The resting room felt smaller than Vel remembered. Stone walls pressed in from all sides, trapping the heat of their recent exertion and the lingering adrenaline that hadn't yet faded.
Tomas sprawled across one of the wooden benches, his breathing finally returning to normal. Hileya moved quietly near the door, folding the sweat-dampened cloths they'd used during the match and checking their equipment straps. The distant roar of the crowd filtered through the thick walls—a constant reminder that the tournament continued without them.
Vel leaned against the cool stone, letting it draw some of the tension from his shoulders. His mind refused to settle, replaying their match in fragments.
Celia stood up and crossed to the wooden board mounted on the wall. Her fingers traced down the bracket listings, stopping at one particular entry.
"Thornwood is fighting," she said, glancing back at them. "Should we go watch?"
Tomas's shoulders tensed slightly at the name, though he tried to hide it.
Vel didn't respond. His gaze remained fixed somewhere past Celia.
"Vel?" Celia called again.
"Huh?" He blinked, focus returning. "Oh...sorry. I was thinking. Who are they fighting?"
"Standard students."
"That's... some unlucky draw," Tomas muttered.
Unlucky, Vel thought. Or was there something more behind this arrangement?
He'd learned not to underestimate anyone—their own performance proved that clearly enough.
Anyone with sense would hold back their best techniques against weaker opponents. Then again, knowing Thornwood's flair for theatrics, he might do the exact opposite.
Either way, his mind felt occupied. Exhausted. The mental strain of constant calculation during their match lingered more than the physical fatigue.
"Should we stay and watch?" Tomas asked again. There was hesitation in his voice, as if he wasn't sure which answer he wanted.
"We could call it a day," Vel suggested. "And maybe... review the match reports later."
Celia stretched her arms above her head. "I'm honestly too tired to focus on anything."
Hileya stepped forward. "Master Vel, I can stay and gather more information if you'd like. Although..." She paused. "No one would be available to cook."
"No need Hileya," Vel shook his head with a smile. "Let's eat outside today as a small celebration for all of us."
"Really?" Celia perked up. "I know this great noodle place."
"Sounds perfect," Vel agreed. He turned to Tomas. "You're joining us, right?"
Tomas nodded eagerly. "I could definitely eat after all that."
"Then it's settled"
---
The tables sat on the sidewalk under the shade of canvas canopies. Steam rose from the kitchen behind them, carrying savory aromas into the street. The four settled around their table, chairs evenly spaced.
Vel absently twirled his chopsticks, the motion repetitive and mechanical. His eyes focused somewhere past the street traffic.
The action finally caught Tomas's attention. "Are you always like this after every fight?"
"Since Elnor," Celia said, amusement in her voice. "He'll come back eventually."
"We—I made a mistake," Vel suddenly spoke up, drawing everyone's eyes.
"What mistake? We won, didn't we?" Tomas asked.
"That wind caster's spell," Vel said, frowning. "I barely reacted. If Celia hadn't pushed me out of the way, I might have been taken out early."
"That's what teammates are for," Celia shrugged.
"True, but I can't always rely on someone saving me. I need to improve my reaction time somehow."
Celia recalled, "Didn't you used to theorize about something similar? Back when we practiced with Kein in Elnor?"
Vel blinked in surprise. "You remember that?"
"Of course I do. You wouldn't stop talking about it for days."
"What are you talking about?" Tomas asked.
"Something that can enhance the way someone perceives their surroundings. Heighten the mind, help them think faster." Vel tapped his chopsticks against the table. "But I'd rather save the headache for other time."
In technical terms, the spell would enhance neural pathways, increasing the speed his brain processed information. To the caster, time would seem to slow down around them. Theoretically.
The arrival of steaming bowls interrupted his thoughts. Vel inhaled the rich aroma and decided to shelve the problem for now. This was their moment of celebration, after all.
---
[***]
"The students couldn't stop talking about Team Novalance's victory."
Kein's voice cut through the playful melody drifting from Eldrin's harp. They walked together through the Academy corridors, on their way to the prince's lodgings in the noble quarter. The soft notes filled the spaces between their footsteps.
"To them, it's a surprise," Kein continued. "But somehow, I'm not."
He'd always trusted Celia's instincts. Still, when she'd chosen to fight alongside two unstable students, doubt had crept in.
