Chapter 20 - The Tides That Turn the Court
The world returned to Felix Gallardo slowly, like a dream dragging him unwillingly back to reality.
The ceiling above him was rusted steel, covered in flaking patches that let streams of dust-filled sunlight filter through. His limbs were bound—ankles to the chair legs, wrists to the splintering arms, his mouth gagged with an enchanted cloth that hummed faintly, a magic suppressor. Each breath was difficult, and the air tasted of rust and mildew.
Pain throbbed from the back of his skull, but confusion struck harder than the ache.
Where am I? What happened? Why…?
Struggling was his first instinct—but the moment he flexed his fingers, he felt it: his magic draining.
A slow, constant pull.
It was like something beneath the chair was siphoning the life from him.
He gritted his teeth.
Then, a voice came from the shadows.
"Seems like you're getting really weak," said the stranger. A boy stepped forward, barely older than him, with a cruel smirk and the uniform of Astra Academy—only it wasn't quite right.
Felix blinked. The boy wore a deep navy coat, long-sleeved with a high collar, trimmed in silver, but the school crest on his chest wasn't Astra's sun-emblazoned circle—it was a black phoenix, clawing upward.
Wrong. Wrong uniform. Wrong badge.
"Don't stress yourself," the boy said casually, approaching him. "The more you struggle, the more your magical essence is drained. This chair was designed for creatures ten times stronger than you."
Felix raised his head slowly, exhaustion already creeping into his bones. "Who… are you?"
The boy tilted his head. "It doesn't matter who I am," he whispered, "what matters is what I do."
And with that, the boy reached out and grabbed Felix by the throat.
Magic surged violently. Felix felt the last of his mana resist—but then flee. It was being pulled out of him in waves.
The boy's eyes glowed with a cruel violet light.
"I'm Faty," he said. "One of the Chosen. These are my powers—Drain Out."
Felix's body trembled. "Please… let me go… I have things to do…"
Faty laughed, his face inches from Felix's. "I was ordered not to let you out."
Then—CRACK!—he punched Felix hard in the ribs. The chair shuddered.
Felix coughed, wheezing.
But the moment Faty turned away, Felix swung his head toward him, aiming to strike.
Faty caught it mid-air, as if expecting the move.
"Oh no. Naughty."
Then, he pressed two fingers to Felix's temples.
And drained his memories.
Pain unlike anything Felix had known ripped through his mind. He screamed against the gag as flashes of home, friends, spells, Crysta, and the court—all shattered like glass in his head.
Faty just smiled.
"I thought I told you," he said, softly. "I'm not letting you out."
Then—BANG!—the building's rusted door burst open.
A figure stepped through, silhouetted by daylight.
Faty turned. "Who are you?"
The figure's voice was calm, deliberate.
"Felix," he said. "Sorry I'm late."
Felix's blurred vision slowly recognized the voice.
"Paul…?"
Paul Morgan stepped forward. "Don't worry. I'm here."
Faty's brows narrowed. "I asked you a question. Who are you?"
Paul studied him silently.
This uniform… it's not Astra's. The design is close, but the crest… No. The fabric stitching isn't from the academy tailors. And this boy—he doesn't walk like a student.
"Strange," Paul said aloud. "You're not from this school."
Faty snarled and lunged, his hand outstretched toward Paul's face.
But Paul caught his wrist, unflinching.
Then, with two fingers, he tapped Faty's forehead.
In an instant, Faty's reality collapsed.
---
The Black Void
He stood in an abyss. No sound. No light. Nothing but darkness and echoes of his own heartbeat.
Paul appeared, walking toward him with calm steps.
Faty's breath caught in his throat.
"Who… what are you?" he whispered.
Paul placed a hand gently on his shoulder.
"I'm not going to kill you," Paul said. "But I will leave you here. In this void. With your memories replaying endlessly. Until you break. Until your soul rots in silence."
Paul turned.
Faty screamed.
---
Back in the real world, Faty's body convulsed. Blood poured from his eyes and mouth. He collapsed, limp.
Paul didn't blink.
He walked to Felix, untying the gag and bonds.
Felix coughed, struggling to stay upright.
Paul offered a small canister filled with glowing blue liquid.
"Drink this," he said. "It'll restore your strength."
Felix drank. Magic coursed through him like electricity.
Just then—Faty stirred.
Not dead.
He lunged toward Paul.
But Felix had already raised his hand.
"Star Shield: Impact Mode!"
A blast of golden light threw Faty across the room.
Paul stared down at him.
"This thing…" he murmured, "isn't human."
Faty stood up, uninjured, smiling. He dusted himself off.
"Anyway… I'm not here to fight you. My mission's complete."
Felix narrowed his eyes. "What was your purpose?"
Faty turned to leave, melting into shadowy fragments.
"We'll meet again. Soon."
He looked over his shoulder.
"Paul Morgan. Felix Gallardo."
Felix gasped. "He knows our names."
Paul's eyes narrowed.
Then Faty vanished.
Faty vanished, his figure dispersing like crumbling shadows blown by the wind, leaving behind a lingering, unnerving smile that haunted the stale air of the rusted warehouse.
Felix's chest rose and fell as he tried to steady his breath, still recovering from the near-erasure of his magical essence.
He turned to Paul. "What… what just happened?"
Paul didn't answer immediately. Instead, he placed a steady hand on Felix's shoulder.
"We shouldn't worry about that," he said calmly. "We have a case to win."
Felix blinked, confused. "Paul, what about Cain? He was also kidnapped… he—"
Paul cut him off with a faint, knowing smirk. "Cain is already at the court."
Felix froze. "What…? But how—"
Paul glanced toward the broken door. "I handled it."
