Chapter 8: Whispers of the Underground
A golden ray of sunlight stretched across the circular hall of the High Tower in Astra Kingdom. Sitting at the head of the obsidian table was none other than Mathew the Wizard King — a man whose presence alone could quiet storms and silence dragons. The hall was filled with murmurs, anxious whispers from powerful councilmen and women, each adorned in magical robes that shimmered faintly with embedded spells. It was a time of concern — the threat of Argus, the escaped war criminal and former Archmage, had sent tremors through the roots of the magical world.
Mathew sat quietly as the discussions grew louder. Elder Gairon, a stern-faced sage with a beard that brushed against his scroll-laden belt, slammed his fist on the table. "We cannot ignore what happened in Zirayo Kingdom. The entire capital was left in ashes. Ashes! Argus annihilated the king's guards with a single incantation. And then, once again, he vanished."
"It wasn't just annihilation," interrupted Lady Calistra, the elemental matron of the east. "He was looking for something..." She opened her palm, revealing a rune that glowed red, pulsing. "This was found in the underground vault beneath the king's chambers. Argus is after magical artifacts. And if he's searching for something specific—something ancient—then we are in more danger than we realize."
Mathew's fingers drummed against the table, his brows furrowed. What is your plan, Argus? What do you want so desperately that you'd scorch kingdoms?
"He's not just causing destruction," Mathew finally spoke, his voice calm but layered with tension. "He's tracking something. A specific artifact, yes... but which one? There are hundreds scattered among the kingdoms—each locked in royal vaults. The underground chambers are sacred places, known only to a few. And yet... he knows."
Councilor Heras stood up, his glassy blue eyes wide. "If we trace his pattern — from Lirien to Varkoss to Zirayo — the vaults were all disturbed. None stolen randomly. Always after one item. He's assembling something."
"A relic?" Mathew asked.
"A key. Or worse... a gate."
Silence fell. That word—gate—unlocked ancient fears.
To what? Mathew wondered. The Abyss? The Forgotten Realm?
The meeting carried on for hours, discussing fortification, magical surveillance, deploying the Sentinels to all remaining kingdoms. But Mathew, though present, was drifting through the fog of worry. Argus was once his friend. A brother-in-magic. He knew how Argus thought, and that terrified him.
---
Meanwhile, at Astra Academy, a different kind of scene unfolded.
Inside a neatly arranged dorm room, Prisca Dante sat near her window, carefully painting with soft strokes. The colors danced like her thoughts — a swirl of calm and quiet chaos. Her expression was composed but distant.
KNOCK KNOCK.
Prisca's eyes glowed momentarily — her Magical Eye activated. She saw through the door.
Naomi Rivers.
A petite girl with innocent hazel eyes, a pie balanced in her delicate hands. Prisca frowned. "Pest," she muttered, placing down her brush. Naomi kept knocking. Prisca sighed and opened the door.
Naomi's face lit up. "I made this pie. I thought since we're neighbors, maybe we could—"
"I don't want your pie," Prisca snapped. "And I don't want visitors." She shut the door without another word.
Naomi stood frozen for a moment, her eyes shimmering like she might cry.
---
Back in Class A, a hush swept over the room as Crystal Yuno — elegant, confident, and intimidating — entered with her entourage. Her steps were sharp, her silver-white hair flowing behind like a wave of ice.
Naomi, already seated, jumped up and walked over to Crystal's desk.
"Hey Crystal! That hairpin looks amazing on you today."
Crystal raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden approach.
"Oh, thank you. Naomi, right?"
"Yep!" Naomi beamed. "You know, I've been meaning to talk to you. Your spellbinding technique last week — the freezing vortex? Unreal. I watched it like twenty times."
Crystal's lips curved slightly. "That was a basic spell."
"Basic for you," Naomi chuckled. "You know, I read your essay on magical affinity — the comparison between mana flow and elemental stability? Genius. I wish I could think like that."
Crystal smiled wider. "You read that?"
Their conversation grew more animated. They talked about family, fashion, their favorite spell duels. Naomi was charming — thoughtful and curious. Crystal, for once, wasn't guarded.
"I'm hosting a little get-together," Naomi added as the bell rang. "Just some girls' fun. I want you to come. Just you. No others."
Crystal nodded. "I'll think about it."
---
Meanwhile, Cain Voss of Class E found himself cornered by three boys from Class B in a dim hallway.
"Well, look who it is. The cockroach of Class E," one sneered.
Cain cracked his knuckles. "You should pick your insults better when your nose's about to meet the wall."
Tension rose.
---
Back in Class E, two hours had passed in silence under Mrs. Elvara's monotone lecture. When the bell rang, most students scrambled out. Paul stood up slowly, gathering his things.
"Excuse me, Paul?"
He turned. Naomi stood before him, her smile hesitant.
"Yes?"
"Sorry to bother you… but I need your help."
Paul raised an eyebrow. "Help?"
"I want to be Prisca's friend. I see you're close to her and... I don't know how to connect with her. She always shuts me down."
Paul stared at her for a moment, calculating. "Why her?"
Naomi paused. "Because... I want to be friends with everyone here. And Prisca, she's... unique. A challenge. I like challenges."
Paul narrowed his eyes. Is she genuine? Or planting seeds?
"What are your plans exactly?" he asked.
Naomi smiled, mysterious. "To make this academy better. One bond at a time."
Paul didn't reply. He simply nodded.
---
The next day arrived with heavy winds.
A rumor exploded across Astra Academy.
Crystal Yuno is missing.
Vanished. No trace. Her room untouched. No one saw her leave.
When Yuno — the boy known as one of the Holy Ones — heard this, he barely blinked. Instead, he muttered, "The eleventh... It's starting."
He walked away.
---
Somewhere in the dark corners of the academy walls, where shadows twisted unnaturally, a leg stepped out from black smoke.
Amaria, a prefect, bowed low.
"Have you contacted Prisca Dante?" asked the voice.
Amaria trembled. "I'm still working on it."
"You'd better hurry," the voice rasped. "I need her... to complete the rituals."
A whisper curled into the night.
Let the games begin.