The harp's tune shifted slightly—acknowledging, perhaps curious.
"Even Thornwood's overwhelming victory got overshadowed. We should start gathering information. That was the first team with unstable students to ever win in the tournament's history."
He paused, processing his own words.
"I sense there's more to them than meets the eye."
Eldrin's face remained graceful, serene. He offered a small nod, accompanied by a faint smile. The harp echoed his approval through a gentle, ascending melody.
They walked together for a few more steps along the corridor, their footsteps somehow accommodating the melody.
Then Eldrin's boot clicked to a stop.
The harp fell silent.
Kein took several more steps before he realized. He turned back.
"Your High—" He caught himself. "Eldrin?"
The prince stood motionless, his fingers hovering above the strings. That refined composure remained unchanged, but something had shifted in his posture. His eyes narrowed slightly.
Then Eldrin played again—the same gentle melody from moments before.
To Kein's ears, it sounded perfect. Harmonious. Nothing out of place.
But Eldrin tilted his head, concentration breaking through his graceful expression. His fingers moved across the strings, forming words through vibration and resonance:
"Sound. Wrong."
Kein's hand moved instinctively toward his sword. He scanned the corridor around them. The usual evening sounds—rustling wind, insects, distant conversations—all seemed normal.
"How so?"
The harp formed a single word:
"Discord."
Eldrin shifted his foot and turned—like a soldier's pivot, his posture straight as he walked toward the wall of the corridor.
He stopped before it, then lifted the harp until it hovered near his ear. He laid his fingers on three different strings and plucked them at the same time.
The sound that emerged was deep, resonant. It rolled through the corridor like a wave, sustaining itself far beyond what should have been possible. The note hung in the air, refusing to fade.
Then something on the wall began to glow, not far from where they stood.
Faint at first—barely visible. But as the note continued, the light intensified, taking shape. Lines formed in the stone, curving and connecting until they revealed a pattern.
An eye. Or a resemblance of it.
Kein stepped forward, his hand tightening around his sword hilt.
The symbol pulsed with a rhythm that felt unnatural.
Some kind of enchanted crest, Kein thought, studying the glowing mark. Hidden in plain sight until Eldrin's resonance revealed it.
"Why is this here?" Kein asked. "Do you know what it is?"
The prince shook his head.
The harp spoke again:
"Trouble. Melody."
Kein stared at the pulsing symbol. To his ears, nothing had sounded wrong when Eldrin played earlier. He could only trust what the prince sensed—whatever discord existed, it was beyond his perception.
"Should we report this to the instructors?"
Before Eldrin could respond, his posture shifted. The graceful composure that usually defined him vanished, replaced by something grim. Guarded. His body moved instinctively into a defensive stance, weight balanced, ready.
Then, just as quickly, it passed.
Several footsteps echoed through the corridor.
The glowing symbol faded, sinking back into the stone as if it had never existed.
A group of instructors rounded the corner—those who'd finished their tournament duties for the day, heading toward the staff lounge. They walked briskly, some engaged in quiet conversation, others showing the weariness of a long day. Kein and Eldrin offered polite nods as the group approached.
Most passed without pause, too focused on rest to notice much else.
Instructor Lyvenna walked at the rear, a noticeable gap between her and her colleagues. Her steps slowed as she drew near, eyes flickering between Kein and Eldrin. She continued past them for a few paces, then stopped. Turned.
"Is something amiss?"
Perhaps their concern had been more obvious than Kein realized—written plainly across their faces.
"We discovered a concealed crest upon the wall, Instructor," Kein said. "One that appears to be hidden by enchantment."
Lyvenna's expression shifted. "In what manner is it strange?"
"My companion's magic revealed it," Kein explained. "It seems to disturb the natural harmony of this place."
The prince nodded his confirmation, though he remained silent. Without any prompting, he lifted his harp once more. The same resonant notes filled the corridor.
The symbol emerged again, lines of light forming that eye-like pattern against the stone.
Lyvenna's eyes narrowed. She stepped closer, studying the glowing mark with the focus of someone analyzing a spell's structure.
"Most peculiar," she murmured. "I have neither seen nor heard of such enchantments within the Academy's walls."
Kein glanced at Eldrin. The prince met his gaze, curiosity mirrored in his expression.