Those words were simple, but the weight behind them struck Felix like a chord. There was more to Paul than met the eye—layers upon layers of secrets sealed beneath his calm gaze.
Prisca dante stood encircled by danger.
Her back burned from a previous impact, her knees slightly trembling from exhaustion, but her spirit—her flame—still roared.
Before her stood three enemies.
An illusionist clad in a long coat stitched with moving sigils, a woman named Ruth with silver eyes and daggers sheathed behind her back, and somewhere in the distance, the invisible eye of a sniper aimed from high ground.
Prisca's hair danced in the heated wind, and her palms glowed.
"Alright… you want a fight? I'll burn everything."
She raised both hands, conjuring massive coils of fire. Her imagination began twisting the flame: it became a sword in her left, and a blazing dragon head in her right.
She charged.
The illusionist snapped his fingers. The world rippled.
Suddenly Prisca found herself fighting on a staircase that extended into the sky, the real ground gone.
Walls shifted. Floors flipped. Reality folded.
Prisca stumbled—her flame blade flickering as her mind recalibrated—but she had been trained for this.
She closed her eyes.
And burned through the illusion.
The assassin moved swiftly—Ruth was fast, barely visible, using the shadows like armor.
She struck Prisca in the side with the hilt of her dagger, sending her into a pillar.
Prisca screamed, coughed blood, and rolled. Still, she rose, forming two phoenix wings of fire behind her.
She launched herself skyward and rained down flame like comets.
Ruth vanished just before impact, reappearing behind Prisca and slashing her shoulder.
Prisca spun, caught her wrist, and unleashed a burst of internal heat.
Ruth screamed as her arm ignited. She fled.
Prisca scanned the treetops. She knew the sniper had to be nearby. The gunshot came—
BANG!
The bullet struck her right hand.
She fell to the ground with a cry. Flames dissipated.
The illusionist reappeared beside her, expression unreadable.
Ruth approached, raising her dagger to end it.
But the illusionist raised his hand. "Don't do it yet, Ruth. We've seen what we came here for."
Prisca blinked through pain. "What…?"
The three opponents began to vanish into fragments of shadow.
The illusionist's voice lingered:
> "Soon, Lumina Kingdom will embrace our visit… very soon."
Prisca landed—hard—on damp earth.
She was in a forest.
Alone.
She punched the ground. "Damn it… I messed up. I have to reach the courtroom. Now."
Inside the Great Astra Courtroom, the stained-glass ceiling cast colored light over the polished crystal floor. Murmurs had risen to thunder among the students, professors, Holy Ones, and Prefects.
Liorion Dante stood tall before the tribunal, his white robes untouched by dust, his voice firm.
> "My honor, it is a privilege to be standing here as the school representative. Today, we present the case between Class E and Class B. The juniors are accused of assaulting a senior and stealing one of the school's precious stones."
Gasps and murmurs erupted like wildfire.
> "Class E? A junior class? The stone…?" "That's the Heartstone of Tenebrae, isn't it?" "Why would they take it? Unless… someone manipulated them…"
About the Stone: The Heartstone of Tenebrae is one of the three core artifacts of Astra Academy. It is believed to be the crystallized heart of a fallen star, infused with ancient magic. It sustains the academy's magical barrier, wards off shadow corruption, and powers the sacred spell library. Its theft is considered treason.
The Judge, cloaked in golden judicial robes, slammed his gavel.
> "Silence!"
The court quieted.
> "Liorion Dante, summon the accused."
Liorion nodded. "Class B, Joel Osteen, you are summoned."
Joel stood, arrogantly walking to the justice box, his prefect badge gleaming.
Liorion turned. "Class E, Cain Voss, you are summoned."
But only Peterson and Naomi were seated.
A hand rose.
Elijah. "Permission to speak."
Liorion nodded.
> "Cain and the others can't make it. Perhaps we should proceed without them."
Class E began to panic.
But before Liorion could speak—
The great door burst open.
> "I don't think you should proceed… without our client."
Heads turned.
Cain. Paul. Prisca. Felix.
Alive. Standing.
The students of Class E erupted in hushed joy.
> "They made it…!" "I knew it!" "We're not done yet."
Joel narrowed his eyes.
Paul and Felix sat with Naomi and Peterson.
Cain walked calmly to the justice box.
Liorion nodded. "My lord, you may proceed."
The judge leaned forward.
> "This court… shall now hear the truth."
Meanwhile, in the Confinement Hall, Isadora Vellcroft sprinted through blood-stained corridors with two elite students.
When they arrived at Cell 9, the door hung open.
Inside, a student lay dead. Blood trickled from his mouth.
Kate's cell… was empty.
"Sir," said Mary, Isadora's assistant, trembling. "Kate has escaped. And she's killed someone. What should we do?"
Isadora's face darkened. "We don't tell anyone. Not yet. Kate wouldn't do this unless forced."
Mary frowned. "Sir, covering this is against the Holy One's rule. What if Liorion finds out—?"
Isadora grabbed her by the shoulders.
"I trust you, Mary. This isn't protocol. This is truth. Help me find her. We uncover this mystery ourselves."
Mary stared… then nodded. "Yes, sir."
Isadora called in the Holy Cleaners—silent, robed figures with masks who sanitized crime scenes in sacred grounds.
The hallway began to glow as purification magic ignited.
Back at an abandoned wing of the Astra Academy—
Kate stood, her crimson eyes alight with fury.
Blood still stained her sleeve. Her hand trembled as it gripped her katana.
Her lips parted.
> "I won't forgive you, Lucia. I won't. I will hunt you down and kill you… even if it means being banished from the kingdom."
The wind roared against the broken windows.
Kate turned, her figure vanishing into the skies.