wall, exhaling a long, raspy breath. The adrenaline was finally wearing off, leaving his muscles heavy and his frostbitten forearms throbbing with a dull, vicious ache.
He looked down at his bandaged hands. He was a powerhouse. He could crush a maintenance golem with his bare hands or compress a nineteen-word ancient spell into a matchstick. But none of that mattered right now.
His Master had only taught him how to survive and destroy. He didn't know the first thing about human magical anatomy. He didn't know how to weave mana or magical essence without ripping fragile pathways to shreds.
If he was going to save Sebastian, he needed a manual. He needed to understand how normal people fixed things so he could figure out how to mimic it.
Arion pushed himself off the wall and started walking.
The Academy grounds were dead silent as he slipped through the shadows, making his way to the Grand Library.
He grabbed a dim glowstone and pulled down the heaviest, most boring standard medical textbooks he could find. He sat cross-legged right there in the aisle, tossing the books onto the floor.
He forced his golden eyes to scan the complex magical symbols and dense theoretical essays.
Ten minutes passed. Then thirty.
Arion slammed a thick green textbook shut, tossing it onto a pile of rejects with a frustrated groan.
It was useless. Every single book said the same thing, buried under layers of academic jargon: Traditional healing requires a foundation. The diagrams showed how healers used twelve-word chants to build a delicate "bridge" over cracked pathways. But to build that bridge, the healing mana needed to latch onto the patient's existing foundation.
Sebastian didn't just crack a pathway. He had kicked his internal door open without a key and ripped his own foundation completely out.
According to the textbooks, a chantless void was a biological impossibility. A lost cause.
"Worthless," Arion muttered, running a hand through his messy hair.
He stood up, leaving the pile of books on the floor. Reading wasn't going to solve this. He needed an actual answer.
He left the library and headed for the faculty building. He climbed seven flights of stairs, his knees popping in protest, until he reached the abandoned, dusty top floor.
He walked down the dark, spiderweb-covered hallway and stopped at the rotting wooden door at the very end.
Arion didn't knock. He just pushed the creaky door open and stepped inside.
Instantly, the smell of mold vanished, replaced by the scent of expensive lavender tea. The roaring fireplace cast a warm orange glow across the imported marble floors.
Sophia wasn't asleep. She was sitting completely still on her expensive white velvet couch, clutching a cold cup of tea, staring blankly into the fireplace. She looked utterly traumatized by the events in the High Faculty Lounge.
Arion walked over and stopped in front of the glass coffee table.
He didn't bother with an excuse. He just looked at her, his expression completely deadpan.
"Teach," Arion said flatly. "I need an answer."
Sophia slowly blinked, dragging her eyes away from the fire to look at him. She saw the exhaustion in his golden eyes and the thick bandages wrapped around his arms.
"Arion," Sophia whispered, her voice hollow. "You know I can't fix him. You saw the Principal try. My magic is weaker than his."
"I'm not asking you to fix him," Arion replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I just need the theory. If a mage rips their foundation out... how does the Academy fix it? What is the standard procedure?"
Sophia looked at him. She just let out a long, defeated sigh and set her teacup down on the table.
"There is no procedure, Arion," Sophia said softly.
Arion's jaw tightened. "Come on. There has to be a backup. Some fancy twelve-word spell you guys hide in the restricted section. You can't just let a kid freeze to death from the inside out."
Sophia shook her head slowly.
"Magic isn't a miracle, Arion. It's architecture," Sophia explained, her voice thick with genuine, helpless sadness. "Healing magic is just building bridges. If a pathway cracks, we build a bridge over it. But to build a bridge, you need two solid cliffs to nail the wood to."
She looked down at her hands.
"If the cliff is gone... if the foundation is ripped out... there is nothing for our healing magic to hold onto. You can pour all the mana in the world into that open circuit, but without an anchor, it just falls into the void. It's mathematically impossible."
Arion stared at the flickering flames in the fireplace. A cold, heavy weight settled in his stomach.
"Impossible," Arion repeated quietly.
"I'm sorry," Sophia said. "I know it's hard to accept. But some things just can't be fixed by the Academy."
Arion stood there for a long moment. Then, his deadpan expression smoothed out, replaced by his usual, unbothered mask.
"Right," Arion said dryly. "Thanks, Teach."
He turned and walked back toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Sophia called after him.
"To figure it out myself," Arion answered without looking back.
He stepped out of the warm luxury of the room, pulling the rotting door shut behind him.
He stood alone in the dark, dusty hallway of the seventh floor. The reality fully set in.
The Academy, despite all its centuries of history, elite bloodlines, and vast libraries, was completely useless to him. Traditional magic was a dead end.
Arion pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the medical wing and walked down the dim corridor.
Exousia was exactly where he had left her. She was standing guard in front of the heavy iron door of the intensive care room. However, the flawless, aristocratic posture she had been holding for hours was finally cracking. She looked incredibly pale, her shoulders tight with exhaustion.
"Did you find anything?" Exousia asked, her voice tight the moment she saw him approaching.
Arion stopped a few feet away. He looked at her deadpan.
"I found out that traditional magic is completely useless," Arion said flatly. "The Academy has no idea how to fix a missing foundation. I'm on my own."
Exousia closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. "Then we are out of time, Arion. If the stasis breaks—"
CLANG.
The heavy double doors at the far end of the medical corridor violently swung open, slamming against the stone walls.
Exousia instantly snapped back into her rigid, haughty posture, but the color completely drained from her face. Arion turned around, his golden eyes narrowing.