"An intriguing discovery," Lyvenna said, straightening. "I will bring this matter before the Archmagister immediately. She may have insight into its origin and purpose."
She turned to leave, then paused.
"Return to your quarters and rest well. Best of fortune in tomorrow's match."
Her gaze shifted from Kein to Eldrin, offering the prince a curt nod of acknowledgment before she turned and walked away, her footsteps fading down the corridor.
Kein and Eldrin exchanged a look—a silent agreement that there was little they could do about this now. Lyvenna would report it to the Archmagister. The matter was beyond them.
"She's right," Kein said finally. "Our match is tomorrow. We should go over the strategy again with Lady Fairwind."
The harp offered a soft, agreeing melody.
Together, they walked away from where the symbol had been, leaving the empty corridor behind as they continued toward the noble quarter.
---
Celia let out a pleasant sigh as she swallowed the last of her meal, setting her chopsticks down with satisfaction.
Hileya was more subtle—a quiet nod of contentment as she finished, her movements controlled and refined.
"Hileya," Vel said after a moment. "I just realized I've been so caught up with the tournament and classes that I've neglected your training."
Hileya looked up, surprise evident in her eyes. "My training? You've had more important matters to attend to, Master Vel."
"No, I made a promise." Vel shook his head. "I'll be free in a few days. Then we can actually decide what to do."
Hileya nodded slightly, her silver braids catching the lamplight.
They left the noodle shop behind. The evening air had cooled since they'd first sat down, carrying fewer voices now. Most of Lona's citizens had returned home, leaving the streets quieter than during the day.
Tomas stretched his arms overhead. "That was exactly what I needed after today."
"Same," Celia agreed. "My shoulders were so tense during the match, I didn't realize how much until now."
They walked together, Hileya next to Celia. The two had grown closer since their first day in Lona—something Vel noticed in the small gestures, the comfortable silences. Sometimes they whispered conversations between themselves that Vel wouldn't dare intrude upon.
Two citizens passed by, their conversation drifting over.
"Look, those are Academy uniforms."
"The tournament started today, didn't it? Wish I could've gotten in to watch."
"Invitation only. Only nobles and guild members, from what I heard."
Their voices faded as they continued down the street.
Vel looked down at his uniform, aware of how visible they were now that the tournament had drawn attention from all over Lona. Everyone wanted to see the next generation of talent.
In his past life, he'd been content staying invisible. But here, he somehow couldn't. Circumstances kept dragging him into the light.
Was it because he cared too much? Always trying to fix things, subconsciously treating this world's problems like bugs in code that needed patching.
His eyes drifted across the street. The world he'd once laid the foundation for—now ready to challenge its creator without permission.
A figure in dark robes walked toward them from the opposite direction.
They tugged at something beneath their cloak.
The motion pulled their sleeve back as they drew closer. Their wrist revealed something.
Time seemed to slow.
A mark. Dark ink against pale skin. An eye at the center of a star. Lines spiraling inward toward the pupil.
He knew this mark.
The realization sent a chill down his spine. His body locked mid-step.
The robed figure walked past without pause, sleeve falling back into place.
Vel winced at the phantom pain as the memory suddenly emerged—Trinon's dagger, Landre's lifeless expression, the warning.
By the time he regained his composure and spun around, the figure had already vanished.
"Vel?" Celia's voice cut through the noise in his head.
His companions had stopped further down the street, turning back toward him. The empty street behind him seemed to mock his racing thoughts.
Had the figure recognized him? Was this coincidence, or was he being followed?
Celia's hand hovered near her rapier. Hileya's posture shifted into something more alert, more dangerous.
"What are they doing here?" Vel whispered.
"Who?" Tomas asked, looking around nervously. "Did you see someone?"
Vel's mind whirled. Tomas's question barely registered.
This cannot be coincidence. What are they planning?
Are they here for him or something else?
The tournament? Were they targeting the audience? Those who attended? Or the students themselves?
Vel's hands shook slightly as he gripped his sword.
"We need to get back. Immediately. No detours."
The three of them exchanged confused glances, but their bodies reacted on instinct. Celia shifted her weight forward. Tomas straightened, scanning the street. Hileya's hand moved to her dagger.
"Watch the surroundings. Make sure no one follows us. I'll explain when we get back."
They quickened their steps without question, leaving the evening street behind.