The Athenaeum was unusually quiet this afternoon. Phantsin Dawnfire sat at an isolated table on the second level, surrounded by tomes on magical assimilation and First Era metals. He tried to read, but his vision was partially obstructed.
Ever since the night in the Dead Core, the Void Aegis had retracted beneath his skin at will, yet it never completely disappeared. Hexagonal plates of a dark, purplish metal peeked out at the base of his neck and ribs, hidden beneath the white shirt and black jacket of his uniform. Even worse, the symbiotic helmet had left a permanent aftereffect: a thread of runic light that projected information directly onto his retinas, a spectral HUD that only he could see.
[SYSTEM: AEGIS - PASSIVE MODE]
[HOST INTEGRITY: 92%]
[IGNIS CORE: SUPPRESSED BY LIMITER RING]
[VOID RESONANCE: STABLE - AWAITING COMMAND]
Phantsin blinked to clear the glowing letters from his line of sight and turned the page of an ancient bestiary. He was desperately searching for any mention of the armor to understand how to feed it without letting it devour him. He was alone; Rikka, his perpetual shadow, had been forced to leave the Academy for a couple of days to attend to an "urgent matter" with her enigmatic sponsor in the underworld. Without the Umbra wolf growling at anyone who approached, Phantsin felt strangely exposed.
Suddenly, the temperature in the aisle plummeted. The nearby Aetheric Lamps flickered, their warm light turning a sickly blue. The HUD in Phantsin's vision erupted into a frantic red.
[ALERT!]
[ABYSSAL ENTITY DETECTED - IMMINENT PROXIMITY]
[MANA SIGNATURE: ALIEN / CORRUPTED]
Phantsin leapt to his feet, instinctively reaching for where his sword should be. From the dark aisles between the bookshelves, a girl emerged. She wore the standard Arcanum Bellator uniform, but her tie and the trim on her jacket were a purple so dark it appeared black, denoting her belonging to Umbra. She was the transfer student everyone murmured about in the halls: Isolde the Pale. Her skin was the color of shattered porcelain, devoid of any trace of sunlight. Her hair was as white as snow, and her eyes were two black pools that absorbed the library's sparse light.
Phantsin tried to step back, but his muscles refused to respond; it was as if a freezing, oppressive aura emanating from Isolde had enveloped him.
"How fascinating," Isolde whispered, closing the distance with soundless steps and cornering him against the oak table.
Phantsin felt an overwhelming nausea; his human body violently rejected the girl's presence. His stomach churned, and a cold sweat beaded his forehead. The paralysis induced by her dark aura kept him immobile. Isolde raised a slender hand with pale, sharp nails and, with agonizing slowness, unfastened the top button of Phantsin's shirt, brushing aside his red Ignis tie to reveal the base of his throat, where the dark, purplish metal of the Aegis fused with his flesh. She traced a cold finger over the hexagonal plates.
[WARNING: CRITICAL RESONANCE]
[VOID LEVELS INCREASING]
The armor beneath Phantsin's skin vibrated in unsettling recognition.
"Smells like home," Isolde purred, closing her eyes and savoring the energy emanating from the boy. "First Era metal. Dead blood. And that delicious void hidden beneath..."
Isolde opened her eyes and stared at him, a joyless smile curving her pale lips. "You think you're special for wearing it, little Ignis. But you are just the final vessel. The finished product." She leaned in until her icy breath brushed against his ear. "I was the first draft." "And drafts... are always more painful."
Phantsin tried to speak, tried to scream or summon fire, but the air refused to enter his lungs. The suffocating power of the Void, which she commanded so effortlessly, was crushing him.
Suddenly, the scent of wet earth, pine, and jasmine sliced through the putrid, stagnant atmosphere, and the thick oak floorboards of the Athenaeum splintered. Two green vines, as thick as a man's arms and covered in luminous thorns, burst through the wood. The vines coiled violently around Phantsin's waist and chest, pulling him with brutal force, tearing him from Isolde's grasp and dragging him three meters down the aisle. Phantsin fell to his hands and knees, coughing until his lungs finally filled with clean air.
The HUD in his eyes blinked.
[THREAT DISTANCED]
[SYSTEMS STABILIZING]
"Get away from him!"
Lyla Moonshadow placed herself between Phantsin and the Umbra student. The elf from Silvanya was furious; her jacket hung open, revealing a forest-green tie. Her emerald eyes shone with a life mana so intense it physically counteracted Isolde's cold. With a wave of her hand, dozens of roots emerged from the bookshelves and the floor, forming a defensive wall—a perfect display of the Terra faction's Resilience.
Isolde looked at Lyla, then at the vines. She showed neither anger nor surprise; she simply tilted her head slightly, as if evaluating a curious insect.
"The gardener," Isolde murmured with a tone of boredom. "How predictable." "Life always tries to cling to the earth before it rots."
Isolde took a step back, literally melting into the shadows cast by the massive bookshelves. Her black eyes were the last thing to vanish.
"Watch your armor, Dawnfire," the echo of her voice resonated in the empty library. "Soon it will grow hungry." "And the life around you... will look very appetizing."
Once the girl's presence had completely faded, the Aetheric Lamps regained their warm yellow glow. Lyla dropped her arms, and the vines withered, crumbling into harmless dust on the tiles. She rushed over to Phantsin and knelt by his side.
"Phantsin... by the gods, you're freezing. You're trembling," she said, taking his face in her hands. Her thumbs caressed his cheeks, sending small waves of heat and healing magic to combat the nausea and supernatural cold Isolde had inflicted upon him.
Phantsin gripped Lyla's wrists, trying to steady his own breathing; terror still pounded in his chest. She wasn't just a cadet; Isolde the Pale was a creature of the Void. Arcanum Bellator had been infiltrated, and Phantsin realized with horror that his new armor—the Aegis he intended to use to save his friends—was connected to the very monster that now stalked the halls.
"Lyla..." Phantsin gasped, his voice barely a raspy whisper. "We have a very, very dark problem."