A group was sweeping down the hallway. Six heavily armed elite family guards marched in perfect sync, flanking a frail old man in flowing robes. Trailing nervously behind them, sweating profusely and completely stripped of his authority, was the Principal.
But leading the group was a young woman in a pristine, tailored winter coat.
Arion watched her approach, leaning slightly toward Exousia.
"Striking blonde hair and an aura that's currently making the Principal sweat through his robes," Arion murmured, keeping his voice low. "Let me guess. Another Ambrose?"
"Victoria," Exousia whispered through gritted teeth, her eyes locked straight ahead. "Sebastian's older sister."
Arion tilted his head, analyzing her steady, ruthless stride. "She looks almost Sophia's age. Twenty-one, maybe?"
"Exactly twenty-one," Exousia confirmed tightly. "But age doesn't matter. Their father is away in the capital, so she is the acting proxy for the Great House. She commands the elite guards. Do not cross her, Arion."
Arion didn't get a chance to reply. Victoria had reached them.
"Lady Victoria, I assure you, this intrusion is entirely unnecessary!" the Principal stammered, practically tripping over his own robes to catch up to her. "As the acting proxy, surely you understand the political ramifica—"
"I understand that my brother is dying while you stall, Principal," Victoria snapped without even looking back at him. Her voice was like cracking ice. "I do not need your permission to save my own blood."
She stopped ten paces from the intensive care room. Her silver eyes locked onto Exousia, who was standing defensively in front of the door.
Exousia lifted her chin, flawlessly slipping into her aristocratic mask. "Lady Victoria. It is an honor to—"
"Save the pleasantries, Exousia," Victoria cut her off abruptly. "My brother does not 'meditate' behind locked doors in the middle of a medical emergency. And he certainly doesn't require you in the Academy to stand guard like a watchdog. Move aside."
Exousia didn't flinch. "I am acting on Sebastian's direct orders. His core is highly volatile right now. He cannot be disturbed."
Victoria's eyes narrowed. She didn't bother arguing the politics or checking if Exousia was lying. She simply raised a hand and snapped her fingers.
"Break it down," Victoria ordered her guards.
The six elite mages stepped forward, their hands glowing with lethal, high-tier traditional magic.
Arion didn't think. Instinct took over.
He stepped directly in front of the door, placing himself between the Ambrose guards and Exousia. His lazy demeanor completely vanished. His golden eyes began to glow in the dim hallway, and the air around him grew instantly heavy as his violently dense mana began to surface. He was fully prepared to dismantle all six guards in under a minute.
Victoria's sharp eyes locked onto him.
"Ah," Victoria said coldly. "The single-name commoner. I've heard the rumors about you."
Before Arion could move, a trembling hand clamped down hard on his wrist.
"Don't," Exousia whispered fiercely in his ear.
Arion glanced back. Exousia was looking at him with sheer desperation.
"If you attack her guards right now, it is an act of war," Exousia whispered, her voice shaking. "You will be executed on the spot by the kingdom's laws. And it still won't save Sebastian."
Arion gritted his teeth. His mana flared dangerously around his fists. He wanted to fight. He wanted to break something. But looking into Victoria's cold, calculating eyes, he knew Exousia was right. If he started a bloodbath in the hallway, Sebastian would still be bleeding out on the other side of the door.
Slowly, agonizingly, Arion forced his mana back down. He swallowed his pride, dropped his hands, and stepped aside.
The elite guards didn't hesitate. A massive shockwave of kinetic magic blasted the lock off the heavy iron door, blowing it violently inward.
A cloud of freezing, sub-zero vapor immediately spilled out into the hallway.
Victoria stepped through the doorway and froze.
Sebastian wasn't meditating. He was entombed in a jagged block of ancient ice, his skin deathly pale. Victoria's expression briefly shattered, revealing a flash of absolute heartbreak, before the frail old Appraiser pushed past her with a gasp.
"My Lady!" the old man cried out in pure horror, his hands hovering over the ice. "His internal circuit... it is completely open! He is actively bleeding out! This ice is a taboo endothermic stasis holding him in a fake death!"
Victoria slowly turned her head to look at the Principal. The raw, murderous intent in her silver eyes made the powerful old man physically take a step back. The bluff was completely exposed.
"Thaw him," Victoria ordered her Appraiser, her voice trembling with barely suppressed rage. "Our private healers are waiting at the estate."
"No!" the Appraiser cried out, grabbing her arm. "My Lady, the stasis is the only thing keeping his open circuit from fully draining. If you dispel the ice now, the bleeding will resume. He will die in less than three seconds. He cannot survive the carriage ride!"
Victoria stared at the ice. She didn't panic. She went into pure, terrifying survival mode. Knowing the Academy was entirely useless to her, she reached inside her coat and pulled out a small, intricately carved, glowing black cube.
The Principal gasped. "Lady Victoria, that is a national-grade spatial artifact! You cannot simply—"
Victoria crushed the cube in her hand.
A massive distortion of purple light erupted from her palm, sweeping over the entire medical bed. The air warped and folded in on itself. In a single, silent flash of light, the bed, the stasis ice, and Sebastian completely vanished, sucked into a contained spatial bubble hovering above Victoria's hand.
Victoria turned around and walked back out into the hallway. She stopped in front of the Principal.
"The Ambrose House will remember this deception," she said, her voice promising absolute ruin.
Without another word, Victoria and her guards marched swiftly down the corridor, taking the spatial bubble with them.
The heavy double doors swung shut behind them.
The corridor fell dead silent.
Exousia leaned back against the stone wall and slowly slid down until she was sitting on the floor, burying her face in her trembling hands. The bluff had failed. The politics had failed.